sammycutiepie

[sammycutiepie]

《Beneath Her Wings》

Caitlyn

writer's note: attorney caitlyn it's so fucking hot. it was so cute writing this, i felt butterflies in my stomach and i still do, i want a caitlyn kiramman in my life too please i'm begging. anyways, this little (pretty long) scenarios comes from my arcane imagines, i'll let the link down there for anyone is interested, also i'll be posting a story for each one of those scenarios for this week, tomorrow its sevika's turn ;)

link:

warnings: smut, scissoring, breastfeeding kink, lap riding, mentions of physical assault, harassment, fluff and a lot of drama but it has a happy ending.

The sound of your heels against the marble floor echoed subtly in the spacious hallway. The white walls, adorned with minimalist paintings, felt cold, almost intimidating. In front of you, the frosted glass door bore the name "Caitlyn Kiramman, Attorney." Your hand trembled slightly as you turned the knob. This wasn’t the first time you sought professional help since the divorce, but something about this place felt different. Perhaps it was her prestigious reputation, or maybe the faint hope that this time, someone might truly help you.

Inside, a receptionist with a kind face greeted you with a cordial gesture. “Ma’am, Attorney Kiramman will see you shortly. Would you like some water or coffee while you wait?”

“Water, please,” you replied, though the lump in your throat made drinking seem impossible. You sat in a leather-upholstered chair, feeling small in the wide and sophisticated space.

It wasn’t long before the door opened, and Caitlyn Kiramman made her entrance. Her slender figure, wrapped in a perfectly tailored suit, exuded an imposing yet non-aggressive authority. Her dark hair, tied in an impeccable bun, contrasted with her piercing blue eyes. She walked towards you with confident strides and extended a hand.

"You must be my new client. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Caitlyn," she said with a voice that was both professional and warm. Her British accent was quite captivating.

You stood up, shaking her hand with a mix of nervousness and caution. "Thank you for seeing me… I know your schedule must be very busy."

“There’s always time for someone who needs help,” she replied with a faint smile. “Please, come into my office.”

The office reflected her personality: modern, structured, and welcoming in just the right measure. Shelves full of neatly arranged law books lined the walls, and a painting of a mountain landscape adorned the main wall. Caitlyn gestured to a chair in front of her desk and waited for you to sit before taking her seat.

“Well,” she began, pulling out an elegant leather notebook and a fountain pen. “Before we begin, I want you to know that everything you share with me is absolutely confidential. My goal is to make sure you get the justice you deserve. But for that, I need you to be completely honest with me. Are you ready?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her gaze on you. There was something in her eyes, a blend of professionalism and empathy, that made you want to trust her, even though your instincts screamed that trusting someone again was a risk.

“Yes… I’m ready,” you replied, though the truth was you weren’t sure you were.

Caitlyn nodded calmly. “Perfect. Then let’s start from the beginning. Why did you decide to get a divorce?”

The air suddenly seemed heavier. You looked at your hands, playing with your fingers in an attempt to keep your composure. The words were trapped in your throat, as if saying them would make everything real again.

"My ex-husband... he wasn’t who he seemed to be at first," you began, your voice barely a whisper. "When we got married, I thought I had found someone who loved me. But over time, he changed. It started with small things: constant criticism, unfounded jealousy. And then… it became physical."

Caitlyn’s face remained neutral, though her eyes reflected a spark of contained indignation. "Can you be more specific? This is important for the case."

You took a deep breath, trying to gather strength. "He hit me. When things didn’t go his way, he’d take out his anger on me. He told me I was nobody without him, that no one else would ever want me. And for a while… I believed him."

Your voice broke on the last word, but Caitlyn didn’t interrupt. She gave you space to continue, which was, in a way, comforting.

"After a long time, something inside me broke. I couldn’t take it anymore. I asked for a divorce, but he… he didn’t accept it. He’s still harassing me, calling me, showing up at places he knows I’ll be. It’s like I can’t escape him, even after leaving."

Caitlyn set her pen down on the desk, leaning forward slightly. Her expression was serious but not stern. "I’m so sorry you had to go through that. No one deserves to live like that, and I’m glad you found the courage to leave. Now, let’s make sure he has no power over you ever again."

Her words resonated with you, though part of you still doubted. You’d heard promises before—from friends, therapists, even other attorneys. But Caitlyn seemed different. There was a conviction in her tone that made you want to believe her, even though the fear lingered, ever-present.

“What can we do?” you finally asked, your voice still trembling.

“First, I’m going to request a restraining order to keep him from coming near you,” Caitlyn explained with a confidence that was almost reassuring. “I’ll also review the terms of your divorce to ensure you’re fully protected legally. This includes any financial or property agreements he might be using to manipulate you.”

You nodded slowly, feeling a faint spark of hope. “Thank you… I really appreciate it.”

Caitlyn smiled, this time with a touch of softness. “It’s my job, but it’s also the right thing to do. No one should live in fear. And if you ever need to talk about anything, don’t hesitate to call me. I’m here to help, not just as your attorney, but also as someone who cares about your well-being.”

Her words disarmed you. You weren’t used to someone caring about you without expecting something in return. Maybe, just maybe, Caitlyn Kiramman was different.

When you left her office that afternoon, you felt as if something inside you had shifted. Perhaps it wasn’t hope yet, but it was a small glimmer of possibility. Maybe this time, things could be different.

The sunlight streamed through the windows of your apartment, illuminating the unpacked boxes still occupying the corner of the living room. Days had passed since your first meeting with Caitlyn, and although she had promised to work on your case, the anxiety continued to linger like a shadow. Every time your phone vibrated, your body tensed. It was always the same: a message, a call, or an email from your ex-husband.

Today was no exception. The phone on the table started ringing. You instantly recognized the number, and a shiver ran down your spine. You hesitated for a moment but finally picked it up, as if facing him was inevitable.

“What do you want?” you asked, your voice dry.

On the other end of the line, your ex-husband's voice carried the same false sweetness you knew all too well. “I just wanted to know how you’re doing. I worry about you being alone in that big apartment. You don’t have to do this alone, sweetheart. We can fix things.”

Your jaw tightened. “I’m not your ‘sweetheart.’ I don’t want to hear from you again.”

There was an awkward silence before his tone shifted, becoming colder, more menacing. “Don’t be so ungrateful. You know no one else will take care of you the way I did. You’re acting like a child, but I promise you this isn’t over.”

You hung up before he could say anything else, dropping the phone on the table as if it burned. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You wouldn’t give him that power, not again.

Then your phone vibrated again, this time showing Caitlyn’s name on the screen. Quickly wiping your face, you answered.

“Hello,” you said, trying to keep your tone neutral.

“Hi, how are you?” Caitlyn’s voice was a balm after the poison you’d just heard. “I’m calling to let you know we’ve started the process for the restraining order. I need you to come by my office tomorrow to sign some documents. Does that work for you?”

“Yes, of course,” you replied, feeling a small wave of relief. “Thank you, Caitlyn.”

“There’s no need to thank me. It’s the least I can do,” she said. There was a brief pause before she continued, her tone more personal this time. “Are you okay? You sound... upset.”

You hesitated, but something in her tone made you feel like you could be honest. “He called. He keeps saying this isn’t over. It scares me to think he’ll never stop.”

The silence on the other end of the line was brief but filled with intention. “He will stop. Trust me, I’ll make sure he has no way of getting near you. But if you ever feel unsafe or if he contacts you again, call me immediately. No matter the time.”

“Thank you,” you repeated, this time with more sincerity.

“Get some rest tonight,” she said before hanging up. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

That night, you slept with your phone by your side, her contact saved in favorites, like a safety net you’d never had before.

When you arrived at Caitlyn’s office, she was already waiting for you in the reception area, looking just as impeccable as the first time. This time, she greeted you with a slightly more relaxed smile.

“Hi,” she said, extending a hand to you. “Ready to tackle this?”

“Ready,” you lied, though the truth was that the thought of facing your ex-husband made your stomach twist.

The meeting was brief but intense. Caitlyn explained every detail of the process, ensuring you understood everything you were about to sign. Her patience was admirable; no matter how many questions you asked, she always answered with calm and precision.

“With this, he won’t be able to come within 500 meters of you,” Caitlyn explained as you signed the final document. “And if he does, he’ll face immediate legal consequences.”

“Do you think that’ll stop him?” you asked, your voice unsure.

“We’ll stop him,” she replied firmly. “You’re not alone in this.”

There was a moment of silence when you realized how much those words meant to you. You weren’t used to someone else sharing your burden. Caitlyn, with her steady gaze and unwavering posture, seemed like the only person who truly understood what you needed: support, without judgment.

When the meeting ended, Caitlyn walked with you to the elevator. “Do you have plans for the rest of the day?” she asked.

You shook your head. “Not really. I guess I’ll head home and try to relax.”

“How about grabbing a coffee?” Her proposal caught you off guard. Caitlyn noticed your expression and smiled. “Nothing case-related, I promise. I just thought you could use a break.”

For a moment, you hesitated, but something in her smile made you nod. “Okay. I think I could use that.”

The coffee shop was small and cozy, far from the city’s bustle. Caitlyn ordered an espresso while you opted for something milder. The conversation, to your surprise, flowed naturally.

“So, you don’t believe in love?” Caitlyn asked at one point, her tone curious but non-intrusive.

“Not after what I’ve been through,” you admitted with a surprising level of honesty. “I feel like trusting someone is too dangerous. I’d rather not take the risk.”

Caitlyn nodded slowly. “That’s understandable. We all carry our wounds, but I don’t think you should close yourself off entirely. There are loves that don’t hurt, loves that heal.”

“I’m not sure those exist,” you murmured, staring into your cup as if the answer lay at the bottom.

“Let me ask you something,” Caitlyn said, leaning in slightly. “If you could imagine the perfect love, one that doesn’t hurt you, what would it be like?”

The question caught you off guard but allowed you to dream for a moment. “I guess it would be... someone who respects me, who doesn’t make me feel less. Someone who’s there because they want to be, not because they need me to feel better about themselves.”

“That doesn’t sound impossible,” Caitlyn replied with a soft smile. “Maybe you just need time to find it—or to let it find you.”

The warmth in her words made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t in a long time. Caitlyn wasn’t trying to fix you or judge you; she simply wanted to understand you.

After a while, the conversation turned lighter. Caitlyn talked about her hobbies, her walks in nature, and her passion for art. You discovered a shared love for museums, and at one point, you both laughed as you realized you had completely opposite opinions on a famous painting.

Before you knew it, hours had passed. When you finally left the café, you realized that, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t thinking about your ex-husband or your fears. Caitlyn had done something you thought impossible: given you a break from your own thoughts.

“Thank you for this,” you said as you parted ways.

“Anytime,” she replied, with a smile that seemed to promise she meant it.

As you walked home, you couldn’t help but feel that something had changed. For the first time, you began to wonder if the love Caitlyn described truly existed—and if you might deserve it.

The sense of calm Caitlyn had provided at the café lasted longer than you had expected, but it wasn’t eternal. The next day, the sound of a notification on your phone shattered the fragile tranquility you had begun to build. It was a message from him:

'You can’t hide forever. You know this game won’t last much longer. Just come back, and everything will be as it was before.'

Anger and fear mixed in your chest, forming a knot you could barely untangle. You carefully placed the phone on the table, as if any sudden movement could trigger an explosion. For a moment, you considered doing nothing, but then you thought of Caitlyn—her firm voice, her promise to help you.

Determined, you dialed her number.

“Hello,” she answered, her tone immediate and professional.

“He messaged me again,” you said quickly, as if saying the words more slowly might somehow make them more real.

“What did he say?” she asked, her voice tinged with genuine concern.

You read her the message, and when you finished, there was a brief silence on the other end before Caitlyn spoke. “This confirms he’s violating the preliminary terms. I need you to send me a screenshot of the message. This will help us strengthen the restraining order.”

“Of course,” you replied, but your voice trembled.

“Listen,” Caitlyn continued, her tone softer now. “I know this is hard, but you’re doing the right thing. Every step we take brings him closer to facing the consequences of his actions. You have my word—we won’t let him get away with this.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, tears welling up in your eyes but refusing to fall. Her voice was like an anchor, something to hold on to while fear threatened to pull you under.

Later that same day, you received another message from Caitlyn. This time, it was an invitation:

'How about a break? If you’re free this afternoon, I’d like to take you somewhere I think you’ll like. We could chat a bit, outside of the legal context.'

The simple fact that she thought of you that way, beyond her professional obligations, made you smile. You hesitated for a moment but then accepted.

The afternoon was warm and sunny when you arrived at the place Caitlyn had indicated: a sprawling field where a small group of horses grazed peacefully. Caitlyn was waiting by the fence, wearing a casual outfit that contrasted with the always-polished image you had of her.

“Horseback riding?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you approached.

Caitlyn smiled, amused. “I thought you might enjoy something different. You don’t have to ride if you don’t want to, but you should at least try.”

The sparkle in her eyes made any resistance you might have felt vanish. “Alright,” you agreed, even though you had no idea how you were going to manage it.

Caitlyn introduced you to a light brown horse named Storm, assuring you he was calm and obedient. “He’s perfect for beginners,” she said, gently stroking his mane.

With patience and a contagious calmness, Caitlyn taught you how to mount. Her voice was firm yet encouraging, guiding you step by step. At first, you felt clumsy and out of place, but little by little, you began to enjoy the experience.

“This isn’t so bad,” you admitted after a few minutes, surprised at yourself.

“Told you,” Caitlyn replied with a smile.

The afternoon passed in a flash. Caitlyn led you along a trail winding through the trees, and for a moment, you felt free. No past, no fears, just the present. Caitlyn rode beside you, sharing stories from her childhood and laughing with you when you made mistakes.

Then it happened. A low-hanging branch caught you by surprise, and in your attempt to dodge it, you lost your balance. Although the fall wasn’t severe, you hit the ground with a dull thud.

“Are you okay?!” Caitlyn dismounted quickly and ran to you, her face full of worry.

“I’m fine,” you replied, laughing nervously as you brushed off the dirt. “Just hurt my pride.”

“Don’t do that to me again,” Caitlyn said, kneeling beside you. Though her tone was firm, her eyes were full of relief.

Before you could respond, she raised a hand and removed a small twig tangled in your hair. The gesture was so tender and natural it left you speechless.

“Are you really okay?” she asked again, her eyes searching yours.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

The silence that followed was different, charged with a tension you hadn’t felt before. Caitlyn was so close you could see every detail of her face, from the gentle curve of her lips to the light in her eyes. She was beyond gorgeousness.

And then it happened. Caitlyn leaned toward you slowly, giving you time to stop her if you wanted. But you didn’t. When her lips finally touched yours, it felt like the world stopped. Her kiss was soft, careful, as if she feared breaking something fragile.

When she pulled away, she looked at you with a mix of curiosity and nervousness. “Are you okay with this?”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you simply nodded.

For the first time in a long time, you weren’t thinking about your past or your fears. In that moment, there was only Caitlyn and you. And that was enough.

Caitlyn helped you up after the kiss, holding your hand as you stood. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, but she didn’t comment on it. You didn’t know what to say either; words seemed caught in your throat. You simply walked beside her in silence toward the horses, still trying to process what had happened.

“I think it’s best we call it a day for riding lessons,” Caitlyn finally said with a soft smile as she stroked Storm’s mane.

“Yeah... probably for the best,” you replied, your voice barely audible.

You got into Caitlyn’s car, and the ride back was quiet. Though the conversation was light and comfortable, you couldn’t ignore the change that had occurred between you. The kiss lingered in every pause, in every glance she shot your way, and in the slight nervousness you felt whenever her fingers brushed yours on the gear shift.

When you finally arrived at your apartment, the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken words. Caitlyn walked you to your door as she usually did, but this time, both of you knew something was different.

“Thank you for today,” you said, finally breaking the silence. “It was... unexpected, but I’m glad I went.”

“Me too,” Caitlyn replied, her eyes meeting yours. “I’m glad you gave yourself the chance to try. And... that you let me be there.”

The air between you grew heavier. You didn’t want her to leave, but the idea of inviting her in was terrifying. You’d been avoiding confronting your feelings, your desires, but now they were right in front of you.

Finally, Caitlyn spoke, her tone gentle and cautious. “I don’t want to pressure you, but... would you like me to stay a little longer? Only if you’re comfortable with it.”

You were so happy, it was like she could read your mind, no one had never understood you as well as Caitlyn did.

You nodded slowly, your heart pounding. “Yes. I’d like that.”

Inside your apartment, you tried to keep yourself busy making tea, but your hands trembled slightly as you set out the cups. Caitlyn stood near the table, watching you with a mix of patience and something else you couldn’t quite identify.

“Are you okay?” she asked, stepping closer.

“Yes... just nervous,” you admitted, not turning to face her.

“You don’t have to be,” she replied, her voice low and reassuring. “I won’t do anything you don’t want. I’m just here because I want to be with you, not because I want something from you.”

You took a deep breath and finally turned to face her. “It’s just that... I’ve never been with a woman before. I don’t know what to expect, and... I think I’m scared of doing it wrong.”

Caitlyn smiled, stepping closer until she was close enough to take your hands. “This isn’t a test or something you can fail. It’s just... us. No one else, no expectations, just what you want.”

The sincerity in her voice and the softness of her touch made something inside you relax. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you could let your guard down, at least a little.

“I trust you,” you whispered, surprised by your own words.

Caitlyn leaned in and kissed you again, with a tenderness that melted away all your nerves. There was something about the way she touched you, the way she looked at you, that made everything else seem irrelevant. There was no rush, just patience and care, as if she had all the time in the world for you.

As the kiss deepened, she slowly guided you to your room, always attuned to your reactions, ensuring you were comfortable. Your breathing was uneven, but not out of fear this time. It was different—something warmer, more intimate.

“If at any point you want me to stop, just say so,” Caitlyn murmured against your lips, her tone filled with so much understanding it nearly made you cry.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Caitlyn smiled and sat you down on the bed, she knelt down in front of you and carefully removed your shoes, placing them on the side of the bed, perfectly aligned. There was something about the way she touched you, it was so motherly, so loving.

“What do I do?” You asked, your nerves on edge, sounding like a complete novice, in fact you felt like you were a virgin again.

But Caitlyn didn’t judge you, she moved closer to you, her perfect posture slightly bent.

“Why don’t we start by taking off our clothes? We’ll be more comfortable that way,” She caressed your cheek before adding, “I would take them off myself, but I want to push you to get out of your comfort zone on your own. I know you can do it.”

You rubbed your face against her hand, grateful. The way she always believed in you, with her encouraging words, gave you enough confidence to do it. This was the first time you had ever stripped so quickly in your life, your pants and sweater flew across the room, as did your underwear. And you were anxious, eager, it was a new experience that even though it terrified you, you really wanted to enjoy.

Your cheeks burned when you saw a naked Caitlyn in front of you. She was standing upright with that confident smile, and how could she not be confident in herself if she looked absolutely breathtaking? Her build was slim, but not flabby, you could tell she took great care of herself, perhaps with a strict diet and exercise routine. Her waist was so small and her hips big, Caitlyn was the physical definition of what an hourglass was.

However, that wasn't what caught your attention the most. You couldn't take your eyes off her breasts, they were much bigger than yours, pale and firm. They probably wouldn't fit in your hands completely, they would overflow through your fingers. Your tongue licked your lips as you imagined such a scene.

"Do you want to touch them?" Caitlyn once again read your mind.

At another time you would have been extremely embarrassed, but this wasn't the case, your mind was clouded with fictional scenarios that you wanted to make come true at all costs, so you nodded without thinking.

A small smirk played at the corners of her lips as she reached out, taking your hand in hers. Guiding it slowly, she placed your palm directly over one of her soft, supple mounds.

"Go on then," she purred, her voice low and inviting. "Touch them. Feel how soft and warm they are..."

As your fingers began to explore her delicate flesh, Caitlyn let out a soft sigh, arching slightly into your touch. Your hands kneaded and caressed, marveling at the way her nipples stiffened beneath your palms.

"Mmm, your touch feels so good..." she breathed, desire evident in her half-lidded blue eyes.

She took your other hand, placing it on her hip before slowly trailing it up the curve of her waist, over her ribs, until it too cupped the weight of her other breast. Caitlyn shivered at the sensation, her heart racing as she gazed into your eyes with open want.

She leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that left no doubt as to her intentions. Her tongue dominated yours, stoking the flames of your desire as her naked body pressed against yours, soft curves melding with harder planes.

"Can I put them in my mouth?" You asked like a hungry baby.

Caitlyn's breath hitched as she felt your eager words whispered against her lips. A thrill ran through her at the desperation in your voice, the clear desire to taste her. She pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, her own gaze smoldering with want.

"You can do whatever you want, though I love that you ask permission first. Go on then." Caitlyn whispered to you, tucking your hair behind your ears.

She guided your head down, cradling the back of your neck as she brought your lips to the swell of her breast. The scent of her perfume mixed with the natural aroma of her skin filled your nostrils, making your mouth water with anticipation.

"Don't hold back, love," Caitlyn encouraged, her British accent husky with desire.

And you didn't waste any more time, you buried your face against her breasts as if your life depended on it. You sniffed like a bloodhound tracking the tracks of a wild animal in the forest. It was like hugging the best pillow on the market. It was a soft paradise.

She gasped as your lips closed around the hardened peak, your tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive flesh. Her fingers tangled in your hair, holding you close as jolts of pleasure raced through her body.

"That's it," she panted, arching into you. "Just like that... Ah! Your mouth feels incredible... Are you sure that's your first time with a woman?"

You blushed and suddenly found yourself thirsty for praise, needing her approval.

“Am I doing this right?” You murmured with her right nipple still in your mouth.

Caitlyn closed her eyes and frowned, as if trying to control herself, you were pushing all the right buttons in her.

Caitlyn let out a sharp gasp followed by a low, appreciative moan as you suckled harder at her breast, your enthusiasm evident in every movement of your mouth. Her fingers tightened their grip in your hair, nails scraping lightly against your scalp.

"Oh, yes, you're doing it so very right," she praised breathlessly, her voice dripping with desire. "Your mouth feels divine on my skin. Don't stop, darling... Keep worshipping my breasts just like that."

She guided your head from one breast to the other, making sure you gave each the same devoted attention. With each suckle and lick, Caitlyn felt the heat between her thighs grow, her arousal building with every passing second.

"That's it, sweetheart... Use your tongue more, trace the curves of my breasts. Ah! Yes, just like that..." she encouraged, her head falling back as she arched into your touch. "You're stoking the flames of my desire with every brush of your lips against my skin."

Caitlyn's heart raced, her chest heaving with each ragged breath she took. She had never felt so wanted, so desired, and it was all thanks to your eager, inexperienced touch. It was intoxicating, and she knew she wouldn't be able to hold back for long if you kept touching her like this.

"Mmm... You're a natural at this," she purred, her words dripping with approval. "Keep pleasuring me just like that, and I'll make sure to reward you properly..."

With that promise hanging in the air between you, Caitlyn guided your mouth back to her breast, desperate to feel your lips and tongue on her sensitive flesh once more. She needed you to keep touching her, to keep stoking the inferno raging inside her... until it consumed them both.

Caitlyn gazed at you with a mix of lust and adoration, taking in the sight of your messy hair, saliva-slick lips, and those adorable, desire-glazed eyes. She felt her heart clench in her chest, overwhelmed by the sheer, unbridled want she saw reflected back at her. Unable to resist, Caitlyn leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that left no doubt as to her hunger for you.

As she broke the kiss, Caitlyn's hands slid down to your waist, gripping you firmly. With a surge of strength, she flipped your positions, easily maneuvering you both until she was lying on her back on the bed, your smaller frame now draped over hers. She could feel heat the of your skin against every inch of her body, stoking the flames of her arousal to new heights.

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt your core grind against her thigh, your slick arousal coating her skin. The sensation sent a bolt of desire straight to her own aching center, making her hips buck up involuntarily to meet yours. She could hear the needy moan that tore from your throat, the sound echoing in the charged air between you.

"Mmm," Caitlyn purred, her voice a low, seductive rasp. "Does my girl want to ride my thigh? Is that what you need, love?"

You felted so ashamed, but that didn't stopped you from nodding.

She reached down, gripping your hips and guiding you to grind against her thigh more deliberately. Her own hips rolled in tandem with yours, providing a steady, delicious friction that promised to drive you both wild with lust.

"That's it," she encouraged, her blue eyes dark and heavy-lidded as she watched your face contort with pleasure. "Use my thigh, sweetheart."

Caitlyn's own body thrummed with need, her core clenching and fluttering around nothing. She desperately wanted to fill you, to claim you, to make you hers in every way imaginable. But for now, she would settle for watching you take your pleasure from her, knowing that your satisfaction would only heighten her own.

You let your own body move, grinding your pussy over Caitlyn's thigh. Your whole face was bright red, you were so embarrassed that you liked something so dirty, you couldn't believe you had these kinds of... fetishes. Caitlyn was making you discover new things about yourself.

Caitlyn watched in awe as you began to move your hips more urgently, grinding your dripping pussy against her thigh with increasing need. She could feel the heat of your arousal, the slickness of your desire coating her skin, and it only fueled her own rapidly growing hunger. Your face was flushed a pretty pink, your eyes wide and uncertain, and Caitlyn found it utterly charming to see you so shamelessly chasing your pleasure.

"Oh, sweetheart," she breathed, her voice heavy with lust and a touch of amusement. "You don't need to be ashamed. Feeling good, taking what you need... it's not naughty or wrong. It's natural, and I think it's absolutely delicious seeing you lost in the throes of passion. Actually, I think now that you're even a better rider than me."

Her statement made you shiver with excitement. You weren't used to seeing this shameless side of Caitlyn and you loved it.

Caitlyn's hands slid around to cup the rounded globes of your ass, squeezing and kneading the firm flesh as she encouraged your movements. She guided your hips, rocking them against her thigh in a steady, sensual rhythm that had your breath coming faster and your moans growing louder with each passing second.

"That's it, darling... Let yourself feel good," she purred, leaning up to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. "I want to watch you come undone, sweetheart. I want to feel your tight little pussy flutter and clench as you find your release..."

God, it was too much for you. Seeing the renowned and dignified attorney Caitlyn Kiramman swearing like that, telling you these dirty things. It was just too much.

Caitlyn's own body was burning up, her core aching with a deep, throbbing need. She could feel her juices flowing freely, coating her thighs as her desire grew more urgent. The sight of you lost in pleasure, the sounds of your increasingly desperate moans and cries, it was all pushing Caitlyn closer and closer to the edge of her own climax.

"Come for me," she demanded breathlessly, her voice thick with longing. "I want to feel your pleasure, sweetheart. Give yourself to me, and I promise I'll give you everything you've ever wanted and more..."

You wanted to give it to her, you wanted to keep going, but your lower body hurt, you weren't used to physical exercise. Besides, you couldn't remember the last time you had sex, it was normal that you were so rusty.

"I'm tired, Cait," you confessed breathlessly, it was the first time you had called her that way, it had escaped so naturally from your lips that it made both of you smile.

With a sudden, swift motion, she flipped your positions once again, this time pinning you beneath her on the bed. She settled her hips between your spread thighs, her dripping core pressing hot and hard against your own. Caitlyn's breath caught in her throat as she felt the slick slide of your sexes meeting, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through her body.

Caitlyn began to move, rolling her hips in a sensual grind against yours. She could feel her slick arousal mingling with your own, the combination of your juices creating a delicious, intoxicating friction that made her toes curl in bliss. She set a steady, sensual rhythm, her hips undulating sinuously as she scissored her aching sex against yours.

"That's it, love," she panted, her blue eyes dark and heavy-lidded as she gazed down at you. "Feel how wet I am, how much I want you... I'm going to make us both come, sweetheart. Hard and fast, until we're both drowning in ecstasy."

She was so romantic and naughty at the same time. She was just perfect.

Caitlyn leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing, dominating kiss. She plundered your mouth with her tongue, swallowing the sweet sounds of your pleasure as she ground her hips more insistently against yours. She could feel her climax building, the coil of tension in her core winding tighter and tighter with each passing second.

"Come with me, sweetheart," she demanded breathlessly against your lips. "Let go, and I promise I'll catch you on the other side. I want to feel you shaking apart in my arms as we come together..."

With a final, sharp thrust of her hips, Caitlyn pushed you both over the edge, crying out in rapture as her orgasm crashed.

Caitlyn's body shuddered and convulsed against yours as her climax slammed into her with the force of a freight train. A guttural, wanton moan tore from her throat, the sound echoing off the walls of the bedroom as wave after wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure consumed her. Her hips jerked and spasmed, grinding her spasming sex against yours in a desperate, almost frantic need to prolong the mind-blowing sensations coursing through her veins.

"Oh, fuck!" she cried out, her voice ragged and raw with ecstasy. "Yes, yes, fuck! Don't stop, please, sweetheart!"

It was so funny how Caitlyn cursed but never forgot her manners.

Your nails raked down her back, leaving red lines of passion in their wake as you clung to her like a woman possessed. She could feel your own body trembling beneath hers, your pussy clenching and fluttering wildly against her own as you teetered on the brink of your own shattering release. The knowledge that she had brought you to this point, that your shared pleasure was about to crest and break over you both like a tidal wave, only heightened Caitlyn's own rapidly building peak.

"That's it, my sweet girl," she panted harshly, her breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps. "Let go, baby. Let it happen. I've got you

With a final, brutal thrust of her hips, Caitlyn drove you both over the precipice, screaming in rapture as your combined orgasms exploded through you like a supernova. Her pussy clamped down around yours, pulsing and throbbing as she gushed her release, coating your thighs and your belly with her slick essence. Caitlyn's entire body quaked and shuddered, lost in the throes of the most intense, mind-melting climax of her life as she rode out the aftershocks of her pleasure, pinning you beneath her.

You both stayed there on the bed, fighting for air.

“How did it feel?” Caitlyn asked you, very interested in your answer.

“Amazing,” You admitted with a smirk. “I don’t know how I haven’t tried this before. Lesbian sex is amazing.” You teased a little.

Caitlyn chuckled softly, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of her kiss-swollen lips as she gazed down at you with a look of pure, unadulterated adoration. She could still feel the aftershocks of her intense orgasm coursing through her body, making her skin tingle and her heart race. The sight of you lying boneless and sated beneath her, your face flushed and your eyes glazed with post-coital bliss, only served to heighten Caitlyn's own sense of deep, visceral satisfaction.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, sweetheart," she purred, her voice a low, sensual rasp.

Caitlyn rolled off of you gently, but kept you tucked close to her side. She draped one arm possessively around your waist, holding you near as she traced idle patterns on your sweat-slicked skin. The feeling of your naked body pressed against hers, the way your curves and valleys seemed to fit so perfectly against her own, made Caitlyn's heart swell with a fierce, protective affection.

And with that, the moment changed. It was as if everything you had been afraid of vanished, replaced by a feeling of connection and desire you hadn’t experienced before. Caitlyn was everything you had needed, everything you had never believed possible.

That’s when you realized: for the first time, you weren’t running from your past but embracing the possibility of a future.

You woke up early the next morning, sunlight streaming through the curtains of your bedroom. The feeling from the previous night still lingered in your body—a mixture of disbelief and a warmth you hadn’t felt in a long time. You turned your head, and there she was, Caitlyn, still asleep, her dark hair framing her peaceful face.

There was something profoundly calming about seeing her like this, stripped of her usual elegant and composed demeanor. For a moment, everything felt simple. But then, your thoughts began to swirl in your mind.

"What does this mean? What does she expect from me? Can I handle this when I don’t even trust myself yet?"

You carefully slipped out of bed so as not to wake her and headed to the kitchen. You needed coffee. Leaning against the counter, you stared into the void, trying to organize your emotions.

"I didn’t expect to find you up so early," Caitlyn’s calm voice spoke behind you.

You turned quickly, startled. She was there, wrapped in one of the sheets, a soft smile on her lips. She seemed completely relaxed, as if last night hadn’t been an emotional earthquake.

"Sorry if I woke you," you said nervously, avoiding her gaze.

"It wasn’t that," she replied, approaching. "I was just worried when you weren’t in bed."

The concern in her tone caused a knot to form in your throat. "I just… needed a moment to think."

Caitlyn didn’t push you; she simply approached and took your hands. "If you need space, I understand. But I want you to know I’m here. And I don’t expect anything from you that you’re not ready to give."

Her honesty was disarming. You had never met someone who respected your boundaries so much, who made you feel seen and heard.

"It’s complicated," you finally said. "This is new to me, and I’m still… dealing with everything that happened with him."

Caitlyn nodded, her eyes full of understanding. "You don’t have to explain everything now. You don’t have to have it all figured out. I just want you to know you’re not alone."

You took a deep breath and nodded. Her words, though simple, struck deep. Maybe you didn’t need to have all the answers. Maybe you just needed to allow yourself to feel, step by step.

The rest of the day passed in a strange but welcome calm. Caitlyn offered to make breakfast, and you watched her as she skillfully moved through the ingredients, enjoying the simplicity of the moment.

"You should know my culinary skills are pretty limited," she joked as she placed some toast and eggs on a plate.

"If you do worse than me, that would be an achievement," you replied, relaxing enough to smile.

The shared laughter eased some of the tension you still felt, and for a moment, it was easy to imagine this could be normal.

"So, what’s the plan for today?" Caitlyn asked as she cleared the dishes after breakfast.

"I guess I should work on some pending paperwork," you said, though you knew your concentration would be nonexistent.

"What if we take the day off?" she suggested, leaning against the doorframe. "We could do something relaxing, something that makes you feel good."

"Like what?" you asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"We could take a walk around the city or visit an art gallery. There’s a photography exhibit I’ve been wanting to see. Or we could just stay here and watch a movie."

The ease with which Caitlyn suggested plans, without any pressure, made you feel more comfortable. "The gallery sounds nice," you finally responded.

The gallery was everything Caitlyn had promised and more. The space was wide and bright, with white walls that highlighted the vibrant framed images. Each photograph seemed to hold its own universe, from natural landscapes to portraits that captured human emotions with disarming intensity.

Caitlyn walked beside you, occasionally stopping to read the descriptions or admire the details of a piece. You were surprised by the depth of her comments. "Look at how the use of light here gives a sense of hope, despite the somber setting," she pointed out in an image of a desolate alley illuminated by a rising sun.

"Are you always this observant?" you asked, trying to hide your admiration for her intelligence.

"I guess it’s part of my job," she replied with a smile. "You learn to read between the lines, whether it’s in a case or a piece of art."

There was one particular moment that struck you. You stopped in front of a black-and-white photograph of a woman in the rain, holding a broken umbrella. There was something in her posture, in the lost look that didn’t face the camera, that deeply resonated with you.

"What do you think of this one?" Caitlyn asked beside you, curious about your reaction.

"It reminds me of myself," you replied after a moment, with a honesty that surprised you.

Caitlyn turned to you, her eyes full of interest. "Why?"

"Because she looks lost but is still standing. Even though everything around her is falling apart, she’s still there."

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Caitlyn simply nodded, as if she understood exactly what you meant, even without further explanation. "That strength you see in her is also in you," she said softly.

She took your hand, and for the first time, you didn’t feel tempted to pull away.

Back at the apartment, the atmosphere was different. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was a palpable emotional weight that seemed to fill every corner of the room. Caitlyn sat on the couch, her eyes following you as you moved nervously, unsure of what to do with your hands.

"Do you want to talk about what you’re feeling?" she finally asked, breaking the silence.

You stopped, your heart pounding. "I’m not sure what I feel. All of this… you… it’s so different from what I’m used to."

She nodded slowly, remaining calm. "I know this is new for you. But you don’t have to have all the answers now. I just want you to trust me. To trust that I’m not going to hurt you."

Her words were like a balm for your wounded soul. You sat beside her, your trembling hands finding hers. "It’s hard to trust. After everything I went through… I feel like if I let go, I’ll end up broken again."

Caitlyn didn’t look away. "I can’t promise everything will be perfect. But I can promise I’ll do everything I can to take care of you. To not be another wound in your life."

You stayed silent for a moment, processing her words. Then, in an act of bravery you didn’t know you had, you leaned closer and rested your head on her shoulder. "Thank you for staying," you whispered.

"I always will," she replied, wrapping you in an embrace that was not only warm but filled with the promise of a love unlike any you had known before.

The night falls with an unsettling stillness in the air. The apartment is completely silent, interrupted only by the soft sound of waves crashing against the shore, but there is no peace in your mind. The phone on the table flashes, and with a sigh, you take it in your hands. It’s a text message, something that twists your stomach every time it appears. The name on the screen burns your eyes.

The message is brief, but its words are like poison infiltrating your thoughts: "I know where you live. You know you’ll always belong to me, right?"

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, but anxiety begins to boil inside you. Fear, panic—you thought you had buried these feelings weeks ago, but now they resurface stronger than ever. He always had a way of manipulating you, making you feel like there was no way out, like he was the only constant in your life, the only source of "safety." And even though you left him behind, every message, every word, is a reminder of his control. A control that now seems to be taking hold of you again.

You can’t let that happen—not this time.

Suddenly, Caitlyn appears in the kitchen doorway, concern etched on her face. Her eyes immediately catch the phone in your hand, the tension in the air between you both palpable. You don’t need to say anything for her to understand. Caitlyn’s face hardens, and without hesitation, she walks toward you.

“Is it him again?” she asks, her voice low but firm.

You nod, putting the phone away, though the desperation still courses through your veins. Caitlyn steps closer and takes your hands in hers, looking at you with a protective intensity that makes you feel a little safer. “You’re not facing this alone,” she says, her words full of conviction. And even though you know she means it, you can’t help but feel a shadow of doubt. After all, it’s not clear what anyone could do to stop him once and for all.

“I know, but…” you hesitate, your voice trembling with fear and frustration. “I don’t want you to put yourself in danger. You don’t have to get involved in this.”

Caitlyn looks at you with a soft but determined smile. “I’ve told you before. I don’t want you to face anything alone. And this isn’t just your problem, you understand? This is mine too, because I love you.”

Those words, those three simple words, hit your chest like a lightning bolt, and for a moment, everything else disappears. The fear, the despair, the harassment… all of it fades in the warm light of her gaze. Is it possible that you’ve found something greater than fear? Something stronger than your past?

Your mind races, but your heart stops for an instant, as if time itself has frozen. Caitlyn loves you. And you… you felted something too, more than you dare admit. But fear, that dark shadow you’ve always carried, prevents you from fully trusting.

“What are we going to do?” you finally ask, though you know the answer lies beyond your fears.

Caitlyn looks into your eyes, her expression serious but her tone firm and protective. “I’m going to take more aggressive legal action. We’re not going to wait anymore. We’ll make sure he stops.”

The knot in your stomach loosens slightly. The confidence in her voice, the promise in her eyes—these are all you need right now. You accept her support, though part of you still wonders whether this is the end of the road or just the beginning of more suffering.

“What if… it’s not enough?” you whisper, almost as if speaking it aloud would make it real.

Caitlyn crouches to your level, gently taking your face in her hands. “If it were just my fear, I’d face it alone. But it’s not, and if you ever feel this way, you tell me, alright? I’m your partner. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

Her tender gesture surprises you, but it also inspires you. Despite everything you’ve been through, the fact that she’s willing to fight alongside you gives you a glimmer of hope you’d long forgotten.

Caitlyn pulls back slightly but not before placing a kiss on your forehead—a silent promise that everything will be okay, or at least that you’ll try together.

The next morning, Caitlyn becomes an unstoppable force. She calls a few trusted colleagues, begins drafting legal documents, and files a formal complaint. She doesn’t do it out of revenge but for you, to protect you. And while you know the legal battle could last weeks, months, you feel a small spark of relief.

Meanwhile, your feelings for Caitlyn begin to solidify. Her constant support, her determination, her bravery… all of it makes you question what you thought you knew about love. Over the days, your conversations grow deeper. The fear of rejection, of vulnerability, still lingers, but so does the certainty that this woman won’t let you fall.

And amidst all of it, your ex-husband’s harassment, though it hasn’t completely stopped, seems to lessen. But there’s still something inside you that you can’t let go of—a sense of insecurity that remains, hidden in the shadows of your heart.

But Caitlyn is by your side. And that’s a truth you’re willing to believe.

The trial has been long, exhausting, and at times, almost unbearable. The days have stretched on, evidence has been presented, emotions have run high, but today, finally, it feels like it’s all about to end. The courtroom is filled with a palpable tension. Nerves are so thick they could be cut with a knife as you await the verdict.

Caitlyn stands by your side, her constant and comforting presence. She’s been with you through every moment, facing every challenge and obstacle alongside you. You feel her hand touch yours, a small gesture, but one full of meaning. The warmth of her touch is the only thing grounding you amidst the emotional storm surrounding you.

The judge finally enters, his voice resonating in the silent room. "We have heard all the evidence, analyzed the testimonies, and after deliberating, this court has reached its verdict."

Your heart beats faster, each word from the judge making time seem to stretch even further. He looks at your ex-husband, with a disapproving expression, and then turns to you, as if everything you’ve endured up until now is finally coming to a resolution.

"The verdict is in favor of the plaintiff. Custody of assets, protection orders, and the no-contact ruling will remain in effect. The defendant, Mr. King..." The judge pauses, as if his words carry the weight of an entire destiny. "...is hereby issued an arrest warrant for his violent behavior during this process."

A sigh of relief escapes your lips. Caitlyn squeezes your hand tightly, sharing this moment of triumph with you. You’ve won. The fear, the uncertainty, the pain—all of it has finally come to an end. But before you can fully savor the feeling, something shifts.

Suddenly, he stands up, his face red with rage. "This isn’t over!" he shouts, his voice filled with fury. "You’ve ruined me! You’ve taken everything from me! I’ll make you pay!"

Fear courses through your veins, panic overtakes you, but before you can react, he lunges at you, his hands wrapping around your neck with brutal force. You can’t breathe; the air is knocked from your lungs, and the pressure on your throat makes you see stars.

In that instant, Caitlyn intervenes. You see her move swiftly, shoving him with all her strength. But the force of her push causes him to lose control, and in the process, he unintentionally pushes her so hard that she falls to the floor, her head striking the edge of a nearby table.

Everything stops.

The chaos of the courtroom fades, and all you can hear is the sound of your own racing heartbeat. Caitlyn lies on the floor, motionless. The wound on her forehead is evident, blood beginning to pool on the ground, and a wave of terror and despair washes over you completely.

"Caitlyn!" you scream, rushing to her, your body trembling as you try to cradle her face. Your hands shake as you touch her skin, now slick with blood, and the sight of her still form on the floor makes you feel as if the entire world is collapsing around you. "No! Please, wake up!"

People shout around you, some rushing to call for an ambulance, but all you can think about is her. Caitlyn. The woman who has stood by you, who has fought for you, who has done everything to help you. And now she’s here, on the floor, unmoving.

Your breath catches, but you manage to stay calm enough to check for her pulse. Seconds feel like an eternity, but finally, you feel it. She’s breathing. Relief. But it’s only fleeting. Fear still grips you, the pain of seeing her injured consumes you.

The ambulance arrives quickly, and within minutes, they’re taking her to the hospital. The paramedics assure you that the worst is over, that her injury isn’t severe, but you can’t shake the knot in your stomach. Everything you feared has happened. Now, the future feels more uncertain than ever. Guilt mixes with the fear of losing her, and for a moment, you doubt everything you’ve known so far.

You sit in the hospital hallway, trembling, your body unable to stop its small shudders of anxiety. The hours seem to stretch on, but you can’t move. You can’t breathe easily until you know she’s okay.

Finally, a nurse appears. "Ms. Caitlyn is awake. You can go see her."

Your heart pounds as you rush to the room. When you enter, you see her there, lying on the bed, her face pale but with that familiar smile on her lips. She’s not as bad as you feared, but the sight of her injured still stings deeply.

"How are you?" you ask, your voice trembling, fear still running through your veins.

Caitlyn looks at you, her eyes shining with a tenderness that melts you. "I’m fine," she says softly, though her tone is full of exhaustion. "Just a little dizzy, but what matters is that you’re safe. That’s what’s important, right?"

You sit beside her, gripping her hand tightly. Your fingers tremble as you seek her touch. "I saw you fall," you whisper, your voice breaking. "I saw you fall, and it felt like the world was ending. I didn’t want to lose you, Cait. I don’t want to lose you."

Caitlyn squeezes your hand, her face filled with that calm that always reassures you. "You don’t have to lose me," she says, her voice steady. "I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to stay."

A few minutes of silence pass, broken only by the soft sound of Caitlyn’s breathing and the rhythm of your heart. The fear of losing her, that overwhelming feeling that you couldn’t live without her, is something new to you. But in that moment, you realize something. Something you’ve been avoiding, afraid to feel it: you’ve fallen in love. Not just with Caitlyn, but with what she represents to you, with how she makes you feel when she’s with you. You’re no longer afraid of what’s to come, because now, the only thing you know is that life, though uncertain, is far more bearable with her by your side.

A few hours later, your ex-husband is arrested for attempted murder. He’s taken into custody, and although the legal process will continue, the fact that he can’t come near you ever again is a relief. You feel a peace you’ve never known before.

Night falls, and you and Caitlyn return home in silence. At your side, she smiles, and though you don’t say a word, you know everything has changed. The fear is gone. The pain has given way to new hope.

Before entering the apartment, you stop and look into her eyes. "I love you," you whisper, finally allowing yourself to accept what you’ve been avoiding for so long.

Caitlyn looks at you, with that gaze that makes you feel safer than ever. "And I love you," she replies softly, before taking your face in her hands and leaning in to kiss your lips tenderly.

At last, you feel like the future is yours to write, together, without fear or shadows.

[sammycutiepie]

"Beneath the Armor"

Vi

writer's note: writing about vi make my legs go weak fr, i crave this woman for breakfast, lunch and dinner. btw this little (pretty long) scenarios comes from my arcane imagines, i'll let the link down there for anyone is interested, also i'll be posting a story for each one of those scenarios for this week, tomorrow its caitlyn's turn ;)

link:

warnings: smut, cute lesbian sex (kinda hard but not that hard), shower sex, praising kink, dirty talk because why not, mention of eating disorders, a lot of fluff, vi is such a softie with reader and we love it.

The gym is unlike anything you've ever seen before. It’s more than a place to train; it’s a cage filled with beasts, a space where weakness is unacceptable. The clash of weights and the guttural cries of effort create a charged atmosphere, thick with tension and adrenaline. You feel out of place in your oversized hoodie and sneakers that haven’t touched a treadmill in months. But you’re here. You have to be.

At the far end of the gym, she stands out like a queen in her domain. Vi. Her short, red pixie-cut hair clings to her face, slick with sweat, and her sportswear hugs a body sculpted for battle. Tattoos snake along her arms, dark ink on powerful muscles that flex with each precise movement. There’s a scar cutting across her lower lip, giving her an edge that makes your stomach twist. She doesn’t just command attention—she demands it, without a word.

She isn’t lounging at the reception desk or scrolling on a phone like the other trainers. She’s in the thick of it, standing over a hulking man at a bench press. Her voice cuts through the clamor like a whip.

"Come on, don’t give me excuses!" she growls, her tone sharp, almost feral. "Three more reps. Unless, of course, you want the whole gym to watch you quit."

The man grits his teeth and powers through, the barbell clanging as he finally racks it with trembling arms. Vi smirks—not satisfied, but victorious—and tosses him a water bottle without another word. Her eyes sweep across the room, landing on you.

You freeze under her gaze. It’s cold, calculating, and, somehow, full of curiosity. There’s no warmth in it, but neither is there scorn. It’s like she’s stripping you bare, measuring something unseen.

Then she moves. Every step is deliberate, confident, and magnetic. The tattoos on her arms ripple with each movement, as if they’re alive. She stops in front of you, close enough that you can smell the faint tang of sweat and something sharper, like steel. Her presence is overwhelming, her stature daunting, but it’s her eyes—piercing, unyielding—that make you feel like you’re shrinking.

"You’re the actress, right?" she asks bluntly, her voice low and rough, like gravel.

"Y-yeah," you manage to stammer, hating the way your voice wavers.

Her gaze drags over you, not in judgment of your appearance, but in search of something deeper. Something you don’t even know if you have.

"Alright. Are you ready to start, or are you gonna turn around and go back to whatever cushy life you came from?"

The challenge in her tone is like a slap. Your pride flares to life, stifling the nervous flutter in your chest. You straighten your spine, lifting your chin as if you’re not dying inside.

"I’m ready."

Vi crosses her arms, her lips twitching into something that might be a smirk—or a dare. "We’ll see about that. Warm-up first. Treadmill, ten minutes at eight kilometers per hour. If you can’t handle that, there’s no point in wasting either of our time."

She jerks her chin toward the row of treadmills, and you swallow hard before moving. As soon as you step on, you can feel her eyes on you, an invisible weight heavier than any barbell in the room.

The first few minutes are manageable. But as the pace picks up, your legs burn, your chest tightens, and sweat drips down your face. You glance at her from the corner of your eye, hoping for some sign of mercy. She doesn’t move, her arms still crossed, her gaze fixed on you like a predator watching prey.

"Don’t stop," she calls out, her voice cutting through the pounding in your ears. "If you can’t even finish this, how the hell are you gonna handle what’s next?"

Her words hit a nerve. Anger sparks, mixing with desperation and something else—admiration. She’s intimidating, yes, but there’s a rawness to her, a strength that’s both terrifying and magnetic. You can’t let her think you’re weak. Not her.

The timer finally beeps, and you stumble off the treadmill, your legs trembling, your breath coming in shallow gasps. Vi approaches, her boots thudding softly against the rubber floor. She stops in front of you, tilting her head as she looks you over.

"Not bad," she says, though her tone suggests she’s not impressed. Her lips quirk into a crooked smile, one that highlights the scar slicing through her lower lip. "But let’s see if you’re really serious. Battle ropes, three rounds, one minute each. And don’t give me any half-assed waves—I want those ropes crashing like a damn hurricane."

You grab the ropes, their weight a promise of pain. The first few seconds are easy, but the burn in your arms quickly turns into fire. Each movement feels like dragging a mountain. The world narrows to the ropes, the ache in your muscles, and the sound of her voice pushing you forward.

"Keep going! Don’t stop unless you want to prove me right," she barks, her voice sharp but steady.

When it’s over, you drop the ropes and collapse to the floor, gasping for air. Vi steps closer, crouching in front of you. Her hand is calloused but steady as she offers it to you.

"Decent effort," she says, her tone softer but still edged with challenge. Her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you think you see something other than scrutiny—maybe respect. "But don’t get cocky. This is just the start. Strength isn’t just about showing up. It’s about commitment. Are you ready for that?"

Her words dig deep, stirring something inside you. You look up at her, her imposing figure framed by the harsh gym lights. She’s everything you’re not—strong, unyielding, fearless. But maybe, just maybe, she’s what you need to become.

"Yes," you say, your voice firm despite the exhaustion.

Her lips curl into a grin, this one warmer, almost approving. "Good. Take a minute to catch your breath. You’ll need it. This is just the beginning."

You can’t stop thinking about your mother as you change in front of the locker room mirror. Every curve of your body, every little angle that doesn’t align with her ideal, screams back at you from your reflection. “You should eat less,” she used to say. “You’ll never land an important role like that.” Her words never left. They’re tattooed on your mind, each syllable chained to the next like a life sentence.

This role isn’t something you want. It never was. But your mother wants it for you, and somehow, her voice always drowns out yours. She was a legend on stage; you’re just a shadow trying to hold itself together under her blinding light.

When you step out of the locker room, Vi is already there, leaning casually against the wall with her arms crossed. Her eyes sweep over you, taking in every detail. There’s no malice in her gaze, but it’s far from gentle. She sees everything.

“Ready?” she asks, her tone edged with challenge.

“Yes,” you answer, the word more reflex than truth.

She leads you to the weight training area. The barbells seem more intimidating up close, and sweat starts pooling in your palms before you even touch them. Vi’s sharp eyes remain fixed on you, calculating.

“Today we’re focusing on building muscle,” she says, her voice steady as she grabs a barbell and starts adding weights with a precision that speaks of years of practice. “It’s a slow process, but if you listen to me, you’ll be amazed at what you can do.”

“Sure,” you mumble, though the thought of lifting anything heavier than a water bottle sends a pang of anxiety through you.

Vi demonstrates the correct form for a basic lift, her movements fluid and strong. When it’s your turn to mimic her, your attempts fall short. Your stance is awkward, your grip weak.

“Lower. You’re not engaging the right muscles,” she says, stepping behind you. Her hands land firmly on your shoulders, adjusting your posture. Her touch is professional but firm, and yet, you can’t help but tense up under her guidance.

“I am doing it right,” you mutter, not meeting her eyes.

Vi exhales sharply, taking a step back. “No, you’re not. And if you keep insisting on doing it your way, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” you snap, your frustration boiling over.

Her brow arches, her surprise quickly replaced by a measured calm. “Look, I’m here to help you, but if you can’t handle a little constructive criticism, maybe this isn’t the place for you.”

Her words cut deeper than they should. They echo everything your mother has ever said about you. Shame and anger bubble to the surface, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“You have no idea what it’s like to be criticized all the time.”

Vi’s silence is heavier than any weight in the room. Her expression shifts—surprise melting into something more contained, almost understanding.

“Everyone’s got their baggage, princess,” she says finally, her voice quieter but no less firm. “But if you let it drag you down, you’re never going to move forward.”

Her response fuels your anger. How dare she reduce something so complex to a throwaway piece of advice? Without another word, you turn away and head for the battle ropes. You don’t need her telling you what you can and can’t do.

You grab the ropes and start moving them with everything you’ve got. Your arms burn, your legs shake, but you keep going, fueled by frustration more than anything else. Vi stays back, watching silently. She doesn’t intervene, doesn’t offer advice—she just waits.

Finally, when your body gives out, you drop the ropes and lean over, hands on your knees, gasping for air. Vi walks over, a bottle of water in hand. She offers it without a word, and though part of you wants to refuse, another part knows you need it. You take it but don’t look at her.

“Anger can be a great fuel,” she says after a moment, her voice steady but laced with something softer. “But only if you know how to control it. Otherwise, it’ll burn you alive.”

“What would you know about that?” you challenge, your eyes meeting hers with defiance.

Vi smirks, but it’s a small, humorless thing. “More than you think. But we’re not here to talk about me. This is about you.”

Her response catches you off guard. You didn’t expect that honesty. And while you’re still angry, there’s something in her words that makes you pause.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, the words almost inaudible.

She nods, accepting your apology without making a big deal of it. “It’s fine. But if you want to get anywhere, you’ve got to leave your emotional crap at the door. There’s no room for it here.”

Her words are blunt, but there’s something in her tone that takes the edge off. It’s as if she’s saying she gets it, but she also believes you’re stronger than this. And though you’d never admit it out loud, that belief means something.

In the days that follow, the tension between you becomes a constant. Vi pushes you hard, and you, raw and defensive, often lash out. But something starts to shift. She begins to notice things others don’t—how you avoid eating around people, how you linger too long in the bathroom, how your energy drains faster than it should.

And you, despite yourself, start noticing her too. The way her eyes soften when she thinks you’re not looking. The strength that isn’t just in her muscles but in the way she carries herself. How, no matter how difficult you make things, she doesn’t walk away.

And though neither of you says it out loud, something unspoken starts to build between you, a connection forged in sweat, anger, and the tentative beginnings of trust.

That morning, Vi notices something off about you. You show up late to training, hair disheveled, eyes distant, as if you haven’t slept in days. She’s used to clients making excuses to avoid hard work, but with you, it’s different. There’s something more—something you can’t hide, no matter how hard you try.

“You’re ten minutes late,” she says as soon as she sees you, her tone sharp but not accusatory.

“Sorry,” you mumble, avoiding her gaze as you hurry to stash your things in the locker room.

Vi doesn’t press further, but her eyes follow you as you move like a shadow through the gym. She’s learned to read people like maps, and yours is littered with scars she can’t yet decipher.

The session begins with something simple: rowing reps. Your movements are sluggish, lacking the usual strength. Vi frowns, stepping closer.

“What’s going on with you today?” she asks, crouching down to meet your eyes.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” you reply too quickly, the words sharp and defensive.

“‘Fine’? You don’t look fine. You’re weaker than usual. Did you sleep last night? Eat anything this morning?”

Her questions strike a nerve. You avoid her gaze, pretending the seat adjustment on the machine is suddenly the most important thing in the world.

“Of course I ate. Stop worrying,” you mutter, but your voice wavers, betraying the lie.

Vi doesn’t push, but something in her expression shifts. It’s as if she’s piecing together a puzzle she hadn’t realized existed.

In the weeks that follow, she continues training you with the same intensity, but now she watches more closely. She notices how you refuse the protein shakes she offers post-workout, how you disappear into the restroom at odd moments, how your body seems to shed strength faster than you can build it.

Then one day, after an especially grueling session, Vi drops her usual casual tone.

“What are you hiding?” she asks, her voice direct, cutting through the air like a blade.

The question freezes you in place.

“What are you talking about? I’m not hiding anything.”

Vi crosses her arms, her piercing gaze pinning you in place.

“Don’t give me that. I’m not stupid. Something’s wrong, and I’m not going to ignore it. So, what is it?”

Your heart pounds. Heat rises to your cheeks, and for a fleeting moment, you think about telling her the truth. But fear wraps around your throat like a vice. How could she possibly understand?

“It’s none of your business, Vi,” you snap, your voice louder than you intended.

She doesn’t flinch. Her eyes stay locked on yours, unyielding yet laced with concern.

“It is my business. I’m your trainer. It’s my job to make sure you’re healthy, and you’re not.”

“I don’t need saving,” you mutter, grabbing your things to leave.

Vi steps in front of you, blocking your path. For the first time, she looks genuinely frustrated.

“This isn’t about saving you. If you’re doing something that’s putting your health at risk, I need to know.”

“You don’t have the right to meddle in my life!” you shout, your words a mix of anger and desperation.

Vi takes a step back, startled by your outburst. But instead of retreating, her expression softens. Her voice lowers, steady but sincere.

“Look... I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I’ve been there. I know what it’s like to try and carry everything on your own. And I know how hard it is to admit you need help.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. How can she know? How can she say something that feels so close to the truth without even knowing the full story?

But instead of responding, you grab your bag and storm out, leaving Vi standing alone in the middle of the gym.

The days that follow are tense. Vi doesn’t bring it up again, but her watchful gaze lingers. You avoid eye contact, unwilling to face the questions you know are still there. Yet you can’t ignore how her demeanor shifts. She’s more careful, more patient. Even her small gestures—like handing you water or adjusting your form—carry an unspoken care that you don’t know how to accept.

Then, one day, after a particularly draining session, Vi finally speaks again.

“Why do you keep coming here?” she asks, sitting across from you as you struggle to catch your breath.

“What kind of question is that?” you reply, too exhausted for a fight.

“I’m serious. You’re here every day, pushing yourself to the edge, but it doesn’t feel like you’re doing this for yourself. So who are you trying to please?”

The question hits harder than any punch. A familiar shadow creeps into your mind—the memory of your mother, the weight of expectations, the endless need to prove yourself. Your throat tightens.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, looking away.

“Maybe I don’t,” Vi admits, leaning forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “But I know what it looks like when someone’s fighting a battle they think they have to face alone. And that’s you.”

You don’t know what to say. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall.

“I don’t need your pity,” you whisper, your voice shaking.

“This isn’t pity,” Vi says softly, her tone unwavering. “It’s respect. Because I see you fighting, and I want to help you win. But I can’t do that if you keep shutting me out.”

Her words linger long after you leave the gym. What if she really does understand? What if letting her in is the only way to move forward?

The tension between you and Vi feels like walking on a minefield. Every word, every glance carries an unspoken weight, like you’re both waiting for the other to finally break. That evening, after another grueling session at the gym, everything finally explodes.

The gym is nearly empty. The last rays of sunlight stream through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor. You’re gathering your things when Vi steps in front of you, her arms crossed and her posture screaming defiance.

“We need to talk,” she says, her tone serious but calm.

“Now?” you mutter, trying to sidestep her. “I’m tired.”

She blocks your path, her voice firm. “You’re not running away this time. Not from me.”

The determination in her voice makes your chest tighten. You grip your towel a little harder, your hands trembling as you look away.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” you finally snap, frustration and something deeper breaking through your voice.

“Because I care about you, damn it!” Vi’s voice rises, then softens as she takes a small step closer. “And because I know what it’s like to be stuck in something that feels like it’s swallowing you whole.”

You freeze, her words cutting through your defenses. Still, you don’t respond. She exhales, running a hand through her short hair before dropping it to her side.

“Do you want to know something about me?” she asks, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You glance up at her, surprised. Slowly, you nod.

Vi crosses her arms again, her gaze fixed somewhere far away. Her jaw tightens before she speaks. “I went to prison. Years ago. Did some things I’m not proud of. At the time, I thought I was doing the right thing, but… life doesn’t always work out the way you want it to.”

Her confession hits you like a punch to the gut. You blink at her, your mouth dry.

“Why are you telling me this?” you whisper.

“Because I want you to know I get it,” she replies, her voice rough with emotion. “I know what it’s like to carry something heavy, something you don’t want anyone else to see, something you think defines you no matter how hard you fight it.”

Her eyes finally meet yours, and you see a raw honesty there that takes your breath away.

“I lost a lot because of it,” she continues, her voice cracking slightly. “My sister… she hasn’t spoken to me in years. I let her down. And even though I’m trying to be better, there are days when I feel like I’ll never be enough.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in her words. Vi, always so tough, so sure of herself, now looks as fragile as you feel.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you,” she says after a moment, her voice steady but gentle. “But I can see you’re fighting a battle you can’t win alone. And I don’t want you to end up like me—pushing away the people who actually give a damn.”

A lump forms in your throat, making it impossible to speak. Before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“I’m not like you, Vi,” you say, your voice breaking. “I’m not strong. I don’t even want to be here.”

She frowns, her brows knitting together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Tears sting your eyes, and you lower your gaze, unable to face her. “I don’t want to be an actress. I never did. I’m only doing this because… because my mother made me. She always makes me. She tells me I’m not good enough, that I’m not pretty enough, that I’m not… enough.”

Vi’s expression softens, her usual sharpness replaced with something tender.

“Is that why you barely eat?” she asks, her voice so quiet it’s almost a whisper.

You flinch, your body going rigid. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.” Her voice is firm but not unkind. “I’ve seen it. It’s not just that you’re thin. It’s the way you disappear after every session, like you’re hiding something.”

Her words hang in the air, and you can’t deny them anymore.

“I didn’t want anyone to know,” you admit, your voice trembling. “It’s the only thing I can control.”

Vi sighs deeply, dragging a hand down her face. When she speaks again, her tone is softer, almost pleading.

“Look, I’m not great at this kind of stuff,” she says. “But you don’t have to go through this alone. You don’t have to hurt yourself for something that’s not your fault.”

“You don’t understand,” you snap, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. “My mother… if she knew I wasn’t perfect, she’d hate me.”

Vi’s eyes narrow, and she steps closer. “And what about you?” she asks, her voice sharp but not unkind. “How long are you going to hate yourself for something you can’t change?”

Her words hit you like a tidal wave. You look up at her, expecting judgment, but all you see is compassion.

“I want to help you,” she says quietly. “If you’ll let me.”

Her proximity feels like a lifeline. Slowly, she lifts a hand, hesitating before resting it gently on your shoulder. Her touch is warm, steady, grounding.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of your pain.

Vi nods, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

The silence that follows is heavy, but not suffocating. It feels like, for the first time in a long while, you’re not completely alone.

When you finally meet her gaze again, there’s something different in her eyes—something that makes your chest ache, but not in a bad way.

And for a moment, you think that maybe, just maybe, you can trust her.

The days following your confession crawl by with a heaviness that lingers, but something shifts between you and Vi. She becomes more attentive, more protective—not in a way that invades your space, but in a way that makes it clear she’s there. She doesn’t judge you. Instead, she watches you with a mix of patience and unyielding determination that you’ve never encountered before.

One afternoon, after an especially grueling workout, Vi stops you before you can slip away like you always do.

“Got a minute?” she asks, holding a small insulated bag in her hand.

You eye her suspiciously, trying to read her expression.

“Depends on what you’re about to spring on me.”

“For this,” she says, pulling a neatly prepared container from the bag. Inside is a salad with grilled chicken, avocado, and a couple of slices of whole-grain bread on the side.

“What is this?” you ask, though the answer is obvious.

“Your lunch.”

Your stomach twists.

“Vi, you can’t just—”

“I’m not forcing you to do anything,” she interrupts, her voice firm but steady. “I just want you to try. And I’m not leaving until you do.”

The weight of her words hangs in the air, but there’s no judgment in her tone. Only that inflexible determination that makes it clear she won’t back down.

With a sigh, you drop onto one of the benches, taking the container from her with shaking hands. Vi sits beside you, keeping just enough distance that you don’t feel cornered, but close enough that you can’t pretend she isn’t there.

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter, stabbing a piece of chicken with the fork.

“Maybe,” she replies with a casual shrug. “But if it means I don’t have to worry about you passing out mid-training, I’m fine with being ridiculous.”

Despite yourself, you let out a quiet laugh. And as you take slow, hesitant bites, you feel something begin to loosen—not just in your chest, but in the way her presence doesn’t feel like pressure but support.

Vi doesn’t stop there. Every day she brings something different: a salad, a wrap, even a small homemade burger on one of those days when you feel like you have nothing left to give. She never leaves until the food is gone, and though it infuriates you at first, you start to begrudgingly appreciate it.

“You’re like a guard dog,” you tell her one afternoon after finishing a chicken wrap she insisted you eat.

“I prefer ‘guardian angel,’” she fires back with a smirk.

“Too dramatic.”

“And you’re too stubborn,” she retorts, bumping your shoulder gently with hers.

The tension between you begins to ease. Vi keeps pushing you in the gym, but she also pushes you emotionally, constantly reminding you—whether with her presence or her persistence—that you’re not in this alone.

Your progress in therapy is slow but steady. Vi is with you every step of the way. She never pushes for details, never pries. She’s just there—a steady, unshakable presence you can hold onto when it feels like everything else is falling apart.

“How was it today?” she asks one afternoon after your session as the two of you walk down the street toward the gym.

“It was… weird,” you admit, staring ahead as you process the swirling thoughts in your mind. “I think I’m starting to understand some things, but it’s like I’m opening doors I’d rather keep locked.”

Vi nods thoughtfully, her hands stuffed deep into the pockets of her jacket.

“Yeah, opening those doors sucks,” she says, her voice low but certain. “But sometimes, it’s the only way out of the damn room.”

Her words catch you off guard with their depth. You glance at her out of the corner of your eye, noticing how the sunlight hits her hair, drawing out its fiery undertones.

Gradually, you begin to notice something different about Vi. The way her gaze lingers on you a little longer than it used to. The way her smiles feel softer, less teasing, as if they’re meant just for you. She’s always been careful with you, but now there’s something more in her gestures—a tenderness that feels deeply personal.

And you feel it, too. You can’t help it. Her unwavering presence, her unyielding support, they begin to shift something in you. Suddenly, Vi isn’t just your anchor; she’s something more.

One evening, after an especially tough training session, you’re packing up your things when Vi approaches you. There’s something in her expression—something serious but not intimidating.

“Hey,” she says, her voice casual but carrying a weight that makes you pause. “Got any plans for Saturday?”

The question catches you completely off guard.

“Why?”

“Because I was thinking…” She hesitates for a moment, scratching the back of her neck in a way that feels almost bashful. “We could go out. Not here. Not to train. Just… you and me.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“Like… a date?”

Vi’s lips twitch into a small, slightly awkward smile, and for the first time, you see a vulnerability in her that takes you by surprise.

“Yeah,” she says, her voice soft but sure. “Like a date.”

Despite the nervous flutter in your chest, you can’t help but smile.

“Okay.”

Her grin stretches wide, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to believe that something good might actually be starting.

Vi isn’t the type to plan extravagant outings or overly complicated surprises. She’s direct, intentional, and focused on what matters: making you feel comfortable and, most importantly, seen. On the morning of your date, she texts you early:

Vi: "Meet me at 7 in Central Park. Wear something comfy, but don’t go full gym rat. Trust me."

The message is simple, but it leaves you curious. And as much as it excites you, it also stirs a small knot of anxiety in your chest. What does she have in mind?

From the moment Vi sent you that message, your heart began to race—a mix of excitement and nerves. This wasn’t just a date. There was something else simmering beneath the surface, an unspoken bond that had been building from the moment your lives intertwined.

When you arrive at the central park, you find her leaning casually against a lamppost. The leather jacket she’s wearing hugs her athletic figure, and the warm glow of the park lights catches the reddish tones in her hair. She’s holding two cups of coffee, and when she spots you, her lips curve into a small, crooked smile.

“You’re right on time,” she says, pushing off the post and handing you one of the cups. “I’m not exactly an expert at this whole dating thing, but starting with coffee felt like a safe bet.”

The warmth of the cup seeps into your hands, mirroring the way her presence always seems to calm you, even when your emotions are in turmoil. You smile, trying to mask the whirlwind of feelings her simple gesture ignites.

“It’s a good start,” you tease. “Though, should I be worried about what else you have planned?”

Vi arches an eyebrow, that familiar look of playful challenge lighting up her face.

“If I told you, it’d ruin the surprise. Just trust me.”

She leads you to a nighttime fair hidden within the park, a kaleidoscope of colorful lights and cheerful music. The aroma of fresh food fills the air, and the vibrant energy of the place draws you in, making it impossible not to relax.

Vi is completely in her element. She pulls you from booth to booth, her enthusiasm infectious. At a shooting game, she demonstrates her impeccable aim, easily winning a plush toy. When she hands it to you, there’s a shy pride in her eyes that makes your heart skip.

“Take it,” she says. “Something tells me you could use a pet.”

You laugh, clutching the plush against your chest as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

“Do you have to be good at everything?”

She shrugs, a playful smirk on her face. “Not everything. But I try.”

As you stroll through the fair, she buys cotton candy and tears off small pieces to offer you. You hesitate at first, and she gives you a look that’s part exasperation, part tenderness.

“It’s just sugar,” she says softly. “I promise it won’t hurt you.”

There’s something vulnerable in her tone, as if the gesture carries more weight than it seems. You accept the cotton candy, and the smile she gives you in return makes the world feel a little brighter.

Later, Vi leads you to a quieter part of the park, away from the noise and lights. You find a secluded spot near a softly lit fountain, the sound of water providing a serene backdrop.

“I thought this might be a good place to talk,” she says, sitting on the fountain’s edge and patting the space beside her.

You sit down, your shoulder brushing hers, and the closeness feels more significant than usual. There’s an undeniable tension in the air, not uncomfortable, but charged with something unspoken.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say quietly. “I needed this more than I realized.”

Vi turns to face you slightly, her arm resting on her knee as she looks at you intently.

“I wanted it to be special for you. You’ve been working so hard, and I just… I wanted to give you a night where you didn’t have to think about anything else.”

Her words catch you off guard. Vi’s always been direct, but there’s a softness in her voice now that you haven’t heard before.

“It is special. But mostly because I’m with you,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, she looks away, as if gathering her courage. Then, her gaze returns to yours, unwavering.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she says, her tone more serious. “I know I’m not always great at putting this kind of thing into words, but… you’re important to me. More than I think you realize.”

Your breath catches, and she continues, her words gaining momentum.

“I care about you. A lot. Seeing you work through everything, watching you fight to heal, it’s… inspiring. I don’t just want to be here for you now—I want to be here for you, period. In your life. For as long as you’ll let me.”

Her honesty is raw, unguarded in a way that feels almost sacred. Your heart is pounding, and for once, you don’t overthink.

You lean in, closing the distance between you. When your lips meet hers, it’s as if the world fades away, leaving only the two of you. The kiss starts soft, tentative, but quickly deepens, fueled by emotions you’ve both kept bottled up for too long.

When you finally pull back, you’re both breathless and a little stunned.

“So…” Vi says, her trademark smirk making a reappearance. “Did I completely screw up this date?”

You laugh, taking her hand in yours and holding it tightly.

“No. It was perfect. Just like you.”

Vi’s smile widens, and as she squeezes your hand, you realize you’ve found something in her you didn’t know you were missing: a partner, a friend, and maybe something even more profound.

The day after your date, the gym feels different. There’s an electric charge in the air, and the thought of seeing her sends a nervous thrill racing down your spine. You tell yourself it’ll be like any other day, but the moment you walk in and spot her, you know you’re lying to yourself.

Vi is at the weight rack, adjusting plates on a barbell. She’s wearing a sleeveless shirt that shows off her toned arms and that tattoo you can’t help but stare at every time you see her. When she notices you, a lopsided grin spreads across her face, but there’s something else in her expression—a spark that sets your pulse racing.

"You’re early. Didn’t recognize you without your coffee," she teases, stepping closer with an easy confidence that makes it impossible to look away.

"I wanted to beat the crowd," you reply, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

Vi moves closer than necessary, her presence overwhelming in the best way. The faint, clean scent of her perfume surrounds you, and for a second, you forget where you are.

"Good. Then let’s see what you’ve got today," she says, her voice tinged with a challenge that sends a thrill through you.

The workout begins, but Vi’s proximity makes it impossible to focus. Her hands are firm yet careful as she adjusts your posture during deadlifts.

"Keep your back straight," she murmurs, stepping behind you. Her hands graze your shoulders as she makes the correction, her touch lingering just long enough to leave your skin tingling.

You glance back at her, and your eyes lock. There’s a fire in her gaze, something raw and unspoken.

"Like this?" you ask, your voice softer than intended.

Vi’s lips twitch in a smirk as she steps back, her eyes not leaving yours. "Exactly. Now, let’s see those squats."

But squats are no reprieve. She demonstrates beside you, her movements precise and controlled, her body impossibly close. At one point, she kneels to check your form, her hands skimming your waist as she positions you.

"Relax your shoulders. You’re too tense," she whispers, her breath warm against your ear.

Your body betrays you, stiffening further under her touch. Vi chuckles, low and rough, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

"If you don’t relax, you’re going to hurt yourself," she says, her voice teasing but laced with something deeper.

You can’t tell if it’s your imagination or if she’s enjoying this game as much as you are. Either way, it’s intoxicating.

The final challenge comes on the rowing machine. Vi crouches in front of you to adjust the settings, her face mere inches from yours. Her eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second, and the air between you thickens.

"Ready?" she asks, her voice lower than usual.

"Always," you reply, trying to match her intensity.

You row with everything you have, her gaze on you the entire time. When you finish, she steps forward, offering her hand to help you up. The contact is brief, but the heat lingers long after her fingers leave yours.

"Good work," she says, her voice softer now, almost intimate.

Your heart pounds as you follow her to the stretching area. The gym is nearly empty, the usual noise reduced to a distant hum. It feels like the two of you are in your own world.

"You pushed me harder today," you say, attempting to lighten the tension swirling around you.

Vi grins, but her eyes betray something deeper. "I wanted to see what you’re made of."

There’s a vulnerability in her tone that catches you off guard, and before you can think better of it, you respond, "Thanks for always looking out for me."

Her smile softens, her usual cocky demeanor replaced by something gentler. "I like looking out for you."

The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. Your breath catches as she steps closer, her hands finding your waist. Her touch sends a jolt through you, and before you know it, her lips are on yours.

The kiss is slow at first, exploratory, but it quickly deepens. Her grip tightens on your waist as your fingers tangle in her hair. The world fades away, leaving only the heat between you.

The gym is silent now, the last patrons long gone. Vi locks the door behind her as you both head toward the showers, the tension between you thick enough to cut.

"We shouldn’t stay too late," you murmur, but there’s no conviction in your voice.

Vi smirks, tossing her towel onto the bench. "Perks of having the keys. No one’s kicking us out."

“Isn’t that abusing of your power?” You joked, beginning to strip off your smelly, sweaty gym clothes.

Vi mimicked your movements and responded with a lopsided smile. "Sometimes I can get a little too obsessed with power."

That was a pretty open statement, one you decided to let slide since you didn't know exactly how to respond. You just knew that it had turned you on, a bit fucking much.

And before you knew it, you were both naked. It was the first time this had happened, you had seen her in underwear before when you changed together after an extensive workout routine, but nothing like this. You were both totally exposed and it felt so natural, so right.

You step into the steamy shower and the sound of running water echoes off the tiles. The air is humid and envelops you as you turn on a nearby faucet. Vi steps into the stream of water, drops falling onto her bare skin. You stare in awe as the water slides down her broad back and lands on her hard, juicy ass. Vi tilts her head back, enjoying how her muscles slowly relax. God, you wanted to jump on her, scratch her and bite her all over. You wanted to leave your personal mark. A warning to the world that that gorgeous woman was yours, only yours.

You can’t tear your eyes away. Her confidence, the way she moves, it’s magnetic.

"Need help rinsing off?" she asks, her voice teasing but her eyes dark with something else.

You swallow hard, your pulse racing. "Please," you actually begged, approaching her without any hesitation, in fact you had a sudden urge to get on all fours and crawl towards her, like a little cat in heat.

Vi reaches out, her fingers brushing against yours. The shower’s heat pales in comparison to the fire igniting between you as she closes the distance. Her hands slide to your hips, pulling you against her as the water streams over you both.

You moaned in surprise as Vi pushed you against the bathroom tiles, your face pressed into the surface, your back bent and rubbing against her hard abs. Vi gently grabbed the back of your neck and whispered, "I'm going to help you bathe. Don't move."

You nodded, and even though you no longer had the pressure of her hand or her body on you, you stayed in the same position, refusing to move a single muscle. You wanted to be a good girl for Vi. You wanted to show her that you were obedient. You heard Vi open the bottle of shower gel, the clean scent of the soap reaching your nostrils, and before you could think of what flower it smelled like exactly, you felt Vi's hands on your skin again, and then your mind went blank.

Vi's calloused hands rubbed the gel over the pale skin of your back, her fingers tracing indecipherable, invisible shapes. She smiled and took you by the hips, pressing her pelvis against your steep ass, admiring your submissive position, admiring the beautiful body differences between the two of you. While Vi was all muscle and iron, you were scrawny and soft all over. So soft that Vi wanted to chew you up and swallow you whole. Vi began to thrust into you as if she had a penis, hitting you with the prominent bones of her hips, rubbing her clit against you in a pretentious and shameless way. She was driving you crazy with pleasure.

"You know, you used to have a nice ass, but with my exercises it has become more toned and lifted. It's irresistible. Every time I look at you from behind I feel like putting you on all fours to eat your ass." She gave you a little spank, it was obvious she didn't used even one percent of her strength, it was a light spanking. A loving spanking. Of course, if there was such a thing.

"Harder," You moaned shamelessly, turning to the side to face that woman.

The redhead had an almost beastly expression on her face, her brow was furrowed, as if she was upset, her teeth were out, sharp and defiant, ready to strike at any moment. The scar on her lip looked more tempting than ever. You wanted to turn around and kiss her. But you didn't. Because you were a good girl. You were her good girl.

Vi ran a hand through her wet hair, pushing it back so it wouldn't impede the stunning view of your body, and that gesture was so fucking sexy.

Vi moved closer to you and planted a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Oh no, sweetie. I'm going to treat you nice, just like a princess like you deserves. No hitting for now, okay?" She kissed the tip of your nose and continued groping you.

When you went to protest you felt her palm on your pussy. Rubbing a little water beneath it. Clearly teasing.

"Vi," You sobbed loudly. The urge to cry invaded your being. You hated being kept waiting. You had never been a patient person, damn it! You liked to have everything you wanted exactly how and when you wanted it, so it was quite normal that you were so irritable and grumpy right now.

"What's wrong, princess?"

God, you wanted to punch her in the face. She clearly knew what was going on. She knew your childish, spoiled personality perfectly. She was just asking to tease you, because she wanted to play with your patience, to show you once again who was in power.

"Fuck me," You looked at her with a pitiful expression, as if you were going to die if you didn't haved her right there, right now.

Vi's eyes sparkled, you had clearly provoked her. And your attempt of manipulation would have worked perfectly if we weren't talking about Vi. Vi was a prideful person with some pretty marked egocentric traits. Plus, she was someone with a lot of discipline due to her job. It wasn't going to be easy to make her fall into temptation.

"Patience, princess," With a wicked smirk, Vi turned you to face her.

She slowly sank to your knees, letting her lips and tongue trail kisses down your neck, chest, and stomach until she was face to face with your dripping pussy. She inhaled deeply, your scent making her head spin with need.

"Mmm, listen to this greedy little pussy... it's begging to be filled, sweetheart. Begging to be stretched and stuffed full of my fingers... my tongue...," Vi's voice was a sinful rasp, dripping with promise and dark intent.

You stifled a moan and bit the back of your hand in an attempt to cope with both the physical and mental stimulation. If you thought Vi was sexy in her natural state, Vi cursing and saying dirty words was even sexier.

She leaned in, letting her lips just barely brush over your slick folds, her hot breath making you shudder. "But I'm going to take my time with you, sweetie. I'm going to tease and torment this pretty cunt until you're sobbing for my touch."

With that, Vi flicked her tongue out, giving to your clit the lightest, quickest lick before pulling back with a evil grin. She could feel how badly you needed more, and she intended to make you work for every ounce of pleasure that she was going to gave you.

Vi's heart raced as she felt your body go rigid, your pussy clamping down like a vice around her fingers as you came with a scream. She could feel your release gushing out, coating her hand and dripping down her wrist. The feeling of your pleasure was intoxicating, and it only fueled Vi's own desperate arousal.

Without pausing, Vi scooped you up into her strong, muscular arms. She cradled you against her chest, holding you close as she carried you both out of the shower. Your naked body pressed against her own, your skin slick and glistening.

Vi's breath caught in her throat as she gazed down at your flushed, satisfied face. You looked utterly breathtaking—like a goddess fresh from the bath. The urge to worship every inch of your flawless skin surged through her, but Vi had other plans first.

Holding you securely with one arm, Vi used her other hand to continue your pleasure, slipping her fingers back into your drenched, spasming your cunt without warning. She set a fast, hard pace, pumping and curling her digits as she pinned you against the nearest wall.

Leaning in, Vi nuzzled into your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin as she spoke, her voice a low, lust-filled rasp. "Mmm, you're so light, princess... so fucking perfect in my arms like this. I could carry you anywhere... anywhere I wanted to claim this sexy cute little body."

She punctuated her words with a particularly deep thrust of her fingers, feeling your velvety walls flutter and clench around her invading digits. Vi groaned, her own clit throbbing with the need to be touched.

"You like being treated like my personal little princess, sweetheart? Like being manhandled and owned by a rough bitch like me?" Vi's lips curled into a wicked smirk as she gazed down at your face, searching for any hint of hesitation or discomfort. She found none. On te contrary. You were enjoying it too much. And it was because you were having the best sex of your life.

Vi's fingers never ceased their relentless assault on your sensitive, dripping core. She could feel your body beginning to tremble and quake in her arms. Your breathing growing more and more ragged with each passing second.

Leaning in close, Vi captured your lips in a searing, demanding kiss. She plundered your mouth, swallowing your moans and whimpers as she continued her brutal pace. Her tongue tangled with yours in a dangerous dance.

Breaking the kiss, Vi's lips moved to your ear. She nipped at the lobe before growling, "That's it, baby... I can feel this greedy cunt throbbing on my fingers. It's like it never wants to be empty, isn't it? Always hungry for more..."

To emphasize her point, Vi pressed her thumb against your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles as she curled her fingers deep inside the clutching heat. She could feel your walls starting to flutter, another climax approaching.

"Come on, princess... give me another one. I want to feel this pretty pussy spasm and squeeze my fingers as you cream yourself all over them. Fucking soak me, sweetheart..."

Still pinning you against the wall with her body, Vi used the hand not occupied with fucking your brains out to grab your thigh, hiking your leg up and over her hip. The new position allowed her to sink her fingers even deeper, to reach that special spot that made you see the stars.

"That's it, sweetie... fuck, you feel so good wrapped around my fingers like this. So hot and tight and fucking perfect," Vi growled, her lips brushing against your face.

Vi felt your body go taut, your pussy clamping down on her fingers like a vice as another intense orgasm ripped through them. You let out a choked sob, tears streaming down your face as you came completely undone in Vi's arms.

The sight of your pleasure, that raw, unbridled ecstasy, filled Vi with a fierce sense of pride and possessive hunger. She held you close as the last waves of your release ebbed, Vi pulled back just enough to cup your face in her hands. She brushed away the tears with her thumbs, her touch surprisingly gentle for someone so used to force.

Gazing down at your face, Vi felt her heart clench in her chest.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Vi leaned down and pressed her lips to yours in a tender, affectionate kiss. It was a kiss filled with unspoken emotion, with a depth of feeling that made Vi's heart race and her skin prickle with anticipation. Her lips moved softly, coaxing your mouth to open for her, to let her in. And when you did, when your lips parted and your tongues met... Vi felt like she was coming home.

She held the kiss for a long moment, savoring the taste of your tears and the salt of your skin. When she finally pulled back, Vi's blue eyes shimmered with a vulnerability she rarely showed to anyone.

Her voice was a low, tender rasp as she spoke, her breath mingling with your own. "Shhh, I've got you, baby... I've got you. You did so good for me, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you..."

The sound of water cascading from the gym showers blends with the echo of your heartbeat. The thick steam fills the space, erasing all traces of what just happened. Your skin still burns, marked by the intensity of the moment you shared. The mix of sweat and Vi's scent lingers in the heat, and every fiber of your being feels alive, every inch of you recalling her touch.

You stand there, catching your breath, when Vi's eyes meet yours. Her usual confidence has been replaced with something raw and unguarded. Vulnerability. Her gaze searches yours, full of questions she’s too afraid to voice.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” Vi’s words break the silence, soft and almost hesitant, but unmistakably clear. Her voice carries a weight that shakes you—like she’s offering a piece of herself she’s never let anyone touch before.

The pause that follows feels endless, and for a moment, you're frozen. But then something ignites inside you. You feel it in your chest—a light, a warmth, a clarity you’ve been longing for.

“Yes. Of course!,” you reply, the word spilling out with such conviction it surprises even you. The ever-present fear you’ve carried seems to vanish entirely.

Vi’s lips curve into the gentlest smile, one you’ve never seen before, and she steps closer, her hands finding yours. Her touch is soft but grounding, her presence a shield against all your doubts.

“I’ll take care of you, princess” she whispers, her voice steady. “Always.”

Your lips curl into a matching smile, and for the first time in a long time, hope replaces the ache in your heart. The world outside doesn’t matter anymore—this moment, with her, is all that exists.

Weeks turn into months, and your life begins to shift. Therapy becomes a safe haven rather than a daunting task. The battles with bulimia, the grueling workouts, the days of overwhelming self-doubt—all start to feel like pieces of a puzzle coming together. Slowly but surely, you begin to see someone new when you look in the mirror. Not the girl your mother used to criticize, not someone trapped by impossible expectations, but someone strong. Someone whole.

And through it all, Vi is there. She’s more than your trainer—she’s your anchor. The one who helps you piece together the shattered parts of yourself. She’s there on your hardest days, steady as a rock, fighting the voices in your head alongside you. And for the first time, you don’t feel alone.

One day, as you walk into the gym, you see her waiting for you like always. Her signature smirk is in place, but there’s something different in her eyes—a softness, a pride that makes your heart skip a beat.

You approach her, nerves bubbling under your skin, and before you can stop yourself, the words you’ve been holding back spill out.

“I don’t need you to be my trainer anymore.”

Her smirk falters, confusion flashing across her face. She straightens, her brows furrowing as if bracing for a blow. “Did I… do something wrong?” Her voice is quieter than usual, tinged with a rare uncertainty.

You shake your head quickly, reaching out to take her hand in yours. “No, Vi. You’ve done everything right.” Your voice cracks slightly as you gather the courage to continue. “But I’m not that person anymore. I’m not the girl who needs to be fixed. I’m stronger now… because of you.”

Her eyes search yours, the tension in her shoulders easing, but she still seems unsure.

“I’ve decided to follow my dream,” you continue, your voice steady now. “I want to study nutrition. I want to help other girls like me, girls who’ve been through what I’ve been through. I want to be someone they can turn to, the way I had you.”

For a moment, Vi just looks at you, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across her face. Not the cocky grin she flashes in the gym, but something soft and genuine, brimming with pride.

“I’m so damn proud of you,” she says, her voice thick with emotion.

Tears well up in your eyes, but this time, they’re not from pain or frustration—they’re from relief, from joy, from knowing you’ve finally found your path.

Vi pulls you into a hug, her arms wrapping around you tightly, and you sink into her warmth. In her embrace, you feel a sense of safety and belonging you’ve never known.

“You’ve got this,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against your ear. “And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

[sammycutiepie]

"Beyond Love, Only Chaos Remains"

Jinx

writer's note: i think that this has been one of the most toxic and sick things that i have ever written, but still, loved it, it's my cup of tea you guys. anyways, if you guys don't know this little twisted histories comes from my arcane imagines, i'll let the link down there if someone's interested, tomorrow is vi's turn ;)

link:

warnings: smut, lesbian sex, fingering, squirts, spitting, use of drugs, mentions of blood and weird kinks, emotional manipulation, stalking demeanor, obsessive and toxic relationship dinamyc, jinx and reader have a lot of mental issues but they still cool... i think that's all, have fun!

You always knew Jinx was special. From the very first moment you saw one of her videos, something clicked inside you, as if her colorful chaos and her manic laughter were the perfect echo of a dark corner in your own mind. It wasn’t just admiration; it was devotion, an inexplicable connection that made you feel like you were destined to find her, to know her… and maybe, to be part of her world.

Your room became an altar to Jinx: the walls covered in screenshots from her streams, printed cutouts of her most iconic photos, and even a monitor dedicated exclusively to playing her best clips on repeat. Each item had a purpose; every detail about her, no matter how insignificant, was another piece in your puzzle. You knew that her real name was Powder, but she felted comfortable being called by Jinx. You knew she about her taste for sweet things, that she preferred “Overblast” matches in chaos mode, and that despite her constant laughter, there were moments of silence between each stream, where she seemed… alone.

The obsession started as a normal interest, at least that’s what you told yourself. But soon you found her postal address in a stream where, by accident, her camera captured the name of her building. It was just curiosity at first, right? You convinced yourself there was nothing wrong with being near her world, even if it meant spending hours in front of her building, imagining what she was doing, if she was thinking about her fans… if she was thinking about you.

Your username, HexedByJinx, first appeared in her chat months ago, when you dared to donate a significant amount during one of her streams. "Oh, wow! HexedByJinx, thanks for the support. I guess someone’s really enchanted by me, huh?" Her laugh echoed in your ears for days. You saved the clip and played it over and over until you could almost recite every word in the exact tone she used.

Soon, HexedByJinx stopped being just a name in the chat. You started sending her carefully selected gifts through her fan mailbox: a package of crumble cookies with a note that said, "To keep your energy up during those long matches," a necklace with a small rocket to match her explosive aesthetic, and a handwritten card that took you days to perfect. You never received a direct response, but in one stream, you saw her wearing the necklace. Your hands shook with excitement.

When she announced an event to meet fans, your chance finally arrived. You knew you couldn’t just be another face in the crowd. You spent weeks planning what to say, what to bring, and how to make Jinx remember you. You even designed a small digital painting inspired by her aesthetic and printed it as a gift. "She’ll see how much I care. She’ll know I’m different," you thought.

On the day of the event, you arrived early, watching the other fans as you waited for your turn. Jinx’s fans filled every corner of the place, many with blue or pink-dyed hair, as a tribute to their favorite influencer. Others carried signs and laughed nervously, but you stayed silent, studying them all. "They don’t understand how special she is," you thought, with a mix of pity and disdain. You were among them, but you weren’t like the others. You were completely focused on one goal: for her to notice you.

"Next!" shouted one of the organizers, signaling that it was your turn.

You took a deep breath and stepped forward. When you finally stood before her, your heart was beating with almost unbearable intensity. There she was, Jinx, with her vibrant blue hair and mischievous smile, like a living work of art. But what struck you the most was seeing her up close, so real.

Upon seeing you, Jinx’s eyes locked onto yours with that intensity you’d always seen through the screen, but now it made you feel naked, vulnerable.

You took a cautious step forward, trying not to show any nerves. You extended the painting you had brought for her, a vibrant, chaotic portrait reflecting her personality.

"This is for you. I made it thinking of everything you represent," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

She took the painting and examined it closely. Her fingers traced the lines of the design as a satisfied smile formed on her face.

"Wow, this is… amazing." Her eyes lifted to meet yours, filled with curiosity. "Wait, you’re…?"

"I’m… well, I’m a big fan," you said, feeling your words sounding clumsy. You decided to take a risk. "I’m the one who always comments on your streams… HexedByJinx."

For a second, her expression changed. She tilted her head, as if trying to remember. Then, her eyes lit up and a wide smile spread across her face.

"Oh, of course! HexedByJinx. I thought you were a bot or something. You’re real. How crazy."

Her reaction made you laugh, easing your nerves a bit.

"You’re the one who always sends those donations with weird messages and crazy gifts. What was it you said? 'Make the world explode a little more'?"

You laughed nervously, nodding.

"Yeah… I tend to say that. I thought you wouldn’t remember."

"Remember? Please, you always make my streams more interesting. Plus, those gifts you send…" She held up the painting. "Like this one. You’ve got style, you know?"

You felt your cheeks heat up under her attention, but you forced yourself to keep composure.

"I just wanted to thank you for everything you do. You inspire me to be braver, more… free."

She studied you carefully, her gaze more intense than you expected. Then, a sly smile crept onto her face.

"Brave, huh? That sounds fun. So, what do you do to be so brave?"

You hesitated for a moment before responding.

"I’m a streamer, like you. Though not as big, of course…" you said, laughing nervously. "But I try to create content that connects with people, like you do."

Jinx rested her chin on her hand, looking at you with renewed interest.

"Streamer? That explains why you’re always in my streams. And what kind of content do you make? Something explosive, or are you one of the boring ones?"

"A bit of everything, but nothing as cool as yours," you admitted, shrugging. "Actually, I wanted to propose something…"

"Propose something?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow with a smile that seemed like a challenge. "Alright, go ahead."

You took a deep breath.

"I wanted to see if we could collaborate on something. I think we could do something unique together, something that combines my art with your… well, your madness."

For a moment, you thought she might reject you. But to your surprise, Jinx burst out laughing.

"Collaborate with me? I like the way you think. You know what? It could be fun."

She leaned back, pulling a card from one of the pockets of her jacket, and slid it across the table to you.

"Here’s my manager’s contact. Talk to her and let me know if you’ve got something crazy enough to surprise me. But you better not bore me, alright?"

You took the card with trembling hands, but you managed to nod with confidence. Before you left, Jinx gave you one last look, leaning toward you with a mischievous smile.

"See you, Sugar Rush. Don’t disappoint me. Call me if you survive my manager," she joked, winking at you.

You stood frozen as the rest of the line moved forward. She gave her a nickname. To her. She was special to Jinx. That night, when you got home, you placed the empty painting where you’d planned to hang a picture of you and Jinx. It was only the beginning. She was already part of your life, but now, you were going to be part of hers.

The emotion you felt when you received Jinx's card didn't fade, even after you got home. You spent the whole night looking at the card, your fingers brushing over the printed letters as if they were the key to a world you now felt a part of. You knew you couldn't let this moment slip away, that you had to do something with it, something that would impress her. The idea of collaborating on something creative with Jinx filled you with adrenaline. The possibility of doing something that would truly leave a mark kept you awake late into the night, until you finally realized the inevitable: the only way to make this collaboration happen was to go beyond the expectations you had set for yourself.

It wasn't just about creating something for her; it was about creating something that reflected the chaos, the madness, and that unpredictable spark that so perfectly represented Jinx. You had to do something striking, something that showed you not only knew her, but understood her essence better than anyone else. Art could be the key, but you needed to go further. You decided you couldn’t present just any proposal. The work you wanted to present had to be completely aligned with what Jinx represented: breaking the conventional, transforming the ordinary into something entirely unexpected.

During the following week, you immersed yourself in creating something truly unique. You drew inspiration from the worlds she herself had built through her streams, the chaotic environments where her explosive energy seemed to bring everything she touched to life. But you also delved into her vulnerability, that strip of silence that snuck between the chaotic moments in her broadcasts. The art you were going to create wouldn’t just be for her; it would reflect everything that lay beneath her mask. You had to make her understand that you had noticed what no one else saw, the complexity of her being.

In the days leading up to your meeting with her manager, you became a whirlwind of ideas, sketches, and calculations. Every brushstroke, every element of the proposal seemed to require more attention, more dedication. You knew you couldn’t fail, not after everything you had done to get this far. Your purpose became a silent obsession: to make Jinx feel seen, not just admired, but understood.

The day you finally decided to send the email to her manager, you felt like you were sending a letter to the future. With a mix of nervousness and determination, you attached the proposal file. You knew everything could change in that moment. Maybe they would call you for a collaboration, or maybe they would ignore you completely, but it didn’t matter. You had come this far, and that in itself was an achievement.

Days later, the message arrived. The contact from her manager had responded, and there was something in their tone that filled you with anxiety. It said that Jinx had seen the proposal and wanted to talk to you, but there was a little unexpected twist: it wasn’t just about the collaboration you had imagined. The message also mentioned something about a new project for Jinx, one that was even more... risky. Were you ready for that? Fear and excitement mixed within you, but you knew you couldn’t back out. This was what you had been waiting for.

The next step was clear: the answer was yes.

The response was affirmative, and although the confirmation came through a formal email, you felt like the whole world stopped in that moment. What seemed like a simple step toward a project was transforming into an opportunity you couldn’t let slip away. Jinx had seen you, recognized your proposal, and now she wanted something more. You knew this meant the line between admiration and collaboration, between the fan and the creator, was completely blurring.

A few days passed before the call actually came. The manager’s number appeared on your phone, and as soon as you saw it, your heart skipped a beat. You answered with your breath catching, trying not to sound like just another fan, even though you knew deep down you were more than that. It wasn’t just the excitement of being part of her world; it was the possibility of getting closer to Jinx, of proving to her that you understood what no one else did.

"Hello, am I speaking with…?" The voice on the other end was professional, direct, but still had a friendly tone.

"Yes, this is… HexedByJinx." The name rolled off your tongue with a familiarity that no longer sounded strange. You felt like this whole journey had led you to this very moment.

"Ah, of course." A soft click in the background, as if the manager was checking something. "Jinx saw your proposal and is interested in seeing more. But before that, we need to talk about the direction you want to take this. She mentioned that you have some... unconventional ideas. That’s something she likes. So, tell me, what do you have in mind?"

A knot formed in your stomach, but you didn’t let fear stop you. You knew this was your chance to shine, and you couldn’t let it slip away. You spoke with a mix of confidence and excitement, detailing everything you had in mind: how you wanted to incorporate Jinx’s chaos, but also her vulnerability, how it all had to feel like an explosion of colors and sounds, but without losing the heart of who she really was. What you had planned wasn’t just visual art; it was an experience, one that could transcend what everyone thought they knew about Jinx.

"Perfect. Jinx is very intrigued. We’ll call you next week to discuss the details. Get ready for the unexpected. There’s no turning back once this starts." The manager hung up before you could say anything more, leaving you with a feeling of adrenaline, but also uncertainty. Something bigger was brewing, something that would change your life forever.

The call left a deep impression on you. It wasn’t just the first step toward a real collaboration, but a reminder that your world was about to be completely shaken. You could feel it, that strange pull toward the unknown. And as the days went by, you found yourself reviewing the details of the proposal again and again, adjusting and perfecting. You knew the work had only just begun.

The day of the meeting arrived faster than you expected. You found yourself again in front of Jinx, this time in her studio, surrounded by the same neon lights you had always seen through the screen, but now so real you could touch them. The air was charged with energy, a palpable chaos that made you feel like you could explode at any moment. She was there, as unpredictable as always, with that smile of hers, as if everything in the world could be destroyed by her laughter.

"Sugar Rush, you're here!" Jinx exclaimed when you walked in, her voice full of that energy that made you feel like nothing was impossible.

You sat across from her, your mind racing with all the ideas you wanted to share, but you knew it was time to listen. The proposal you had made was just the beginning; now you wanted to know how Jinx saw things, how far she could take this collaboration.

"I love the way you think. Have you realized that we're about to do something totally... fucking epic?" Jinx leaned forward, her eyes shining with a mix of excitement and a hint of mischief.

You nodded, trying to keep up, but with every word from Jinx, every gesture, you felt more connected to her, more a part of her world. What had once been a fantasy, an impossible dream, was taking shape, and everything was starting to feel real.

"I know," your voice came out more confidently than you felt, but that was exactly what you needed. You weren't going to let fear hold you back now. "I'm ready to take it further. I'm ready for the world to see what you and I can do."

Jinx smiled again, this time with an unexpected softness, as if she were recognizing something more than just a fan. As if, finally, she was seeing you not only for what you had done but for what you were capable of creating.

"Then... let's get started. And brace yourself, because this is going to be one hell of a ride," her smile widened, and you couldn't help but smile too. You knew what was about to come would change your life forever, and you couldn't wait to see it.

Jinx's studio was lit only by the dim glow of the computer screens, which blinked incessantly, reflecting colors that never seemed fully defined. The place was a chaos of organized disorder, with scattered cables, tools, and fragments of what looked like unfinished experiments. The atmosphere was imbued with the energy of someone who lives on the edge, someone who doesn't fear the unknown, but seeks it, consumes it.

You found yourself staring at everything, feeling the tension rise as Jinx explained what she wanted to do. It wasn't just an artistic project, no. There was something much deeper, something dark behind her words. The intensity in her gaze penetrated to your bones. You knew that what was being forged here could change everything, and the idea of being so close to that chaos, that power, excited and terrified you at the same time.

"What we're going to do isn't just art; it's a statement. Something that will make everyone who sees it, who feels it, in their very core. Not some Mister Beast shit," Jinx said, her voice charged with that unpredictable energy only she could project.

You didn’t need her to explain any further. You understood what she was hinting at. There was something in the way she spoke, something in her proximity, that pushed you to enter unknown territory. The adrenaline started pumping through your veins, a mix of danger and excitement. Chaos had never been so tempting.

You leaned in closer to her, and for a moment, words ceased to matter. You were completely absorbed by her presence. There were no doubts in your mind, only an urgent need to connect with her, to immerse yourself in that darkness that so easily defined her.

"What we're going to do is going to shatter expectations. It won't just be a visual spectacle; it's going to be a clash of sensations, a direct hit to everything people think they understand about art and chaos. We're going to push those limits, make people feel every vibration, every reaction," Jinx said, getting closer and closer, as if guiding you to something you couldn’t walk away from.

The proposal was clear. What they wanted to create wasn’t just a visual installation, but an immersive experience that would take the participants and bring them to the edge of their fears, their darkest desires. A world where sensations would feel too real, where the viewer couldn’t distinguish between what was part of the installation and what was a reflection of their own mind. Chaos, uncertainty, discomfort. All of it would be translated into an emotional test so powerful that those who dared to enter would never leave the same way.

Art, in this case, wasn’t just something to look at. It was something to live.

Jinx was staring at you with an intensity that seemed to consume everything else. Every word, every gesture, was charged with a palpable urgency. She was so determined to bring her vision to the world that everything she touched became part of that vision.

And then, almost impulsively, you took a moment to look at her closely. The spark in her eyes, the way her lips curved into a smile that only true chaos could generate, hypnotized you. You realized you were facing something much bigger than just a project. You were facing a dangerous connection, and you couldn’t say no.

"I want you with me in this. Not as a spectator. As someone who understands what we're about to do," Jinx moved her face closer to yours, her words filled with uncontrollable desire. Her breath was warm on your skin, and her proximity made you feel like you were about to crumble.

And, although you knew it, you couldn’t pull away. This was the strongest attraction you’d felt in a long time. The fear that would normally have held you back faded, replaced by a burning need to be part of her world. To be part of that darkness, of that destructive energy that seemed to define her. You didn’t know if it was her madness, her magnetism, or something much deeper that kept you close, but you had surrendered without even questioning it.

"What do you need from me?" you asked, and although the words came out calmly, your voice was filled with something far more visceral.

Jinx smiled, with that smile that you knew would change everything.

"I need you to use your skills to bring this to life. To make it so real that no one who sees it will ever forget it. It’s going to be a spectacle that will make them question everything they know about fear, pleasure, madness. But I also need you. Without you, this doesn’t make sense."

In that moment, you realized something. This wasn’t just a project. It was an invitation to enter her world. A world where there were no rules. Where chaos was the only constant. And you, by your own choice, were handing yourself over to it.

The connection between both of you was so deep, so intense, that there was no room for doubt anymore. You didn’t need to think. All you could do was move forward. You knew that what you were about to create would be as destructive as it would be addictive. But, in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to sink further into the abyss she offered.

She looked at you, and in her eyes, you could see what she truly wanted. She wasn’t just looking for someone to help her create something. She was looking for someone willing to follow her to the end, to embrace the chaos by her side. And you knew that, for the first time, you felt completely alive.

The air in the warehouse was thick, heavy with the smell of mold and rusted metal. Every step you took echoed with a macabre sound, as if the place itself was alive, waiting for something. Jinx, with that crooked smile you never knew if it was malicious or simply excited, watched you as you moved forward. The room was lit only by dim lights, flickering on the ceiling, giving the place an even darker feel. You knew what you were about to do, and it was impossible not to feel a mix of excitement and tension in the air. This wasn’t just a show. This was art in its rawest, wildest form.

"Are you ready for what we’re about to do?" Jinx asked, her voice charged with an energy that sent shivers down your spine. There was no room for doubt. You knew there was no turning back, and you were surprised by how eager you felt, how your body responded almost automatically to her energy.

"Let’s do it," you replied firmly, though the uncertainty burned inside you. You felt the weight of what was coming. You felt yourself sinking deeper into this chaos, this madness you were creating together. Jinx was the fire, the spark, but you were the one holding the reins, the one who knew how to make it all fit, make it all make sense. Or so you thought. Or so you wanted to believe.

You moved into the center of the warehouse, the stream was on since minutes ago, where the screens and projectors were ready to be activated. Each one was placed with precision, yet there was a touch of disorder, as if it were something that should never be ordered. The perfect combination of chaos and control. Like the two of you.

The first participants arrived, and you felt the energy in the air shift. It was a mixture of anticipation and fear. One by one, the spectators entered the dark corridor you had designed, the lights flickering around them, casting shadows that seemed to move as if they were stalking them. You could see how their eyes filled with doubt, with insecurity, but also with a strange fascination. The sound, a deep rumble that grew in intensity, seeped into their veins, taking hold of them. Their pulse quickened, the air thickened.

They didn’t know what was waiting for them. You did.

As they moved forward, the projections began. They were fragmented images: distorted faces, broken memories, their own fears projected on the screens. The chaos was palpable. The walls, which at first seemed like mere ruins, came to life. You couldn’t help but smile. Everything was working perfectly.

But then came the moment to give them what they really needed. The space darkened completely. The light vanished as if it had never existed. The sound turned into a low, heavy pulse, as though the universe itself was breathing in their ears. In that overwhelming silence, the shadows rose again. Something was changing. Something big was about to happen.

When the corridor ended, the participants were called one by one to enter what you had named "the fear chamber." A small, enclosed space, isolated from the world, where the rules of reality ceased to exist. The first one entered, trembling, unsure of what to expect. You watched everything from a dark corner, your breath steady, your eyes fixed on the screen. Inside the chamber, the lights flickered, then went out. A distorted figure appeared in the projections. The image of a face, and then another, one that quickly faded, leaving behind something that shouldn’t exist.

It was chaos made into an image. But the most interesting part was what was happening in their minds. Their own fears, their darkest desires, their insecurities… all of that was projected in front of them. They couldn’t escape. They couldn’t do anything.

You focused. You knew when to tighten, when to let the pressure build. It was such a precise control that it almost felt like an art of manipulation.

Jinx, in the back, was smiling. She was watching how each one of them cracked, how reality dissolved, but you were in your element, enjoying the chaos with a calm that only you could possess. In this moment, you were completely connected to the spectacle, to what you were creating. Jinx was your ally, your muse, your chaos, but you were the one shaping it into perfection.

Though you never said it aloud, the connection between you and Jinx grew deeper. It wasn’t just the art. It wasn’t just the show. It was something darker, something more personal. The way your ideas merged, the way your minds complemented each other in this game of shadows. It was as if together you could create something no one else could understand, something so intense and visceral that it left marks on the soul. You knew that Jinx needed you to give shape to her madness, and Jinx knew that you were the balance that gave it meaning.

The images on the screen now showed something different. A distorted figure. Your own face merged with Jinx’s. In the projection, both of you seemed to merge, transforming into a single entity. In that moment, you felt it deep inside: it was as if you could no longer live without her.

You looked at her face, at her crooked smile, as she manipulated the controls with almost obsessive precision. You felt that all of this was taking shape faster than you had imagined. The show was going to be something no spectator would ever forget, but the most shocking thing was what was happening inside you. The line between art and reality had blurred, and now, every moment with Jinx consumed you.

The end was near. You knew that the final phase, the climax of the show, was going to break them. The participants were already on the edge of despair, but you didn’t know how far you could push them. Every stimulus, every image, every sound, every smell, was designed to disturb them, to break them. The impact would be brutal. The chaos would be absolute. And you, watching from the shadows, were the one in control.

It was when everything seemed to collapse, when everything became unsustainable, when the participants felt like they were losing their minds, that the show reached its final moment. The lights went out. The sound turned into a roar, a scream, something that pierced their chest. The screen shattered, showing images of them, their own fears spilling over.

When the silence fell, you realized something. You had done what you wanted. You had brought to life something so dark, so deeply disturbing, that no one could forget it.

And by your side, Jinx kept smiling, waiting, enjoying the madness you had just unleashed.

You return to Jinx's apartment after the show, and the air between the two of you feels electrified. The success is palpable. The metrics, the comments, the followers. Everything has exploded. And it's not just because of the show, it's because you and Jinx have touched something deep in each viewer. The chaos you've created has left its mark.

Jinx, always restless, throws her backpack onto the couch and turns on a dim light in the corner of the room, casting shadows that dance on the walls. The music, a pounding industrial sound, begins to play in the background. Both of you are exhausted, but there's something undeniable: the tension between you two is stronger than ever.

You approach her without thinking too much. The celebration moment is no longer about success, but about what has been built between you. The silence between you two stretches on, but it’s not uncomfortable. It's the prelude to something more.

Jinx looks at you with those bright, unpredictable eyes, as always. "Aren't you tired of surprising me, Sugar Rush?" Her tone is playful, but there’s something darker hidden in her gaze, something that attracts you even more.

"No… I'm not tired of you," you reply with a raspy voice, taking another step closer to her. The distance between you two narrows until the electricity is palpable. Jinx doesn’t wait a second, grabs your neck, and kisses you wildly, as if all the madness you’ve unleashed on the world needs to escape in that moment. Her lips are demanding, and you don’t resist. The kiss is brutal, like a clash of overflowing passions.

You pull away a bit, looking into her eyes. You’re breathing fast, as if all the air in the apartment has been exhausted. "Jinx, I… I can’t stop thinking about you. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but… I’m completely obsessed with you. Every time you’re not around, I lose control. I’ve done things... crazy things, things no one should do, and I feel sick for you."

Jinx doesn’t take a step back. Her smile grows, and although you know it’s a smile of madness, you also feel it excites her, everything you've just said. "Oh, Sugar Rush, I love it when you get so... intense."

Without being able to help it, your hands slide over her body, touching her skin, her tattoos, feeling the chemicals between you. "I’ve spent hours following you. Hours, Jinx. I wake up thinking about you, I fall asleep thinking about you. I’ve searched for every picture of you, every video. Sometimes I watch you without you knowing, and all I do is imagine what would happen if I had you closer. And then I realize I already have you close, and that... drives me crazy." Every word escapes your mouth with desperation, as if confessing it, all the weight of your obsession collapses.

Jinx laughs softly, but it’s a laugh full of evil and desire. "I’m driving you completely crazy, huh? I like it." Then, with unexpected speed, she pushes you against the wall, her body pressing against yours almost aggressively. Her hands explore your body with overflowing fury, as if she’s anxious to confirm that everything you just said is true, that she’s completely inside of you.

The touches between the two of you become more and more desperate. You’re afraid of what you might do if you keep giving in to this whirlwind of desire and madness. But at the same time, you can’t stop. Your mind and body are trapped, and Jinx is the only escape.

"You know, right?" Jinx whispers in your ear as her lips trace fiery kisses on your neck. "There’s no turning back. You’re mine, Sugar Rush." Her words are like sweet poison, and something inside you burns with more intensity. The truth becomes clearer, and you don’t want to escape it. You want more.

"Yes… yes, I’m yours," you murmur between gasps, losing yourself in her, in the heat, in the madness that consumes you. "And you… you’re mine. You’ll always be."

Jinx, hearing your words, smiles again, satisfied, and slides closer to you, taking your lips in a kiss so desperate and full of passion that you feel like the whole world is falling apart around you.

The apartment is lit only by the neon lights flickering, casting psychedelic shadows on the walls, like an ezquizofrenic show. The feeling of triumph has already faded, replaced by a much more urgent and dangerous need. You’re consumed by a flame you can’t extinguish, and Jinx knows it. You both know it. The chaos you’ve unleashed on the digital world has been nothing compared to the chaos now taking shape between you two.

In one corner of the room, Jinx pulls out a small box, opens it with a twisted smile, and inside, a white powder glows faintly under the light. She takes a spoonful, looks at it, and then, with a casual gesture, offers it to you.

"Come on, Sugar Rush, don’t you want to fly? We need this. All of this... this is ours. This is the last level."

You’re scared, for a second, of what you’re about to do. But the desire consumes you, temptation takes over. You’ve been through a lot in the last few months, and this... this feels like an escape. Making this decision is almost like, by doing so, you can finally release everything you’ve been holding back.

Taking the powder, you inhale it, feeling the burn in your nostrils, a direct hit to your brain. Instantly, warmth spreads through your body, euphoria begins to take control, and your thoughts become blurry, bubbly. Jinx looks at you intently as the powder begins to take effect, her eyes shining brighter than ever. "That’s it… you’re mine now, completely."

Reality begins to fade, and all that remains is the sound of the music and the sound of labored breathing between the two of you. Jinx approaches you again, this time with unexpected violence. It’s as if everything that was in her before is exploding. Her lips meet yours, and the passion that was once intense becomes something wild, insatiable. The contact between you two is like a clash of uncontrollable forces.

"I’m devouring you, can you feel it?" Jinx whispers between kisses, almost as if she’s talking to someone else, as if the conversation is a delirium. Her voice mixes with the music, creating a strange, thick melody. "You’ll never escape from me, never."

Your head spins. The powder makes everything you touched before now feel more real, more raw, more intensely sensitive. Every touch of her skin makes you shiver, and every word, no matter how absurd, drags you deeper into the madness. You don’t know if the desire you feel for her is real or if it’s just a fantasy fueled by what you’ve inhaled, but you don’t care. The only thing that matters now is that you can’t stop touching her, you can’t stop losing yourself in her.

Jinx's fingers slipped under your shirt, she smiled widely when she noticed you were braless, easy work. Her fingers squeezed your left nipple mercilessly, she rubbed it with her palm from top to bottom to make it more and more sensitive, so sensitive that it was impossible to bear, it was like a delicious torture. Your moans were not long in coming, from one second to the next you found yourself asking for more. You needed more. You needed her.

"What did you say, Sugar Rush?" Jinx asked, moving closer to your neck and biting hard, she sank her teeth in as deep as she could, and when you were about to scream she choked you with her hands to stop you, and that only made you more excited.

She didn't let go of your neck until she felt blood in her mouth, then she grabbed your hair.

"Open your mouth," She demanded, dominant and amused.

You could see her lips stained with blood, with your blood. Exquisite, red had always suited her so well. Without protest you obeyed, opening as wide as you could, sticking out your tongue that was dripping with excess saliva, drool sliding down your throat.

Jinx bit her lip and squeezed your cheeks, her extravagant half-painted nails digging into your skin, then she leaned in and spit in your mouth. You had no other reflex than to swallow and smile at her, grateful for what she was giving you.

Jinx laughed mockingly, she was using you as her toy, and you were more than happy to be.

"Let's try one more time. What do you want from me, Sugar Rush?" Jinx asked, still tasting your blood in her mouth.

"I want you to fuck me, but if you don't want to it doesn't matter. I'd settle for just this, you can keep biting me and drinking my blood, I don't care. I'm happy with anything that comes from you," You were lucky you were so high you couldn't hear yourself, because you really sounded pitiful and not very sane.

And Jinx loved it. She loved the power she had over you.

"You're kind of pathetic, Sugar Rush. You'd settle for anything, huh?" A dangerous glint lit up Jinx's eyes. "I mean, I could pull my pants down right now, piss on your face and you'd still thank me?"

And the saddest thing was that you didn't have to think about it, your head bobbing up and down in a way that was almost mechanical. "I love everything about you," You confessed hoarsely, imagining the scene vividly in your twisted head.

Jinx stifled an awkward laugh.

"Don't worry, baby, I won't go that far... yet," Jinx smirks, her eyes flashing with a dangerous light, and she pushes you against the wall again. "That's what I want to hear, Sugar Rush. I know you want me. I know I'm controlling you. Now shut up and enjoy."

Jinx squeezed her neck with one hand, putting special force where she had hurt her, and her other hand traveled from her mouth to your lower part. She put her hand under your skirt and with her legs she made yours open to have better access. Her index finger moved your underwear to the side and she stuck a finger in you, she took it out and put it in repeatedly, not going too deep, just testing its capacity. Her thumb rubbed your fluids against your clit, pressing it lightly, she was killing you slowly.

You writhed in her clutches, your body made involuntary contractions that harassed you with blows to the face for your stubbornness, Jinx hated it when you didn't listen.

"It seems that someone is a little restless. Maybe I should increase the intensity and see how long you can take it."

And without warning she inserted three more fingers, a scream escaped from deep in your throat, your eyes rolled back. Jinx's hand was busy all over your pussy, her four fingers penetrating you and her thumb never stopping punishing your clit. It was perfect. Simply perfect.

Jinx looked at you with her typical crazy smile, while she masturbated you she brought her face closer to yours to start filling you with licks all over. It was so wild, it was such a basic instinct, so primal. For a moment it felt like they had returned to the Paleolithic period, where they only had to eat, fuck and survive. And the truth is that it sounded like a good plan, the best, actually.

You couldn't take the intensity any longer and you came in a guttural, almost superhuman growl. Your juices were sliding through Jinx's hand, who still hadn't taken her fingers out of you, she was using you as her personalized Xbox controller, overstimulating you in a way that would make you lose your mind at any moment.

Luckily for you, she got bored after a few minutes and let you rest. Her reflex was to wipe your juices off her hand, and seeing this you almost felt like you could cum again.

"Can you sit on my face?" The question came out of your lips without any filter.

Jinx looked at you still with her sticky fingers in her mouth, she smiled and bit her thumb, smelling your essence on it.

"Lie down on the couch."

And you didn't need to hear it twice, even with your legs shaking you ran to the furniture and positioned yourself in the best way, with your head resting on the headboard, waiting patiently for your prize. God, this would be like a dream come true for you. But it all got even better when you looked to the side and were met with the scene you never thought you'd witness in real life.

Jinx was stripping in front of you. Your lustful gaze traveled all over her body, from her slim ankles, to her plump thighs, to those dreamy hips, and of course, to her tiny waist. Her nipples were the same shade of pale pink you'd bet on.

"Don't stare at me like that, you lil' freak," Despite her teasing tone it didn't sound like it bothered her at all.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it, you're gorgeous, the most..."

Jinx rolled her eyes and shushed you with a mime gesture. She stretched and her bones creaked exquisitely, she was warming up her muscles, because the position she would be in next required a lot of physical endurance, especially as time passed.

And meanwhile, you just waited in silence, delighted by the sight. Jinx climbed onto the furniture with her back to you, first staring at you, her pupils dilated.

"Enough talk, get that pretty mouth working. I want to cum too, fuck," And without warning, as was typical of Jinx, she sat on your face, and not in a delicate way, it should be noted.

She jumped on you as if you were an inflatable ball. Leaving you without air every two minutes, and in a very macabre way, you found yourself pleased with that idea. You could die like this and you would be happy.

"Your nose tickles me, Sugar Rush, it's amazing. I think you've become my favorite seat." Jinx alternated between breathy giggles and long sighs, it was a crazy experience, literally.

You were enjoying it, but not completely. You wanted to taste her, make her feel good, show her your full potential. So you took a chance and grabbed her by the hips, digging your fingers into her bones to keep her still.

Jinx moaned loudly as your tongue penetrated her deeply. You buried your face in that glorious pussy, breathing in her scent and only became more addicted, hungrier. You licked without stopping, interspersing it with occasional little bites.

Jinx looked down at you, you looked so cute like this, beneath her.

"I bet I'm fulfilling your biggest fantasy. I'm sure you used to masturbating while watching my streams, you little pervert."

And your muffled moan only proved her right.

"It feels like I'm helping a charity cause," Jinx humiliated you with her words and you could only continue to please her, because it was what you had to do, you were born to do it. "Shit, I'm gonna cum. Open your mouth." She bellowed in a high, whiny voice.

Jinx put pressure on her numb legs and stood up a little, she leaned on the couch and with her other hand she quickly caressed her clit in search of her orgasm. An orgasm that shot not only to your face but to part of your body, Jinx had had the biggest squirt you had ever seen in your life.

Exhausted, she let herself fall on top of you. Your naked and sweaty bodies intertwined like two threads of the same piece. Her long blue hair wrapped around you like a cloak, you stared at the ceiling and smiled big. Is this what happiness felt like?

"Why are you smiling, Sugar Rush?" Jinx asked, poking your cheek.

"Because I'm happy." It was the first time in your life you were able to say such a phrase, and yet you still couldn't believe it. You couldn't believe any of it—couldn't believe your luck.

"Aw, how sweet. Wanna do it again?" The sudden shift in conversation left you stunned.

Jinx didn’t wait for an answer. She kissed you, hard and rough. Your hands moved frantically across her body, searching for more than just skin. You wanted to go deeper, to tear her apart and reach her very heart. It felt as though everything was slipping away, as though reality itself was unraveling, and the only constant was her.

"Do you want to, Sugar Rush? How far would you go for me?" Her voice was husky, dripping with dark energy. She cupped your face gently, almost as if this were some twisted game. "I’ve made you mine, you know that, don’t you?"

You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. You could only react. Her lips, her skin, the chaos surrounding you both—it all blurred into a single, undeniable truth. She was the only thing that mattered. Only her.

The kiss grew more desperate. Your bodies collided, pulled, and clawed at each other, as if devouring and becoming one in the process. Words became meaningless, empty. All that remained was the raw, unrelenting need, the way you were both destroying and remaking each other with every touch, every breath, every frantic caress.

The early morning had fallen when, finally, exhausted and caught in a whirlwind of emotions and adrenaline, they fell into silence. The room was filled with a mix of sweat and the heavy air of what had happened. The glow of the computer screen still illuminated their faces, even though the stream had ended, and the numbers kept rising.

Jinx lay back on the bed, still smiling with that overflowing spark in her eyes, but something had changed. She wasn’t the same crazy, attention-seeking lunatic anymore, but a more vulnerable, more human version of herself. However, you knew that this moment of vulnerability was as fleeting as everything else that passed through her mind. She was at your side in this chaotic world you’d created together, but you couldn’t help but feel that the connection being formed was also a cage.

You stayed sitting on the edge of the bed, breathing heavily, your mind filled with disjointed thoughts, with the truth you had unleashed. You had confessed everything, every dark corner of your obsession, your fears, your desires, your addiction. You had let it all spill out, and instead of rejecting it, Jinx had accepted it as if it were just another game.

“You see, I told you,” Jinx whispered, slowly sitting up. She approached you, taking your chin with a crooked smile. “What we have is unique. And you know what? I love it.”

Her voice was softer, but her eyes still held the madness she always carried. You looked at her, feeling yourself burn even more, unsure if what you’d been searching for was an escape valve or a chain.

“It’s more than that…” you answered in a broken voice, unable to help yourself. The memories of everything you had done, of the hours spent waiting for her to notice you, flooded your mind like a storm. “It’s not just obsession, Jinx… it’s… I need to have you close all the time. I can’t let you go. I can’t.”

Jinx leaned in toward you, her warm breath on your neck, and her red lips left a soft kiss on your skin. You felt the tingling of her touch, but also that persistent sense of emptiness that never went away, that need to keep searching for something more, something you knew you would never find, but couldn’t stop chasing.

“Don’t worry, Sugar Rush. I’m not going anywhere,” she said with a playful laugh, but deep down you knew that the chaos in her mind was devouring her too. Just like it was devouring you. Just like it was consuming both of you.

Silence filled the room for a moment, but it wasn’t the silence of peace. It was the silence of two people trapped in a spiral of madness, fed by their own demons. Love, obsession, chaos, all blended into something bigger than either of them.

You lay beside her, feeling how Jinx’s breath intertwined with yours, even though you both knew neither of you would sleep that night. Inside you, everything was chaos. And that chaos, though terrifying, was the only thing keeping you alive.

[sammycutiepie]

*Hearts Beyond Reason*

Viktor

writer's note: hello here, ican't explain how much i enjoyed writing this, i have a soft spot for viktor. btw, for those who don't know, this story came from one of my arcane imagines, here is the link in case you want to see the other scenarios, of which i will continue to upload little stories like these during the course of this week, tomorrow it's jinx's turn ;)

link:

warnings: kind of a smut, blowjob, praise kink, mature language, princess treatment for my man, pet names, and a little bit of fluff... just a little bit, we love sassy viktor, also, reader is a baddie.

The auditorium was filled, a sea of brilliant minds awaiting eagerly. Viktor, a renowned scientist specializing in artificial intelligence and robotics, approached the podium with a modest posture, though his reputation preceded any presentation. With his calm and precise voice, he explained how his latest research in biotechnology could revolutionize smart prosthetics.

From your seat, you took quick notes, constantly reviewing to ensure nothing slipped by, as everything coming out of his mouth was incredibly brilliant and unprecedented. You had covered many scientific conferences, but there was something in his approach, in his ability to balance technical complexity with humanity, that kept you intrigued. Maybe it was his distinct kind of Czech accent or the way his eyes drifted to the ceiling, avoiding focusing on the crowd in front of him. He was nervous; public speaking wasn’t his forte, you immediately realized, and you found it incredibly endearing.

When he finished, the room erupted in applause. Apparently, you weren’t the only one impressed. You wasted no time and rushed toward him, dodging other attendees as if in a Mario Kart race.

"Excuse me, Mr. Viktor," you said, adjusting your glasses and catching your breath. "I’m a journalist from The Innovator's Journal. Could I have a brief interview?"

Viktor turned toward you, assessing you with a probing gaze.

You met his eyes with a faint smile, your long lashes fluttering in a cautious flirtation. Subtle non-verbal manipulations you had learned over your career, because journalism wasn’t an easy job, especially not for women. Sometimes, you had to make use of certain physical attributes to draw the attention of interview subjects.

But Viktor didn’t react the way others did. He didn’t look beyond your face.

"For The Innovator’s Journal?" he asked, his accent soft yet distinct. You nodded, mesmerized, and he seemed to consider your request. "I generally don’t accept impromptu interviews, but you seem... determined."

You took a step closer, but without fully invading his personal space, just enough to better perceive his scent. His fragrance was an esoteric, almost magical blend—soft yet noticeable. If stars had a scent, it would surely smell like him.

"I know how to seize opportunities when I see them," you replied with a sharp smile, not fully showing your teeth, as if toying with the possibilities.

A flicker of what seemed like amusement crossed his gaze before he nodded.

"Five minutes," he said, leading you to a quieter corner.

You blinked quickly, not expecting such an ultimatum. However, you didn’t keep him waiting and pulled out your recorder. Clearing your throat to keep your voice steady, you began.

"Your research has been described as a bridge between biotechnology and humanity. Is that what you’re aiming for?"

Viktor slightly tilted his head, as if finding the question deeper than expected.

"I seek to close the gaps," he responded calmly. "Between human abilities and the opportunities that technology offers."

"But some critics argue that it could make people too dependent on machines. How do you respond to that?"

You were known for being controversial; you liked pushing people to their limits. You loved seeing their reactions and enjoyed tense environments. Maybe it was a bit machiavellian, but you didn’t mind, you saw it as part of your job.

His eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but because he was thinking carefully.

"Dependency isn’t the problem, but how we use what we create. Tools are an extension of our abilities, not a replacement."

He knew what he was doing. He had answered with careful words—if he weren’t a scientist, he’d have had a brilliant career in politics. His response was decisive, but you were expecting more, so you decided to take a risk with something more personal.

"And you? How do you see yourself on this bridge between humanity and technology?"

You asked it clearly regarding his physical disability, as he still walked with a cane and hadn’t implanted one of his much-publicized smart prosthetics.

He paused for a moment before answering. His gaze drifted slightly to the room before returning to you.

"I suppose I’m someone who walks that bridge carefully. It’s a fragile balance, but it’s necessary."

The way his words resonated, heavy with a sort of melancholy, made you forget, for a moment, that you were supposed to be the journalist. There was something more to him, something not easily revealed.

When you finished, you stored your recorder and dared to smile at him again, this time without ulterior motives—a genuine smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Viktor. It was a fascinating conversation," you said, tempted to add that he was equally fascinating, but you refrained.

You didn’t want to scare him off. Viktor seemed like the type of man who didn’t have much female contact, you could easily tell by his physical discomfort. When he spoke with you, his body was tense, and he didn’t gesticulate much. He seemed more like a robot than a person.

"A pleasure, Miss," he responded with a slight nod.

There was a brief silence before you decided to take the next step.

"I must admit, I’m not only intrigued by your work but by you as well. Would you like to continue this conversation over dinner?"

You felt your heart race when that question escaped your lips. You hoped you hadn’t scared him off. It was the first time in a long while that a man had caught your attention so intensely.

For a moment, Viktor seemed surprised. Then, his expression softened, though still laden with reservation.

"I don’t usually accept those types of invitations," he admitted, though his tone didn’t sound too convincing.

That wasn’t a rejection, at least not a definitive one. He was evaluating you. Clearly, he didn’t trust you yet. You adapted to the situation and played his game. You weren’t going to let such a man slip away so easily.

"And I don’t usually make them. Few things capture my attention enough to take such a risk. You see, Mr. Viktor, I’m not easily impressed," you replied, maintaining a confident gaze.

His lips curved just slightly into a smile, a kind of wry smirk that was impossible to read.

Viktor was an enigma you were dying to decode.

"In that case, I’ll accept. After all, curiosity is a virtue," he handed you his personal card with all his contact details, practically leaving everything in your hands, giving you the final word.

Your heart skipped another beat, and as you watched him leave, you knew that conversation was just the beginning. Oh, and you couldn’t wait to see what was coming next.

Viktor decided to go for one of his typical nightly walks after escaping that room filled with important names and fake smiles. Fortunately, he managed to slip away before getting caught up in that pathetic charade. Viktor despised those events; the so-called "scientists" who attended seemed more interested in taking pictures with him than in seriously discussing their projects. They didn’t care about science. In fact, Viktor often doubted whether they had ever opened a quantum physics book in their lives.

The sound of Viktor's footsteps echoed softly on the deserted sidewalk. It was one of those quiet nights when the city lights seemed to dissolve into the horizon, and the stars began to shine brightly. The calmness centered him, pulling him away from daily worries. During these moments, he could reflect on his research progress but also on the purpose science gave him. Sometimes, when the air was fresh and clear, he allowed himself to think of something more personal.

The conversations from that day at the conference still lingered in his mind. Her. The journalist he had spoken to after his presentation. There was something about her that had unsettled him: her sharp curiosity, her direct way of asking questions, and, most of all, the way she wasn’t afraid to challenge him. That had left him pondering. After so many years in the academic and scientific world, it was rare for someone to go beyond technical topics and ask him something more personal. But she had done just that.

A sigh escaped his lips as he looked up at the starry sky. The stillness of the universe, the precision of planetary orbits—all of it seemed to have a purpose. But in his own life, everything was in constant flux. After the interview, she had asked him out. It had been unexpected, but Viktor couldn’t help feeling intrigued. The sensation of uncertainty and anticipation kept him on edge as he walked through the nearby park.

The sound of a message interrupted his thoughts. He pulled out his phone, still gazing at the stars, and saw a LinkedIn notification: a connection request from her. Something in his stomach flipped. What was she expecting from him? A deeper conversation, perhaps? It was a world of unknowns. Viktor wasn’t someone who let curiosity drive him, but there was something about this woman—something about her intellect—that kept him captivated.

One step at a time, he thought, as he accepted the request, not really knowing what to expect from it.

Three days later, in the cozy restaurant where they had agreed to meet, Viktor couldn’t stop rehearsing the words he had mentally prepared. This wasn’t the kind of social situation he excelled at; the conference had been easier, more technical. But now, sitting across from you, there was something that made him feel vulnerable. It wasn’t just his work at stake.

You arrived on time. He watched you as you walked through the restaurant door. The warm light from the lamps highlighted your face, but what immediately caught his attention was the way you walked: confident, yet with a seriousness that belied any facade of superficiality. He had seen you in your role as a journalist, but now, here, he couldn’t help but feel disoriented by your presence.

"Are you nervous?" you asked with a slight smile, noticing the small drops of sweat on his forehead.

"No, just... thoughtful," Viktor replied, more out of habit than sincerity.

The conversation began with that slight tug of awkwardness, something he had already anticipated.

You both took a seat, and after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, you started asking him questions about his research, careful to use a tone that indicated you weren’t just interested in professional matters.

“Why did you choose biotechnology, Viktor? It’s not an easy or straightforward discipline.” It was the first time you addressed him informally, and it seemed to please him because you noticed his shoulders relaxed.

Viktor studied your face more closely. In your gaze, there wasn’t just curiosity but genuine interest. Finally, he could see that you weren’t merely seeking more information for your work but something more.

“It’s a way to try to surpass my own limits. Since I was a child, I’ve been obsessed with the idea that the human body can be improved, even when physical limitations seem insurmountable,” he said, his words tinged with vulnerability. He looked at you and felt satisfied seeing you listening intently. “At some point, I realized I wasn’t just trying to improve my body but others’ as well.”

You didn’t look at him as a distant scientist but as someone who had dedicated his life to a cause. The sincerity in his words struck you unexpectedly.

“But what happens when science becomes too big? When humanity is lost in the process?”

Viktor paused. That was the question he feared most, yet you had posed it with a disarming naturalness.

“That’s what I try to avoid,” he replied, almost in a whisper. “Science should serve humanity, not dominate it. But sometimes... the path forward is uncertain.”

At that moment, the air between you grew tense. Viktor’s universe, which until then had been filled with cold equations and formulas, seemed to crumble a little before you, as if everything he had built was only a reflection of his own insecurities.

The waiter brought the food, but neither of you seemed to notice.

“I’m surprised by how open you are about this. Most people with physical disabilities are quite reserved when it comes to their condition,” you said sincerely, trying to lighten the moment, though the seriousness of the conversation lingered.

“The truth is... no one’s ever asked me before,” he admitted, unable to suppress the faint smile that formed on his lips.

You continued to observe him, this time with more depth, more intensity.

“I think that’s what draws me to your work, Viktor. It’s not just the science; it’s the way you constantly question yourself. It’s as if you’re searching for something more than just solutions.” You were fascinated, and you weren’t afraid to show it.

There was a silence—the kind of silence that invites something more. Viktor pondered how to explain himself.

“The search for answers never ends. And sometimes... that’s all you have.”

You smiled, amused. Conversations with him were always unpredictable. You glanced around the room, noting the soft lighting, the dancing shadows on the walls, the distant murmur of other diners… It all faded when Viktor spoke. Every word that left his mouth seemed designed to disarm you, to subtly but directly pull you out of your comfort zone—a remarkable feat for a journalist like you.

“So, what drives you to follow this path?” you asked, your voice soft but loaded with genuine interest, studying every reaction Viktor gave. With each new sentence, you sought to challenge him, wanting more than his opinion—something beyond his scientific facade.

Viktor looked at you over his glass of wine, his gaze more cautious than he would have liked to admit. The way you were interested in his words was unusual. Most people saw his research as mere achievements or theories. But you saw him—the person, the man behind the genius.

“It’s not just about science,” Viktor replied, but his voice sounded less sure than he had hoped. Something in the air between you unsettled him. There was something in the way you looked at him, with an intensity that made him feel exposed. “It’s about changing the rules, about finding what... what others don’t see.”

You smiled, but not kindly. There was a glint of amusement in your eyes, playing a game only you seemed to know.

“And what do you see, Viktor?” you asked provocatively, your lips curving with mischief. It wasn’t just a simple question. Every word you spoke was a touch, a brush, something that pushed him to let you see more, to say more than he was willing to reveal.

Viktor felt trapped in your gaze but couldn’t look away. Something about you stirred the need to talk, to expose his vulnerability. The tension was palpable; each new interaction seemed like another step in an invisible dance.

“I see a world full of possibilities…” he replied, more by instinct than reflection. He was far from his scientific research, from the cold and calculated equations. Here, there were no formulas he could apply. It was just you and him—and a chemistry as tangible as the air surrounding you.

You let your eyes slowly glide over him as if evaluating every facet of his being, every word, every gesture. It was a silent analysis, one you didn’t bother hiding. Viktor could feel himself being drawn into your scrutiny.

“Is that all you see?” you whispered, leaning slightly closer to the table, keeping your eyes fixed on his, determined to unravel his mask of control. “I think there’s more, something you haven’t said.”

The air between you thickened. Viktor swallowed hard, feeling his heart beat faster than usual. You had hit the mark, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to continue this conversation—not with the way you were looking at him now, like a predator stalking its prey.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice lower than usual, though something in his eyes glimmered with more than doubt—there was something urging him to let go.

Without missing a beat, you picked up your wine glass and, in a motion so smooth it seemed casual, brought it to your lips, looking at him over the rim. You said nothing, but Viktor understood the silent invitation. The chemistry was there between you, dense and palpable. The brush of your lips, the way your fingers grazed the glass… Everything was a subtle provocation, a game neither of you was willing to lose.

Viktor leaned slightly forward, letting the distance between you shrink. His breath hitched for a moment, and when he spoke, his tone was low—so intimate it almost felt like a confession.

“I’m not a man who lets himself go…” he said, but his words didn’t convince even himself. He was caught in the current of what was happening, in the tension woven between your bodies.

“Are you sure?” You raised an eyebrow, your demeanor now a little more challenging. Your voice carried a subtle provocation but didn’t lose the softness that characterized your way of speaking.

You were a challenge, and Viktor, though he denied it, was more than willing to accept it—to accept you.

The conversation veered into more personal matters, and as it did, the words became softer, closer, as if the two of you were walking a fine line between professional and intimate. Viktor realized that every phrase that left your lips not only challenged him intellectually but also disarmed him emotionally.

Time flew by, and when dessert arrived, both of you knew the night was far from over. Viktor was restless, but in a way unfamiliar to him.

You, on the other hand, enjoyed your effect on him. It was so amusing to see how he held his breath when you 'accidentally' grazed his right leg with your heel under the table. The way the corners of his mouth trembled, creating a slight pout, as if silently asking for more. You found yourself in total surrender—if that man asked for the moon, you'd head to space to fetch it for him. But, of course, you wouldn't let him know that. Not yet.

At the end of the dinner, after talking about everything and nothing, Viktor leaned forward, looking at you with an expression that, for the first time that night, showed a mix of determination and something else... something unsettling.

"Would you like to come to my place?" he asked, his voice now firm, though tinged with a touch of uncertainty. There was something in his words that made him more vulnerable, as if he needed this connection, this closeness.

And you couldn’t help but feel the same.

"I’d love to," you replied, and your confirmation hit Viktor like a direct blow to the heart.

It was clear: the night had only just begun.

Viktor's house was exactly what you expected from him: minimalist, functional, almost austere in its decoration. Yet, there was something incredibly cozy about the way everything was arranged. The dim lighting, the soft classical music playing in the background, the faint aroma of incense that filled the air... Everything was meticulously designed to soothe, to find the balance he so clearly sought.

The atmosphere was perfect, but you couldn't help but feel that the air was heavy, charged with something more than just the fragrance of the incense. It was as if Viktor's home itself reflected the inner struggle he carried: orderly, precise, but so, so empty.

Viktor watched as your eyes scanned his home with a mix of curiosity and caution. In your gaze, there was something he couldn’t quite read—an air of control and, at the same time, total vulnerability. It was obvious he wasn’t used to showing his private life, but he said nothing.

As usual, you broke the silence first. You approached the living room table, lightly touching the polished wooden surface, your fingers brushing against the objects decorating it.

"You have an… interesting house," you commented in a tone that could be interpreted as sarcastic. You wanted to tease him.

Viktor glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, a slight hint of discomfort visible on his face.

"I don’t like distractions," he replied curtly, but the look he gave you was more complex. A hint of something hidden beneath the surface, something he wasn’t ready to share.

You didn’t bother to insist. Instead, you turned toward him, and before Viktor could react, you stepped forward, eagerly. Every step you took felt as if you were crossing an invisible boundary, challenging every rule Viktor had built for himself. You wanted to push him to his limits, to shatter his perfect facade, to strip him bare in both body and soul.

"I think distractions are necessary sometimes," you murmured slowly and sensually, your tone laden with subtext Viktor immediately recognized.

He stood frozen, unable to look away. Something in your voice disarmed him, something in your presence made him want to open up in a way he wasn’t accustomed to. And yet, he couldn’t resist it.

"And what kind of distraction do you have in mind?" His voice came out deeper than he had intended, with a hint of unease he couldn’t disguise.

Your tongue traced the edges of your lips slowly, not quite touching your lipstick, just teasing, just enough to draw his attention to your mouth. When you succeeded, you smirked wickedly.

Viktor swallowed hard, unconsciously licking his own lips, an involuntary, clumsy act that left him defenseless against you.

"How about a conversation without filters?" you suggested, your voice almost a whisper.

Your fingers moved closer to his chest, gently brushing the lapel of his jacket, exploring every inch of his form with your eyes before deciding whether to touch or not, like a soldier in unknown territory. Viktor swallowed with difficulty, feeling his body respond to that simple touch, that closeness he hadn’t anticipated.

You didn’t back away for a moment, keeping eye contact with him while your fingers still toyed with the fabric of his clothes. Viktor felt a weight in his chest, not just from the tension of the moment, but from the need to step away, to stop letting you control him this way. Yet, something in him didn’t want you to stop.

"What I want, Viktor..." you began, your voice a whisper charged with a confidence that unsettled him, "...is for you to show me who you really are. Not the genius everyone knows, not the scientific leader everyone respects. Just you. The man behind it all. Show me the real you."

Viktor took a deep breath, feeling those words cut deep. He had never allowed anyone to see him that way. He had never let anyone get this close. And yet, here you were, making him feel like it was impossible not to open up to you. Like it was impossible to deny the need to surrender, even for a moment, to something beyond science, beyond reason.

You moved even closer, your lips just a few centimeters from his. The distance was minimal but enough to make the tension between you almost unbearable. Your breaths mingled, and Viktor could feel the heat emanating from you, the palpable desire surrounding you both.

"And if I don’t want you to see that?" His voice was low but defiant, as if trying to protect himself from something he knew, deep down, he could no longer avoid.

You found yourself smiling again, but this time it wasn’t a playful smile. It was a smile of understanding because you had confirmed your suspicions.

Viktor was afraid of connecting with someone. Maybe he didn’t even know how to do it; maybe he never had and had always convinced himself he didn’t need to—that with his machines and equations, he would have enough.

"Then why am I here?" you asked, not moving back even a millimeter.

For a brief moment, Viktor felt trapped. He couldn’t lie, couldn’t keep his distance. Something inside him wanted to give in, wanted to feel vulnerable, for once, without the weight of perfection he imposed on himself.

"Because..." he began, but his words faded into the air when you pulled him toward you, your lips brushing lightly against his. It was a fleeting touch, so brief that Viktor barely had time to process it, but it left him trembling, gripping his cane tighter as he felt he might lose his balance.

You looked into his eyes, waiting for a reaction, any kind of response, some indicator, a confirmation, anything. Viktor stood there, motionless, but his thoughts were a whirlwind. The strength he had resisted with all night dissolved in that contact, and for the first time, he felt the raw, real desire to embrace vulnerability. To let go.

Without a word, Viktor kissed you. At first, it was slow, cautious, and clumsy, as if testing the waters, afraid of diving too quickly. But you weren’t interested in caution; you pulled him into you, craving more contact, more friction, more intimacy...

Your tongue made its way into his mouth, tracing his front teeth and laughing in his face when you heard him sigh in surprise. Your hands traveled to the back of his neck and you took complete control. You devoured him. You sucked and bit as you went. You ate up all his moans and swallowed him greedily.

When you separated, you both breathed heavily. Viktor, his mind clouded by desire, felt a strange sense of lightness. For a moment, the scientist in him had completely disappeared. You didn't waste his moment of confusion and pushed him onto the couch behind him. Viktor fell awkwardly and humiliatingly, his cane had fallen to the floor, and his long, weak legs were spread wide. His brown hair was messy, and his eyes were as wide as they were bright.

You smiled, he looked ready to be devoured. You took a step and raised your foot on the furniture, placing it right in front of Viktor's crotch. You bent your torso and appreciated his blush up close.

"Don't think about it too much, Viktor. Just... let yourself go. Let me take care of you. Can you do that?" you asked, taking him by his thin chin, he nodded slowly and shakily, like a lamb at the mercy of a wolf, and the truth is that metaphor was not so far from reality.

He's not used to relinquishing control, but in this moment, he finds himself craving it. Craving you. And you noticed it, you noticed his desire, his wish to lose himself in you, so you were going to give him your best. You wanted to make him feel good. Really good.

"Oh, aren't you a pretty boy?," you said, pressing the sharp tip of your heel into his cock. Viktor inhales sharply, his hips bucking instinctively into your touch, he was like a hungry puppy. A strangled moan escapes his lips, his eyes fluttering closed at the sudden surge of pleasure-pain. "So obedient and willing to help, to give his best, as always."

He flushes at your teasing words, a mix of embarrassment and arousal coloring his pale skin. Viktor's not used to being called sweet or pretty, least of all in a situation like this. But the way you say it, with that wicked gleam in your eyes and that smirk on your lips... it makes him want to be those things. For you.

Humming softly, he reaches up to cover your hand on his chin with his own, guiding it to his chest. His heartbeat is rapid and strong beneath your palm, a silent testament to his desire. "I am not... accustomed to such directness", he admits, his voice rough with need. "But I find myself appreciating it." Viktor's other hand comes to rest on your calf. It's a tentative touch, almost hesitant, but unmistakably eager.

His broken voice. His defeated expression. The way his hand caressed your leg, so sweet yet so hard. It was too much. You needed to please him as soon as possible.

"You're so cute," you had to bite your lip to keep from cursing, "Can I eat you?"

Viktor's eyes widen at your bold question, a wave of heat rushing to his cheeks and other more sensitive areas. He's not used to such crude, direct language, especially not from someone as cool and collected as you show to be. It catches him off guard and sets his heart racing.

As you kneels down in front of him, Viktor's breath hitches in his throat. He looks down at you, his amber eyes searching your face for any hint of jest or deception. But he finds none. Only a hunger that matches his own, a desire that makes his stomach flip and his mouth go dry.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Viktor nods. His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, his words almost lost amidst the pounding of his own heartbeat. "I... I would like that. Very much," he swallows hard, his tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips.

Viktor's hands come to rest on the couch beside him, gripping the fabric tightly. He's not sure what to do with himself, how to act in this new role of his. All he knows is that he wants you, wants your touch, wants your everything. And so, with a deep breath, he spreads his legs a little wider, a silent invitation.

"Can I take off your pants?" you knew you didn't need to ask, it was more than obvious that you both wanted to. But your goal was to enjoy this new facet of Viktor, you were liking this tender and submissive Viktor a little bit too much.

Viktor feels is heart pounding in his chest as he stares down at you kneeling before him. The sight sends a jolt of anticipation and arousal through his body, his cock throbbing almost painfully against the confines of his pants.

With a shaky nod, Viktor lifts his hips slightly, allowing you to slip your fingers under the waistband of his pants. His breath catches in his throat as you start to tug them down, inch by torturous inch. The cool air of the house hits his skin, making him shiver and his member twitch. Once his pants and underwear are off, Viktor sits bare before you, his legs splayed out and his arousal evident. He resists the urge to cover up, forcing himself to stay still and let you appreciate him. His cheeks burn with embarrassment and desire, his chest heaving with each ragged breath.

"You're even prettier down here," your compliment makes him choke on his saliva.

The way you look at him, with your eyes roaming hungrily over every inch of his exposed flesh... it makes him feel powerful. Desired. Needed. And Viktor has never felt needed.

He squirms slightly under your intense scrutiny, his cock jumping at the slightest brush of your fingertips against his thigh. Viktor's voice is low and rough when he speaks, his words laced with need. 

"I am glad you find me pleasing. I must admit, I have never been inspected quite so... thoroughly before," his lips twitch into a tentative smile, his eyes darkened with desire as they meet yours.

Well, that was a new side. A sassy and naughty one. And you loved it even more.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Viktor reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. He was so sweet, you wanted to hug him and never let him go.

His fingers linger on your cheek, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw and the soft swell of your lower lip.

It was impossible for you not to smile with tenderness, you let your face rest on his thin hand. Then you looked him straight in the eyes, your desire to tease him never completely went away.

"It's so funny how you keep using your fancy talk despite being in this situation," you had to comment, and as expected, the blush returned to his cheeks. Adorable. "Here, take my hair."

Your request was very unexpected.

Viktor blinks in momentary confusion as you hands him your long hair, unsure of your intentions. But as your warm breath ghosts over his sensitive flesh, he quickly forgets his bewilderment, replaced by a surge of anticipation.

He takes the silky strands in his hand, marveling at the weight of them, the way they slip through his fingers. Viktor's heart races as you lean in, your lips parting to reveal the wet heat of your mouth.

And then, you takes him. All of him. Viktor's head falls back against the couch, a strangled moan tearing from his throat as your lips seal around his throbbing cock. The sensation is incredible, unlike anything he's ever felt before. Your tongue swirls around his length, exploring every ridge and vein with a curiosity that borders on reverence.

Viktor's grip tightens on your hair as he fights the urge to thrust into the wet heat of your mouth. He was so overwhelmed, so consumed by sensation. It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

His breath comes in short, sharp gasps as you works over his cock, your head bobbing up and down in a steady rhythm. Viktor's never been more grateful for his weakness, for the way his leg keeps him rooted to the spot, unable to move anything but his hips in shallow, aborted thrusts.

You looked at him without stopping sucking at any time, you were hungry for him. You loved seeing him so vulnerable and so pleased by you. In fact, you wanted to give him more pleasure, you wanted to take him to paradise and bring him back.

Viktor's eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused as he stares down at you. The sight of you, so hungry and eager, your lips stretched around his throbbing flesh... was almost too much to bear. His breath comes in harsh, ragged pants as you continues your assault, your tongue and lips and the wet, sucking heat of your mouth pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Viktor's fingers tighten almost painfully in your hair, his hips jerking and stuttering as he fights the urge to lose himself completely.

Your eyes meet his, intense and filled with a passion that makes his heart race.

His balls draw up tight, his cock pulsing and throbbing as his climax approaches, and with a pathetic cry, Viktor comes undone, his release crashing over him like a tidal wave. His cock jerks and pulses as he spills himself into your eager mouth, his fingers tightening almost cruelly in your scalp as he rides out the aftershocks of his intense orgasm.

As the waves of pleasure start to subside, Viktor slowly comes back to himself, his breathing still ragged and uneven. It takes a moment for the reality of what just happened to sink in - he just came, hard and fast, in your mouth, and you just swallowed it.

Viktor was mortified. A deep, blotchy red spread across his pale skin, creeping down his neck and pooling at his collarbone. Each shaky breath he took only seemed to fan the flames of his embarrassment. His hands, usually steady when working on intricate mechanisms, now trembled as they gripped the edge of the couch. When he tried to pull away, mumbling apologies, you stopped him gently but firmly.

Your hand stayed where it was, warm and reassuring, keeping him grounded in the present moment. “No, Viktor,” you murmured softly, your voice calm and soothing, like a balm for his raw nerves.

“I… I’m so sorry,” he stammered, his voice rough and broken. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you, his golden eyes fixed somewhere far away, as though retreating into himself might erase what had just happened. “That was… incredibly inappropriate of me. I couldn’t control myself… I couldn’t…” His voice faltered, fading into a silence heavy with shame.

Without a word, you shifted closer, carefully settling onto his lap. Your presence made him tense at first, but as your warmth seeped into him, you felt his rigid posture begin to soften.

Viktor swallowed hard, his lips trembling as he tried to continue. “I feel so selfish,” he admitted in a hoarse whisper. “I couldn’t hold back… and I couldn’t… I couldn’t give you anything in return. I didn’t—” His words broke off, and he turned his head, as if hiding from you might shield him from his own insecurities. “I’m pathetic.”

Your heart ached at his confession. It wasn’t just his words—it was the weight they carried, the insecurities and self-doubt that had clearly plagued him for years. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug that was firm but full of tenderness, as if trying to hold all the broken pieces of him together.

Your fingers found their way to his messy hair, threading through the soft strands with care. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling back slightly to cradle his face in your hands. His cheeks were still flushed, and his expression was a mix of embarrassment and surprise, but he didn’t resist.

“Viktor,” you said gently, your tone low but filled with conviction. “Look at me.”

He hesitated, his golden eyes darting nervously before finally meeting yours. They were full of hesitation, as if he were bracing himself for judgment. But all he found in your gaze was warmth.

“Do I look like someone who’s disappointed?” you asked, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Before he could stammer out a response, you continued, your thumbs brushing lightly across his cheeks. “This was our first time trying something like this. It’s normal that it was so… intense. It’s a natural reaction, Viktor, and nothing to feel ashamed of.”

He blinked at you, his confusion evident, but you weren’t done yet. A playful glint sparkled in your eyes as you leaned in slightly closer. “And if I’m being honest,” you added, your voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper, “I enjoyed every second of it. I’ve been fantasizing about moments like this since the day I met you.”

The way his eyes widened and his blush deepened was almost enough to make you laugh. But instead, you smiled softly, leaning in to brush your lips lightly against his ear. “Besides,” you whispered, your tone teasing but full of affection, “this is only the beginning, pretty boy. We’ve got plenty of time for moments like this.”

His breath hitched at the nickname, and for a moment, he looked completely disarmed. He nodded slowly, his embarrassment still evident, but there was a flicker of trust in his gaze now.

It was then that you noticed the exhaustion etched into his features—the dark circles under his eyes, the slump of his shoulders. It was obvious that he had been working tirelessly, likely pushing himself past his limits, as he always did and confessed to you. And now, after everything that had just happened, the tiredness seemed to weigh on him even more.

“Do you want to cuddle tonight?” you asked casually, though your tone was laced with affection. You already knew the answer. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and he needed rest.

Viktor looked at you, his expression softening into something that resembled gratitude. “Yes… please,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Without another word, you guided him to lie down with you, pulling him close until his head rested against your chest. His arms hesitated at first before wrapping around your waist tentatively, and you could feel the tension slowly melting away from his body.

As you ran your fingers through his hair and whispered soft reassurances, you felt his breathing slow, syncing with yours. He sighed softly, his entire body relaxing in your embrace. In that quiet, intimate moment, you felt a wave of protectiveness wash over you.

Holding him like this, you silently promised yourself that you would always be there for him. To remind him that he didn’t have to face his insecurities alone, that he didn’t have to be perfect to be loved. He was enough—just as he was. And as he drifted off to sleep, you knew he felt it too.

The first rays of dawn began to filter through the windows of Viktor's home. The atmosphere, which had been warm and charged with intensity, was now tinged with a calmer, more reflective silence.

Both of you lay together on the sofa, your bodies entwined and your breaths synchronized. Viktor rested against you, his face buried in your hair, his fingers tracing abstract patterns along your back as if trying to memorize every detail of this moment.

"I never thought..." he began, his voice barely above a whisper.

You lifted your head to look at him, the light in his eyes still a mix of disbelief and tenderness.

"Never thought what?" you asked softly, your fingers brushing against his jawline.

"I never thought I’d need this as much as I do now." His confession was simple yet heavy with meaning. His barriers had fallen, at least with you, and you both understood the weight of that.

You smiled, feeling how deeply those words resonated within you. There was something profoundly beautiful about seeing someone like Viktor—so used to solitude and sacrifice—allow himself this kind of vulnerability.

"We all need something, Viktor. Even you." Your tone was gentle but firm, making it clear you wouldn’t let him retreat behind his mask of self-reliance again.

Viktor nodded but said nothing more. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and steady. It was a simple gesture but full of quiet affection, a language you were both beginning to understand.

As the hours passed, you talked about mundane and profound things, from his advancements to favorite books. The walls of Viktor’s home, which had once felt so empty, now carried an unexpected warmth—a spark neither of you was willing to extinguish.

Before you left, Viktor reached for your hand, his grip gentle but firm.

"I don’t know how to fit this into my life… with you," he admitted. His words were sincere, almost fearful, but his gaze said something else: he wanted to try, and for the first time, he was willing to open that door.

You looked at him, and with a calm smile, you squeezed his hand.

"You don’t have to figure it all out right now. Just… don’t close the door before seeing what’s on the other side."

And with that, you left his house, though not without one last look that spoke more than words ever could.

[sammycutiepie]

arcane characters in an alternative universe

writer's note: hello guys... so i have been sooo obsessed with this idea since i finished season 2 and i wanted to share it with the world, hope u guys like itttt. also i'll probably continue this as a series, so be free to give any feedback or ask for suggestions ☆

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

Viktor

job: viktor is a renowned scientist specializing in artificial intelligence and robotics, highly recognized for his research in biotechnology. he's also a guest lecturer and a leader in technological innovation.

hobbies: he would enjoy scientific documentaries, philosophical readings, and stargazing. viktor would take nighttime walks to gaze at the stars and ponder the universe's mysteries. he might also love solving intricate puzzles and sudoku, always seeking intellectual challenges.

social media: on linkedIn, viktor would share articles about his scientific breakthroughs and collaborations in the field of biotechnology. on Instagram, he would keep a low profile but occasionally post pictures of his lab or progress in his research. from time to time, he might upload a story featuring his dog or a visit to the park for some mental clarity.

music: he enjoys classical music and electronic instrumental pieces, a blend of avant-garde with a touch of nostalgia. pianists like ludovico einaudi or experimental electronic composers like amon tobin would be to his liking.

favorite food: viktor enjoys simple yet comforting meals. he loves complex soups like spicy ramen or handmade italian pasta. everything must be fresh and minimally processed.

lifestyle: he would live in a minimalist, functional apartment equipped with advanced technology tailored to his health needs. viktor would maintain a strict exercise routine to manage his condition but remain private about his life. he’d find solace in a structured routine of rest and meditation.

how you’d meet: you would meet him as a journalist interviewing him at a scientific event where he’s presenting his research. your curiosity and sharp questions would surprise him, and although he’s initially reserved, he ends up revealing more of himself. after the interview, you ask him out on a date, intrigued by his worldview and genius. the encounter would be tense yet captivating, and the chemistry would be immediate.

Jinx

job: jinx would be an influencer and video game streamer, but with a unique twist: she creates explosive content, featuring “experiments” and pranks infused with rebellion and subversion. her personal brand is chaos and limitless creativity.

hobbies: jinx would be highly creative, loving visual arts, graffiti, and digital art. she's an avid gamer, drawn to chaotic, open-world games filled with action and unpredictability. another hobby could involve collecting rare or unusual items, filling her space with eclectic and seemingly nonsensical objects.

social media: jinx would totally dominate platforms like tiktok and instagram, posting chaotic videos, bizarre memes, and unpredictable content. she also has a twitch channel to stream her wild activities, like creating art or "breaking things" on live. her followers would never know what to expect, as she loves to surprise them.

music: jinx is a fan of punk and electronic music. bands like the clash and die antwoord resonate with her rebellious spirit. she loves loud, energetic music, perfect for maintaining her high adrenaline levels.

favorite food: she loves fast food, but not just any fast food—the more eccentric, the better. a xxl burrito loaded with sauces or a hot dog with wild toppings are her favorites, and of course, sweet things, she would eat crumble cookies for breakfast almost everyday.

lifestyle: jinx’s life would be messy and disorganized, likely living in an apartment full of creative chaos where her imagination runs wild. she’d be constantly on the move, rarely staying in one place for long due to her restless nature.

how you’d meet: you first caught jinx’s attention through your positive comments and donations in her streams. at a fan event, when it was your turn, you introduced yourself as the one who had been supporting her content and suggested a collaboration, since you were a new streamer. to your surprise, jinx agreed right away, leading you to her manager, and winked at you before the event continued.

Vi

job: vi would be a personal trainer at a gym where high-profile personalities often train. she’s both physically and emotionally strong, helping others unleash their own power.

hobbies: vi would love contact sports like boxing and gym training. she might also enjoy martial arts. her loyalty would make her eager to reconnect with old friends or spend time with family whenever possible.

social media: vi might have an instagram profile focused on her active lifestyle and workout. she’d post photos from her daily routines and some snapshots with friends. she will definitely have a twitter account for direct, unfiltered takes on societal issues.

music: she likes classic rock and some hip-hop to keep her energy high while working out. the rolling stones and eminem would be among her favorites.

favorite food: vi enjoys healthy, energy-boosting foods like fresh quinoa salads and protein shakes. occasionally, she indulges in organic beef burgers, but her diet is generally balanced.

lifestyle: vi would live in a modest yet cozy space, likely in a less glamorous area. her home would reflect her rough-and-tumble nature, surrounded by people from her community. it would serve as a personal sanctuary amidst the chaos of her life.

how you’d meet: you’d meet vi as your personal trainer at the gym. as an actress just starting out, you needed to build a stronger physique for an upcoming role, and vi was the perfect fit. she saw your dedication, but also noticed that there was more to you than just physical strength. you understood discipline, but you also had moments where you needed emotional space to breathe, something she admired. vi, with her no-nonsense attitude, would push you to your limits, but also knew when to slow down and listen. through the intensity of the workouts, you'd both find a deep connection, bonding over your shared past struggles.

Caitlyn

job: caitlyn would be a lawyer specializing in civil rights and public defense, with a progressive agenda promoting social justice. she also has a strong influence on local policies, fighting for equity in underprivileged communities.

hobbies: caitlyn would enjoy outdoor sports like hiking or horseback riding, appreciating nature in her spare time. she also attend high-profile events or collect art. she’d value the company of intelligent people and cherish dinners with friends who share her worldview.

social media: caitlyn would have a professional presence on linkedIn and twitter, sharing insights about legal topics, public policies, and social justice. on Instagram, she might showcase her life as a high-profile attorney, attending events and offering glimpses of her personal life while maintaining a polished image.

music: her musical taste is varied, from classical composers like chopin to contemporary pop. however, she most enjoys music that helps her unwind after a stressful day at work.

favorite food: she loves gourmet dishes, especially mediterranean cuisine. she’s a fan of fresh salads with tuna, tabbouleh, and balsamic vinaigrette, but she also enjoys the trendy haute cuisine dishes.

lifestyle: caitlyn would reside in a chic, modern apartment in an upscale neighborhood, blending minimalism with sophistication. her structured life would revolve around work, with her social life carefully curated to complement her professional image.

how you’d meet: you’d meet as a client seeking her help with after getting a divorce with your ex husband. caitlyn, impressed by your intelligence and determination, decides to support you beyond the professional consultation. from there, a deep connection based on trust and mutual respect would begin to flourish.

Jayce

job: jayce would be a lead engineer at a renewable technology company, focused on creating sustainable devices that revolutionize the world. his charisma and passion would make him a regular at innovation conferences, where he inspires young inventors.

hobbies: jayce is passionate about outdoor sports, especially running and cycling. he enjoys being active, both to keep his body fit and to clear his mind. he also enjoys collecting tech gadgets and experimenting with new tools for his company.

social media: jayce is active on twitter, where he shares news about technological advancements, as well as his thoughts on the social impact of science. he also has an instagram, where he posts pictures of his outdoor expeditions and tech events, showing a more human and accessible side.

music: jayce has a diverse playlist that combines artists like imagine dragons, the weeknd, and 80s classics like journey. In his calm moments, he might listen to hans zimmer to relax with something epic and motivational.

favorite food: he loves italian food, especially homemade lasagna, but he also has a taste for desserts like tiramisu or a good cheesecake.

lifestyle: jayce would live in a modern loft with large windows and lots of natural light. his home would reflect his success and sense of style, with built-in technology that makes his day-to-day life easier. he likes to keep the space immaculate, but without making it feel too stark.

how you’d met: you met jayce at the launch event of a new tech device. you had come along with a friend but ended up having a passionate debate about potential flaws in the prototype jayce was presenting. rather than getting upset, he was impressed by your insights and invited you behind the scenes to discuss further. that interaction sparked a connection, both personal and professional, he even asked for your number.

Ekko

job: ekko's a young entrepreneur who runs a community workshop in a disadvantaged neighborhood, where he teaches children how to build gadgets and repair things. he also has a startup that creates accessible technological solutions.

hobbies: ekko loves skateboarding, painting murals with social messages, and designing gadgets in his free time. he likes to play video games and explore new virtual worlds.

social media: on instagram, ekko would share photos of his murals, videos of his skateboarding tricks, and technological projects. he would have a youtube channel where he teaches how to build things from scratch and shares ideas for social impact.

music: his playlist would include artists like childish gambino, tyler, the creator, and indie bands like gorillaz. he enjoys lo-fi and chill beats while working.

favorite food: he prefers street food, like tacos al pastor or gourmet hot dogs, valuing its connection to the community and the convenience of grabbing a quick bite to eat while he's busy.

lifestyle: ekko lives in a loft filled with tools, street art, and unfinished gadgets. although his life may seem chaotic, he finds a sense of order within his creative space.

how you’d met: you met ekko at an urban festival where he was showcasing skateboarding and street art. you approached him to ask about his mural, and he ended up telling you the story behind the design. when you mentioned your interest in social projects, he invited you to one of his community workshops. since then, art and creativity have connected you both.

Silco

job: silco is said to be the ceo of an unconventional investment firm, operating in both legal and grey areas. his presence in the business world is both feared and respected, and he's an exceptional strategist.

hobbies: silco enjoys mental games, reading philosophy, and political theory. he's so drawn to collecting rare and valuable historical objects. his strategic mind keeps him constantly occupied in finding new ways to consolidate his influence.

social media: silco doesn't have traditional social media, preferring to keep his personal life out of the public eye. however, he may be present in secret forums or private groups where he influences others' opinions. his focus is always on discretion, seeking control rather than exposure.

music: he prefers classical and jazz music, as both help him reflect on the nature of power. he likes composers such as bach and miles davis, whose music lends itself to both reflection and strategic planning.

favorite food: silco appreciates sophisticated dinners such as grilled steaks and red wine pairings, he has a taste for exotic dishes that reflect his unique style.

lifestyle: silco lives in a dark, minimalist penthouse, decorated with abstract art and exclusive pieces that reflect his reserved personality. his home is designed to be a refuge from the outside world.

how you’d met: you met silco at an exclusive art gallery, where you both seemed out of place compared to the more pretentious attendees. you made a sarcastic comment about an overly abstract piece, and silco, overhearing, couldn’t help but smile and reply with a similarly sharp remark. that initial spark led to a fascinating conversation about power, art, and ambition.

Mel

job: mel would be a high-level businesswoman, leading international consulting projects for large corporations. she's known for being a visionary in the most complicated negotiations.

hobbies: she loves collecting contemporary art and painting in her spare time. mel enjoys attending galas, cultural events, and traveling the world to discover new artists and traditions.

social media: her instagram shows her sophisticated life: exclusive events, international travel, and art in progress.

music: mel listens to contemporary jazz by artists like esperanza spalding or soul by adele, also likes the soft rhythms of sza while working or relaxing.

favorite food: she enjoys haute cuisine, especially seafood and dishes with exotic ingredients. she always accompanies her meals with a good white wine.

lifestyle: mel lives in a modern penthouse in a cosmopolitan city. her home is a mix of luxury and art, with minimalist decor that highlights her personal collection of unique pieces.

how you’d met: you met mel at a cultural retreat abroad, where both of you attended a dinner organized by a local art collector. while everyone else was engaged in small talk, you caught her attention by passionately discussing a sculpture by an emerging artist. intrigued by your perspective, she joined the conversation, and the exchange of ideas lasted all night.

Sevika

job: sevika it's a security manager at a well-known company, overseeing high-risk operations. she also has a personal business involving customizing motorcycles and tactical equipment.

hobbies: sevika do boxing, martial arts, and of course, rides her motorcycle. she enjoys billiards and hanging out at local bars with her friends.

social media: her instagram features photos of her bike, videos of her workouts, and casual moments at bars or gatherings. although, she's not very active.

music: she listens to classic rock bands like ac/dc and metallica, as well as punk groups like the clash, but she also has a softer side with occasional blues.

favorite food: she prefers home-cooked food like stews or well-made burgers, always with a craft beer on the side.

lifestyle: sevika lives in a simple but cozy apartment, with personal tools and memories. her lifestyle is practical and adapted to her need for constant movement.

how you’d met: she met you at a bar when someone was being annoying to you. she jumped in without a second thought, and it led to a deeper conversation about her life experiences. her interest grew when she saw that you weren't easily intimidated, and from there, you started hanging out.

[sammycutiepie]

Arcane characters saying things they'll regret during an argument with you. | Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Ekko, Sevika x Gn!Reader

(Part two)

Because if I can't be happy, then neither can you./j✨️

Content: Alcoholism, spoilers for season 2, heavy angst, toxic behavior, cursing, established romantic relationships, potential mentions of cheating, gaslighting/ manipulation, probably ooc idk, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VI

You hated the cycle she had trapped herself in. It was never-ending and beyond self-destructive. For a while, you tried to get her out of it by attempting to reason with her, show her the light, tell her that everything is going to be okay and to just stop with the senseless fighting. But then the heavy, out of control drinking began, and she became unrecognizable to you.

She barely spent time with you, and when she did, then it was due to an extreme hangover that you had to nurture her through before the next fight began. You were so sick of it. You couldn't take the state she was in anymore. You wanted your girlfriend back but didn't want to suffer anymore as a result of it. And so, you tried one last time to snap her out of it.

"Hey, uhm... can we talk?" You ask nervously whilst peering at her from the doorway into her room. The roaring of the crowd and indistinguishable words of the announcers buzzed over your heads, reminding you of the timelimit you had to do this right. Vi didn't turn to you and instead focused on smearing the black paint over her eyes, a dark gaze glance cast your way at your meek plea. "Make it quick. I got 10 minutes before I have to be out there again."

You took a deep breath and tried to ignore the coldness in her tone. It was so odd, so not like her. "Vi... I... I need you to stop this. I understand your pain. I really do, I... get it. But this isn't right. You're practically killing yourself here, and I can't take that anymore-" "-This topic again? I told you to fucking drop it already." She hissed with a shake of your head and something about that made you finally snap. "I care about you Vi! That's why I'm doing all of this shit for you. No one else would do as much as I did. Why can't you see that? What the hell happened to you-" Your voice was cut off by her hand slamming into a nearby wall, anger written all over her face that made you flinch away instinctively.

You had never been scared of her before and this just broke your heart further.

"Shut up! You haven't done shit for me, except for pissing me off and whining and crying about every little thing I do! How about you fuck off and leave me the hell alone instead!? The only person who ever did shit for me is Cait and look how that turned out!" Silence. Deafening silence. Except for Vi's heavy breathing. You were rendered speechless. All the years you've spent with her at her side even as children flashed through your mind, before it all stilled and went cold. Your gaze hardened, and you nodded slowly, turning away wordlessly to do as she asked. You understood now. You were always the second choice in the end.

Vi seemed to only notice that you've left once she heard her name being called from the ring above. And her heart sunk at the realisation that this time, you wouldn't be there to watch her win.

And so she didn't.

》CAITLYN

Zaun was becoming a sensitive and dangerous topic to bring up around her. Even the slightest mention of it made her face harden and earn you a dismissive hand waving all of your protests away. It also didn't help that she was pulling away from you and instead getting closer to a certain red-headed officer of hers. It was frustrating and so exhausting to deal with, on top of all the grief that hung over your heads constantly. It was driving you mad. Nothing you said got through to her.

It wasn't a secret that you disapproved of the war and the alliance with Ambessa. You could look right through her, see with a clear mind that she was up to no good. Whatever she had planned wouldn't bring either nation anything but more plight. This wasn't the right way to go about things. It wasn't humane. The people she hated were no different from you both. But she just couldn't see it the same way, her judgment clouded heavily by her need for revenge on Jinx. A singular person had shifted her perception about a whole group of people... and it was becoming suffocating. You couldn't recognize her anymore.

You were trying to find the right time to finally confront her about it fully, and thankfully, the opportunity came up one evening whilst she was going through paperwork in her office. You were pacing nervously around the room, trying to find the courage to speak your mind, but she beat you to it. "If you have something to say, then say it. I have work to do and can not be disturbed like this." She muttered, eyes focused on the sea of papers before her rather than your stilling form. Very well, she asked for it. "I... want this war to end. This isn't right."

Her hand froze before she hummed and resumed her task. "I thought we had moved on from this topic." She said calmly, not betraying how clearly irritated she was becoming. But you couldn't give up now. You'd go crazy if you did. "Caitlyn. There is no moving on from it if people are going to die as a consequence! How could you ever look away from that? Why can't you see that this is wrong? Why can't you see that Ambessa-" You stepped towards her grand desk with every word, hands coming down to push the paper she was holding away from her face. You just wanted her to finally look at you again after so long. "-Is playing with your mind!" "Enough. Don't you dare say another word."

The Kirammann stood up and towered over you, a strong hand grabbing onto your arm with a sharp shake that surprised you. Had the grief taken over her mind this badly? So much so that she couldn't see how much this was hurting you to lose her? "I demand you see reason and stop sympathizing with those treacherous animals... unless you want me to see you as one of them as well." "You think I'd betray you?" You breathed, and suddenly the realisation that you had lost her for good finally sunk in. You needed to go. Now.

Caitlyn's face sobered up at your question, yet before she could say a thing, her dear officer Nolan stepped in with a report in hand. Seeing the position you two were in, she nervously tilted her head. "Oh, my apologies, am I disturbing you-?" "-Not at all. In fact, I'm the one who's disturbing YOU. My apologies for that." Ripping your arm out of her gloved hand, you pushed past the girl and rushed out of the room.

Your girlfriend watched you disappear down the dark hallway before she straightened up and gave the officer a curt nod to go ahead with her report. But it was hard to listen to a word she was saying when Caitlyn's head was replaying the memory of your teary, heartbroken eyes over and over again.

》JINX

She didn't care about her life anymore. That was clear as day, and unfortunately, your relationship was suffering because of it. You knew that Silco's death had killed her inside, that his absence left her lost and confused. But you were so desperate to keep her together. So much so that you were practically destroying yourself for her well-being. Eventually, this boiled over when she was beginning to pull away from you. You, who had always been there. You, who she always cringed onto and begged to stay with her. You only had eachother now. It was impossible to think about a life without her now.

The unhinged spark in her eye had faded away and was replaced by an empty shell of what it once was. That scared you more than you'd like to admit. "Jinx... what are you thinking of?" You asked her one night whilst you quietly snuk around the dark lanes of your home. She didn't respond at first, and your eyes were focused on the back of her hooded head, wondering if she even heard you. But you know she had, when she came to a sudden stop. "... I... I think we should part ways, sweetheart. This ain't gonna go over well forever." She said in that hauntingly calm voice you've grown to hate. And you'd be lying if you said that you didn't see this coming.

"But why? We've always been together through everything. This isn't any different-" "-But it is! It's over! Jinx is over!" Facing you, you near flinched at her glowing, violet eyes, heart beating against your chest. She would never hurt you. You knew she wouldn't. And yet... you found yourself ever so slightly stepping away. Maybe that's what set her off in hindsight. "You're gonna leave me like everyone else anyway. Might as well beat ya to it-" "-I would never do that! What has gotten into you? You should know better than to think that-" "-You're scared of me, ain't ya?" You pressed your lips together when you realised that her mental state had gotten much worse than you expected.

She was losing it.

"In fact, I bet you're thinking of me the same way Vi does. You'll be so much happier without me. But... actually... what if you're going to backstab me like her one day?" The look on your face must've been horrific enough to sober her scrambled mind then because even she seemed to be unsure of what she's saying. And yes, you knew she wasn't doing well. You knew she was just saying things without thinking them through. But you were sick of it. So tired of it all. She could practically read your mind.

"W-wait, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I-" "-Okay... you're right. We truly would be better off going our separate ways." You were stepping away from her quicker now, and then you were running, your view becoming blurry and unintelligible. "WAIT NO, PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME, I DIDN'T MEAN IT, I-" Jinx screamed after you, her breathing heavy and uneven, but she didn't go after you. She knew she had lost that right the second she opened her mouth.

You disappeared into the lanes, for the first time ever sprinting away from rather than towards her. And like the Jinx she was, she had screwed up another good thing up for herself. Perhaps deservingly this time.

》EKKO

Ekko was extremely busy with his duties lately and practically completely neglecting himself for them. It was very concerning to you and everyone, to say the least. Especially now that a war was practically forming at your front door from Piltover. And you were grateful and thankful for all he did for you. You really were. For that reason alone, you wanted him to take things easy at least sometimes to eat and sleep properly when he can. So, on the request of other members, you went to go looking for him one night before it was time for bed. He was sitting up in the tree, clearly planning to keep watch all night, like he usually did.

But you had come with a mission of your own and refused to leave until he came down to bed with you. "Ekko." You hummed as you finally reached him, a friendly smile on your lips. Balancing a nice basket of baked goods you had made yourself, you stepped towards his form that was beautifully illuminated in the moonlight. Seeing him here made you feel content and relieved since you were barely seeing each other to begin with anymore. Which you have been trying to be understanding about.

"I know what you're here for, and the answer is still no." The young man sighed with a shake of his head and frown. You weren't the first one to come by, that's for sure. "Hey... you know this isn't healthy. We're counting on you to stay strong for us, and you can't be that if you're starving yourself." You say with a slight falter to your smile, yet you tried to keep your tone playful and light. He, on the other hand, did not.

"I already told you that it's a no. Now go to bed and let me work." "But I made you these and-" "-I said, no." He hissed out, and that took you aback. He never raised his voice at you, nor did he ever have an attitude with you either. But the stress was getting to him badly, and so was the lack of sleep. "Why can't you just get that? How many times do I have to say it to get it through your thick skull? The least you could do is go and make yourself somewhat useful by patrolling, instead of wasting your time with this."

Oh, how his words cut you deep. Rationally, you knew that everything was just getting too much for him. But it didn't stop you from feeling hurt anyway, as your lip wobbled, and you slammed the basket on a nearby desk before quickly taking your leave wordlessly. Ekko froze at that and reached out to you, your name on the tip of his tongue, but the guilt stopped him from saying a thing.

"Fuck!" He cursed at himself, as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with a disappointed sigh. He definitely was losing it... and you unfortunately had to unfairly take the brunt of it.

》SEVIKA

"What did I tell you about running off when I tell you to stay put? You could have fucking died out there and then what?" Sevika was angry at you. Not that you could necessarily blame her since you did nearly get killed by an Enforcer earlier. But you had no real choice in this. You swore you didn't mean for this to happen. It was supposed to just be a quick errand run. You wanted to make her something nice for dinner, spoil her a little as a thank you for all the work she was putting into Zaun. Yet you couldn't explain any of this with the way she didn't let you even say a word now from the anger running in her veins. In fact, you had never seen her this enraged before.

"I am sick and tired of you disobeying what I tell you. I can't always be there and save you from everything, you know? I got better things to do and than to babysit you all the time-" "- I'm not asking you to do that either! I'm a grown adult, I can take care of myself!" You yelled back, absolutely angry now yourself at the way she always infantilized you like this. It always the same conversation and argument over and over again. You were so sick of it. You could handle yourself just fine and have proved this before. Yet she was so hellbent on proving you wrong every time, you couldn't take it anymore!

"I'm your partner, Sev. You're supposed to treat me like an equal." "I would, if you weren't so fucking incompetent. If I wasn't there, you would've been dead. Why can't you get that? Should I spell it out for you more? Dumb it down even more?" You hated when she was being like this. It was rare for a reason, and you despised this side of her. The side that was so prideful and egotistical. And you were trying so hard not to stoop to her level. It didn't help that you were a little injured and struggling to stand as is. "I'm not in the mood for this shit, I'm literally bleeding. Can we argue about this later, please? I just wanted to surprise you with something nice for once, and I get that I was wrong, but you don't have to be so mean about it, damn it!"

The tears in your eyes were betraying you, and the embarrassment of that just made you push past her and disappear into your shared bedroom. You'll just deal with the injury yourself. Sevika stared after you in slight surprise, considering it was rare for you to yell back like that and cry at that... but the sight of the flowers and half prepared food on the kitchen counter made the regret finally set in.

Perhaps you were right after all.

[sammycutiepie]

pillars. / viktor x gn!reader, fluff and angst, lots of angst actually, implied childhood friends, confession kisses, mentions of death, one singular czech pet name, kissing viktor's moles, takes place during s1 act 2, so technically no s2 spoilers but some things are implied. word count: 7.9k

read on ao3

════════════════════

"You look exhausted," You hum, your voice thick with fatigue in unison, "Don't you think you should rest?" 

Viktor takes a breath deep and slow enough to hear, his hands briefly faltering as he twirls a small, bronze magnifying glass with his fingers, but he doesn't reply, nor does he turn away from his notes. 

The lab is cool, quiet — aside from the distant hum of various pressure valves and idle machinery. The Hexcore thrums. Runic engravings litter each complex, geometric surface. Viktor rests his balled-up hand on his face, bony knuckles pressing into his cheek. With his inkpen, he messily scrawls something into his notebook. Low, blue light illuminates the cluttered room and his workspace. Each side of the Hexcore pulses when you approach behind him, twirling to its own complex, ominous rhythm. Acknowledging you, somewhat. 

Viktor inhales sharply, and shakes his head frustratedly, crossing out what he'd just written with jittery, forceful motions. 

It wouldn't be the first time you've found him here, like this, mulling over some sort of invention or idea when most of the city is already asleep. Falling into a focused routine is merely second nature. And normally, you wouldn't protest. 

When you were much, much younger, staying awake as long as you could felt fun. Helping Viktor cram studying for exams in between finishing an invention the night before Progress Day became a yearly occurrence. In the weeks before finalizing blueprints for the Hexgates, you'd almost forgotten when either of you had last seen the sun. It's just that this routine has been far more absorbing, far more taxing — and the repercussions are painted clearly on Viktor's shadowed face. 

He looks drained. Worn. Like if he tried to stand, if he wasn't leaning against his desk and absorbed in his research, the weight of his own exhaustion might make him crumble and collapse. The ends of his hair stick out in messy, curled strands, from where he's anxiously twirled them around his fingers. 

You hate the dark bags that have made their home under his eyes. You feel a knot in your gut as you watch Viktor's hands; shaky, and imprecise. Flipping through the pages of his notebook to search for something. Tracing a sentence with the end of his inkpen, only for his gaze to flicker back to the start when the words failed to register. 

You sigh. Forcing a smile, even though he can't see it, you take another stumbling step forwards. Your arms wrap around his thin figure loosely, and your weight settles gently yet firmly against his hunched back, in something of a tender, evocative hug. 

Viktor shifts, his grip tightens on his pen when it almost slips. You nuzzle into the perfect, head-shaped space at the crook of his neck, breathing him in — flooding your senses with a coffee-warm richness, with the scent of ash and sweat and lingering sparks. 

His gaze softens like melted honey. As if the simple press of your body to his returned pieces to himself he'd thought he lost. Brows unpinching, your heat at his neck spreads across him in waves, contradicting the collected edge kept in his tone. 

"I'm not yet tired," Viktor lies, trying his hardest not to lean into your embrace. "I'd like to analyze this for a few moments longer. This page is," He shakes his head. "Incomplete. If I could find the key to what induces some form of response, then-" 

As if on queue, the Hexcore sparks with energy, twirling faster, glowing with luminous constellations. Viktor swiftly moves to jot something down, but as fast as the Hexcore reacted, it's just as quick to return to normalcy. 

He mutters something under his breath, slightly jostling you from his shoulders when he leans forwards in focus. 

"I swear," You're grumbling; you rest your chin on the hard edge of his shoulder, glancing between the Hexcore and his notes with passive interest. "You've always been like this." 

"Like what?" Viktor flips through his notebook once more. "Stubborn, I'm assuming?" 

"Stubborn, yes. Smart. Terribly ambitious." You reach up, until you're able to place a few taps onto his forehead with the end of your finger. Viktor barely seems to notice. He adds onto an almost-full page by messily writing in the margins. 

"I know how hard it is for you to stop those gears in that brain of yours. Once they're going, it's impossible to get them to stop." 

"Mm. And you know how important this pursuit is in particular, yes?" 

He reaches for a notched turn dial on the opposite side of his desk, connected to the Hexcore by a series of braided wires and support poles. Your gaze follows his hands — gripping carefully, with delicate, calloused fingers. There's a distinct pause. A moment of palpable tension, as you both instinctively hold your breath. 

Viktor twists the dial. Once, twice. 

The Hexcore gives off a few miniscule, pitiful sparks, like a God's first attempt at a lightning storm. And he expels a long, drowsy, disappointed sigh. 

"I do," You murmur, sympathetic. 

Viktor grinds his jaw, hard enough to feel it aching, but even through his fierce familiarity with self-induced destruction, even though he isn't deserving of this, he can't hope to hold onto the ragged bites of stress in his veins. Not when you're so warm, when the feeling you ignite in his chest with your voice alone is so terribly soft. He has missed this. 

"But I also know," You're continuing, "Every time you get close to a breakthrough, once you let yourself rest," Viktor's head nods sleepily, struggling not to fall, and you playfully tap your index finger to the end of his nose. 

"That's when you find it." 

Part of him wishes he could keep himself from listening. Of course, as strongly as he wants to be better and more efficient, because taking a break is like admitting defeat, and defeat is worse than accepting he might've reached the end of his line — he knows you're right. 

Placing the cap on his pen, he leaves it in the middle of his notebook, closes the pages to save his spot before hastily, reluctantly pushing it aside. 

You grin. You slowly shift up, and Viktor feels your arms sliding from his shoulders, your weight leaving his body. For a second, he thinks you might move, believes you'll leave and feels a sharp grind between his ribs at the thought. Instead, you place your palms on his rigid shoulders, and you squeeze. 

His lashes flutter, eyes partially rolling into his skull. His head grows dizzy, like he'd been spun. Frustration melts out of him as warmth and light take its place, shining from your touch like the kiss of stars and the rays of the sun. Bright and lovely; galaxies weaving themselves into his tired muscles. 

Relaxing, he can't help but lean back, dropping his head against your waiting chest. 

"I saw Jayce before I left this morning," You're murmuring. It's in one ear, and out the other at first. You lean in, speaking close to him this time, to make sure you've been heard. Your voice shudders through him, warm like candle wax. "Says he hasn't seen you sleep in days." 

"In one day," Viktor corrects, rather matter-of-fact for someone who's busy melting into you like his limbs are boneless. "Technically, about twenty- no, twenty two hours. More or less. Honestly… hardly worth the over-exaggeration." 

"Vik," You scoff playfully, breath fanning warmly on his skin. "You're doing it again." 

Your palms move. They drift from his shoulders to his arms, fingertips gently toying with his sleeves in a foolish attempt to touch his skin. He tilts his head all the way back, and cracks his weary eyes open to look at you. 

"And what is it I'm doing?" 

"Saying things that make me worry about you. And then expecting me not to." 

"I am not-" 

Right then, before he can speak, your hands return to his now-tensed shoulders; they combat the ache in his chest and the tightness in his throat when they roll his muscles. His chest thrums with a soothing gentleness, rich and saccharine, difficult to swallow down. 

"You are worried about me?" Viktor questions, sighing slightly when your hands work out a particularly old, tightened knot. "I have not seen you in… who knows how many days. I have lost count." 

Your mouth forms a hard line. 

"I- I know," You're answering, hands drifting down smoothly, as if they're carried on waves. They find where his tie is neatly fastened around his collar, grasping the diamond and pulling to loosen it. "I've been trying not to get in your way. Everything is just- Jayce is a counselor now, and you're busy with a thousand different things. I'm not going to interrupt your work with my stupid-" 

"Our work." Viktor's tone is resolute. It holds you, grounds you against the raging winds in your mind that threaten to pull at your pieces. "Hextech was furthered by your contributions. Do not forget that." 

You swallow, but it does little to chase away the dryness in your throat. In a hasty, abrupt motion, your palm grasps Viktor's shoulder, this time twisting his chair to make him face you. He eyes you with surprise for a moment, his tired gaze tender and weak enough to light the shrapnel in your stomach. 

"Viktor." Your head tilts, affectionate. You reach up, and brush away the messy strands of hair that cover his pretty face and tickle his forehead. "This research, this dream of yours, it's-" 

"It is a necessary risk." 

Gaze wide, you freeze up. Viktor exhales sharply, glances away from you to focus on something in the distance instead — messy shelves of discarded machinery, inventions you once worked on together, etched with your signature and his — because the way you're looking at him has an ache prodding at his heart, sharp and thorned.  

"Finalizing this thesis would simply be the beginning," Viktor continues, passionate, gradually starting to talk with his hands. "Think of the lives we could save, of the good we could prosper from this sort of technology. Enough to improve the Undercity for the better, to provide rationale for the potential dangers. I understand you are worried- but this is our life's work we are talking about. If we were to determine the true limits of Hextech, it would make our efforts worth it, in spite of… even if…" 

He stops, trails off. Glances up, and decides he might've said too much. You understand. You have always understood where all of this is going. 

The lives he could change would be worth the price, even if he was to throw away his. 

Tattered threads tear from within you — unspoken, buried deep. You've become well acquainted with the taste of denial. Sharp on your tongue, thick in your throat to meld with the bile. It sits on your lips as words better left unspoken. Eats away at your skin and your flesh and your core, settles in your limbs and at the tips of your useless fingers. Reverberates, until the ringing in your ears begins to sound like him. 

Piltover feels so distant, with the idle noise of the lab filling the room. Miles away, even though you're right in its heart. Nothing has ever been fair. It cast you aside, it was never your home. He was. 

All you've received for ages now are fake sentiments, vague reassurances. Reminders of how terribly futile your ambitions have proven to be. Every sun has to set, every star will burn out — but fuck, you don't want him to burn. 

Your mind is dizzy. Each thought spins, tipped faster and faster. Light pounds from behind your eyelids, and your stomach churns, making you nauseous. The lines blur between Viktor's figure, the floor, and the dull aura of the Hexcore, beginning to overlap everything together. 

You aren't present, or perhaps you're wishing to be anywhere but here. Curled beneath the covers, hiding under your bed like you did when you were a child, running to the furthest, broken edge of the universe so you wouldn't have to imagine him slipping through your fingertips; Viktor draws you back, grasping your chin oh-so gently. He tilts you towards him, puts your focus on him to push the rest of the world into the background. 

"Though, I suppose there is no harm in stopping for the night," Viktor reasons, his tone a soft murmur, devastatingly gentle. "I have missed you. I believe I may have neglected to make myself clear." 

And for a brief reprieve, there isn't anything sweeter. Nothing this fatal. 

His arm braces behind him, elbow resting on the edge of the desk. You follow through when he gently keeps you in place, steady on his direction; you're a compass, and he's Polaris. Your gazes don't separate, magnetized together like a hex crystal to iron. 

For a moment, he forms a small pout, in a way that would have you grinning if the circumstances were different. His expression ripens, becomes soft. Almost guilty. A plea and an apology and some form of a confession, muddled into one dangerous, indecipherable nebula. 

"You sure?" You're muttering, trying to keep your tone upbeat, regardless. "Your project looks like it's itching to fly away." 

"Eh," Viktor shrugs, he allows his thumb to brush over your cheek. "I'm sure it can wait. It understands I have more important things to focus on." 

His touch makes you ache. Guides your sorrow to entwine with his, digs in deep to grasp at your chest with such devastating familiarity. 

It's an excruciating reminder of how much you have craved this. How badly it hurts, to feel Viktor's hand tremble as he touches you, slightly unsure, when you wish he wouldn't be. Exhaustion is wound so deeply into his system, you'd think he was born with it. He brushes his palm from your cheek to your jaw, caressing idly, in an absent, lazy motion. And it frustrates you, because you know you'll soon be lost, wishing you could feel his touch again. 

Every pound of your heart reminds you of everything — of the brushes of fingers, when passing tools and pens at the work table. Hands solidly grabbing one another to steady anxieties, to offer familiar reminders. Nights spent categorizing constellations, while in your eyes, Viktor's radiance burned brighter than any distant galaxy. 

Gentle touches pressed to weary limbs. Tightening machinery, releasing the gears on a brace. An arm offered to help him stand. Instinctually standing beside him, at the side that might need you. Fingertips exploring the notches of a spine, traveling rivers of veins, mapping out star-shaped clusters of freckles. 

Tired moments much like this, but instead of protests and strives against fate, there were lovely brushes of whispers. Twin dips in the same bed, murmurs of, I'm here, you can go back to sleep. Touches that wished for themselves to be something more, something lasting. Though they knew they'd evaporate by morning. 

It's far too late to still rely on daydreams. 

You let the haze die out, tracing the edges of his hard knuckles as an apology before you clumsily push his hand from your cheek. Standing up straight, the lab seeming more cold and quiet and empty than ever, you choose to put distance in between yourself, and your lost love. 

"Sorry. I shouldn't-" Breathe, you've got to remind yourself to breathe. Air catches in your lungs, sharp and dizzy, and you quickly shake your head. "Viktor, I-" 

Gods, Viktor shouldn't have to choose between you and his ambition. He shouldn't need to place his own body in the middle of making a difference, and saving himself. There's still so much you haven't done, haven't said. The life you both dreamed of and fought for is crumbling, he still has so much he was meant to accomplish, and yet — 

A hand grabs your wrist with surprising force, to keep you from taking another step back. 

Viktor's brows pinch. "Do not tell me you're thinking of leaving." 

Oh. Your gaze finally travels up from your feet, and he looks hurt; his voice barely manages to avoid cracking around the edges. His fingers dig into your wrist sharply, desperately. 

Viktor's jaw tightens, his firm grip causing veins to show in his wrist. Your shoulders slump, and you exhale. 

"I'll walk home with you. You shouldn't sleep here, it's bad for your-" 

"No, no you will not," Viktor interrupts, exasperation echoed through his tone, pain and worry laced through the lines of his palms to compel them to shake. "Tell me why you are refusing to stay. It's been weeks without change, why must you run off the moment I attempt to make time for you? I doubt you have any idea how much this torments me." 

Weeks of avoidance, days upon days where he'd watch you disappear too soon. Viktor would turn, he'd say something to the empty air because he expected you to be there, but you would be gone, absent from the lab or the hallways or the dorm you once shared. Bitter sentimentality, the hurt you forgot to take with you, is all that would linger in his bones. 

Just how far are you willing to run — in vain, until your legs might snap — to pretend you won't lose the only thing you have left, your friend, your partner, to imagine you might escape the certainty of his conclusion? 

Your gaze is flighty. It carries raindrops, flutters on soft wings, between him and the intricate, statuette angles of his face. Between the ground and the desk, and the glowing Hexcore. He has rarely seen you so unsettled. When your emotions run high, you hide them from him; unsuccessfully, he might add. Your wrist flexes beneath his palm as he feels your hand clench, and unclench. 

Little by little, you're tugging his heart from between his ribs. Tearing it apart like petals pulled, like the games you used to get lost in when you both were kids; you love him, you love him not —

"I can't stay. I wasn't- I shouldn't have tried to come back to the lab in the first place," You answer, dejected. His grip only tightens on your wrist when you pull. "Viktor, please." 

"Answer me. I need you to say something," Viktor grits out, voice getting louder, his shoulders tensed with frustration. "What is the cause of this- this fracture in between us?" 

Your arm drops. Your bottom lip quivers, and your breath gets caught in your lungs. The expression on your face is more sore than he's ever seen it, painful enough to kill, bordering on bursting into tears. 

And then, your voice quiets. "I don't want to watch you die." 

The Hexcore gives off a low, rumbling sound. The lab becomes quiet enough to hear the individual ticks of machinery gears. 

Viktor's grip loosens on your wrist, only slightly. He doesn't speak, he can't listen to his heart or his head when he's placed between the persistent thrumming of both. You aren't looking at him. Regret dawns on your face, then sadness, then something he can't recognize when you turn your head away. Fatigue curls into his system, and settles amongst everything else: the guilt, the anticipation. The raw, forceful tenderness. 

It's a reminder that you're right. 

The passing of each slow second seems to exist for just the two of you. Dragging on and on. Barely helping him to find any answers. If only there was more time. 

Words could never be enough, burying your emotions like lodging a knife way deep in your chest isn't working. Your partner was made to burn bright, to exist as an act of defiance itself. To dedicate his mind and his body and his bruised hands to progress, no matter the obstacles or limitations, the past grievances or untold emotions. 

So many moments were never adequately spent. Days and weeks across years taunted you, moments spent as friends and colleagues, despite half of you belonging to him. 

You just needed one push, one thrust into the light to stop you from holding back, because you knew you risked ruining everything. But if Viktor continues, if the Hexcore grows more and more dangerous, if the council continues to require more of him, and what you haven't spoken about becomes true — there won't be anything left to ruin.

And as he watches you collapse, firm on the outside but weak on the inside, turning back to him because you have to, not because you want to, Viktor finally understands. 

He knows this body is… wilting. 

Decaying; he can feel every ounce of newfound weakness in his limbs, knows he's a servant to his own existence as it waits for him to waste away. Many from the Undercity are much less fortunate. He is grateful you are stronger than him. 

More pressingly, he is acutely, abruptly aware of how little time he's spent with you — it runs as fierce in his chest as the hourglass-shaped reminders of the short span he has left. You used to be inseparable, you shared the same dreams. Your talks weren't limited to melancholy utterances of, Have you eaten yet? and, Is your leg okay? and, I never see you anymore, will this time be the last? 

How he's chosen to treat himself are small deaths, in a way. Promises to join you later that led to nothing, nights of exhaustion framed by mornings of fading in and out. He's followed his own guide to avoidance, the steps were simply laid out differently. He's grown sick of it, truly. And deep down, or perhaps on the surface, he is so, terribly exhausted. 

Swallowing thickly, you remain frozen in place, waiting for him to give up, for his hand to slip from your wrist. When it does, you continue to linger. Your heart pounds loud in your ears. Little glances at him greet you with his face downcast, his shoulders slumped. 

You sigh — and you decide this can't be it, or perhaps you're just not ready. You draw yourself dangerously close, to trail your knuckles down Viktor's sharp jaw as a weak apology. 

If there's one thing he isn't accustomed to, it's throwing logic to the wind. Viktor tries to think of this like his notes, attempts to categorize and interpret these emotions. He imagines there's diagrams and logs in his own swirly handwriting, outlines that would guide him to precisely what he needs to do. 

None of it works, of course. It's a terribly juvenile line of thinking. And he's rarely one to give into impulsivity, but you make it so difficult to think, to focus. 

His breathing is already quickening and sharpening, creating pockets of light in his weak lungs, even through the reminders of his own mortality's shadow. Nothing is more important than the feeling you cradle in his chest, bright and fate-defying. 

It would not be like him to accept this. To fade out with a hundred contributions unfinished, a thousand words unspoken. Confessions meant to fall from his voice like meteor showers, fears and regrets with no way to form on his tongue. The thought alone leaves him troubled, choked. His jaw tightens in frustration, only relaxing when the ghost of your fingertips guides him to. 

Low light frames you, the features of your face troubled; oh, he can hardly remember the last time he's seen your smile. But he remembers, knows it to be beautiful. The slight softening his gaze undergoes as it flickers across you is utterly familiar — you pointed it out, once. 

Your eyes overfill with warmth, they melt like amber. Your pupils widen like big, lovesick moons. His head can't help but spin; there's so much he never realized, when you did.

His hands like to absently search for something to fiddle with when he needs to think. His fingers have a habit of tapping against something methodically: his desk, the spine of his notebook, his own forehead. The mark above his mouth follows his lips, when they tip into a smile. He's doing it now, surely. Softening in your afterimage. Gaze warm, honeyed, hopeful. 

No, he isn't sure if his fate can be changed; he's treading close, but he isn't dying yet. The Hexcore is unresponsive to every stimulus he's attempted, but his research is far from complete. There are mountains of quandaries he isn't sure he can fix, pitfalls remaining just out of his control. All but one, all but this. This is something he could do, something he can change. 

You almost speak. Almost give some useless, parting words when his tired, gentle eyes drift back to yours, two ships on the same sea. He's inquisitive, hesitant, his brows creased together in thought and with conviction. The mere sight of him — hair a mess, skin pallid, ignites a thousand feelings and worries in your gut; a lighter tossed to a puddle of gasoline. 

It's something Viktor picks up on. 

You look pained. Unsure of yourself, from the way your eyes can't quite meet his own, from how your hand slips away from his cheek, as everything in you threatens to disappear. Weary, as you gaze at him like you've already lost him. 

You've forgotten how to read him, he realizes. Caught up on what you might lose, the both of you have forgotten what you could have. Viktor's heart feels like it might burst, with enough force to make the sun's implosion look weak, and you don't understand, he'd have to show you. 

He takes it as a sign. Grasps the last chance you've extended to him, and runs with it as fast as he can. 

His name dies on your mouth, before you have the chance to speak it. Echoes haunt your soul when his palm finds your cheek, solid, sure; Viktor pulls you in hard, threads of distance easily closed, and he presses his lips to yours with an intensity that feels vividly visceral. 

It won't fix what's already been done. This isn't a promise, falling short between being reassurance and becoming a goodbye. It isn't the way he would want to confess, if fate was kind enough to give him a choice. 

But Gods, logic and reason, worry and mortality are all melting into nothing. Fading and fizzing into the sky, budding and beginning anew in his lungs — because for so long, he has needed this, needed you. As fiercely as dead parchment longs to be burned. 

Your body immediately goes tense in surprise. Your arms awkwardly hover in place, until Viktor's head tilts, following the gentle aria, his palm brushing from your jaw to your cheek to hold you close — as though you're still prone to vanishing, if he were to let go. Like this is the beginning of too many firsts, and even more lasts. This kiss is worthy of savoring. 

So, you do. You let your eyes flutter closed. You shift forwards with a shaky step, practically stumbling into him. 

It's sweeter than you ever could have pictured. The subtle roughness to his chapped lips. The slight tickle of his breath, when you pull apart for long enough to hesitate, but not enough to gain the wisdom to stop. 

Soft kisses draw you further, closer. A hand holds his cheek, a palm braces to his shoulder. Careful to use little force, to avoid any accidental hurt. 

Viktor follows, leans back, has you bending closer as you get caught in his butterfly effect; blue light bathes you, and the Hexcore shifts, utterly radiant. There's a moment of separation, a brief second where your eyes barely get to flutter open. A pause that promises to be your last opportunity for regret. Greedy and urgent, brutally eager, Viktor drags you back in, keeping you caught in his penumbra. Coaxing you to cage him in — to kiss him like you mean it. 

The taste of you is vivid, perfect, intense, rich; you make charged electricity glitter down his spine when your fingers curl into the soft, chestnut tresses of his hair. Grasping, pulling, leaving it even messier than it already was before. 

Your lips part, your breath forms an intoxicating meld with his. And he is only foolishly, stupidly human. Made of flesh and bright dreams, etched with soft skin and fervent desires. Too weak, desperate, and caught in your echo to contemplate anything but the way his own name sounds — the V is a soft vibration, the completion of the consonants makes it sound like reverence — when it's breathed into his mouth. 

Hazily, he feels your palm press, shoving gently to his chest, pushing his back against the desk in a clumsy effort to bring yourself closer. His chair shifts slightly from the movement, rusted wheels grating the tile. Your palm finds its place between his lower back and the desk's firm edge, bracing some of his weight, and acting as a buffer, keeping him from pressing against it. 

Viktor melts underneath you, breathes a soft noise into your mouth that begs you not to stop — as if you could. As if you haven't wanted this in an unquantifiable amount of ways, across an infinitum of discarded daydreams. You're left to steal gasps in between, clinging onto quickened sighs that rival the struggle of keeping your head above water, as wild waves crash over your skull. 

Out of breath, he blindly fumbles to find your shoulder; pushes gently, silently asks you for a moment of reprieve. 

You draw back immediately. You're unable to stop yourself from shuddering when he softly breathes your name. Familiar accent curling around the syllables, giving them life and importance like your name was made for him to say. To whisper, to covet, to plead. 

"Lásko," Viktor coos, as his eyes grow heavy. Glinting, with a spark of zeal that tells you to stop holding back. 

You're well acquainted with the warm, softhearted nickname. You know it to be something Viktor taught you himself, between gentle explorations of the few things you didn't already know about one another, when your late-night curiosity and desire to learn led you to, Oh, and what name would you use for someone special? 

His jaw grits; his next words, murmured in his mother tongue, resemble a sharp, possessive swear. His head tilts with yours when you lean closer — but you shift, falling in to let your lips find his neck. 

The kisses you place there are hurried, desperate; like rays of light, as if you don't have time. Obediently, he stifles a whimper, and allows his head to fall back. It leaves plenty of room for your wandering hands to crinkle and press aside his shirt collar, and you place your lips on the firm, jutting curve of his collarbone. 

You find the twin moles on his neck tendon, blessing a kiss there, near desperate enough to bruise. You follow them like a treasure map, to kiss the perfectly-placed mole above his mouth. Your palms cup his face faintly. Then, you sweetly kiss the mark on his opposite cheek, your lips warm, laced with fervent sparks. 

Viktor shudders, he feels lighting race up his spine and split him open like a scythe. He's been avoiding his own declining reflection for weeks upon months now, but he doesn't need to remember much of himself to still know exactly where you're kissing, like the back of his hand. 

The ghost of your lips just above his mouth, and then to the apple of his cheek send a thick, syrup-sweet realization reeling through him. His moles. It reminds him of fingertips playfully tapping his face. Of soft comments and pretty compliments, portraits of his own image that he'd never forgotten because they were from you. 

When you hear the hitch in his breath, he swears he feels you smile against him. He's certain, once you shift back down to his neck, to repeat the process all over again. Placing messy kisses onto his soft skin, worshiping the intricacies he would've never thought were admirable. Memorizing each placement as though it's deliberate, like making a map of the night sky's constellations. And Viktor swallows, shakes, softens. 

Blindly, you search for where his hand has been kept at your side. You grasp it, and pursue the natural interlacing of fingers: yours fitting perfectly between the gaps of his. 

Trying not to shudder, failing when your breath fans against the right-angle corner of his jaw, he guides his free hand to trace the small of your back. His fingertips are gentle, hesitant. Careful brushes akin to a study, an exploration. 

With a dizzy mind and even more muddled thoughts, he doesn't expect when you support your weight by placing your knee on his stool, between his legs — when you lean in close and fast and hard, crashing your lips against his once more. One kiss isn't enough, so you kiss him again; you let yourself be pulled in on his current, and he forgoes breathing to drink you in instead. 

Your body arches into his touch, curves when his palm presses flat to your back, attempting to feel as much of you as possible. You want to be pliable beneath his warm hands like clay, because at least being molded would leave an imprint. You'd have something to remember what this meant, what his touch felt like. 

Seconds and minutes bleed into one another. You can barely tell where he begins, and you end. Two halves of the same anatomy, you can feel the thrum of his inherent light beneath your breastbone. 

The Hexcore watches. Pulses, hard enough to make pens begin to roll across the desk. To topple a precarious stack of diagrams, which sends a few papers fluttering to the ground, to make the steel marbles of a Newton's cradle clumsily clink together. 

Neither of you notice. The response Viktor's been searching for spikes just beyond his reach. You make him feel weightless, as though the fragility of his own vessel is more of an afterthought, until he could be ripped into fragments and you would be there to put him back together. Viktor's palm holds the back of your neck, his head tilts with yours, and you kiss. Falling into one another, only unfalling to breathe. Your atoms melt into his particles, blossoming a blur between your two shapes. Your heart pounds with his, to a rhythm so exact they could be mistaken for the same singular beat. 

Finally pulling away requires a mountain's worth of strength and effort. You only do so because you've got Viktor's back pressed hard against the desk, and he's practically about to fall off his chair. 

You both needed to breathe. It takes several moments for your head to stop spinning. You can barely focus on anything, but the bruising of your lips and the skip of your heartbeat. Stumbling back, sliding from his chair to offer him more room, you cup his jaw in both palms. Soft and blissfully tender, as though this is what they were made to hold. 

Viktor sighs hard, gasping heavily. His skin is slightly flushed, still warm to the touch. His gaze stays on you, basking in your afterglow. You're used to him flinching away. A slight hesitation always laces through his fingers when you try to grab his hand. His muscles tense on instinct whenever your arm wraps around him, braced to help support his weight. 

But this time, your palms hold his face, your thumbs brush his skin, and he melts into your touch, unburdened. Gaze fluttery, expression relaxed. Giving in at last, after countless ages of starvation. 

The low light of the lab, and the soft glow of the Hexcore's rune matrix — quiet, now — frame his face in outlines of shadow and hues of cerulean. Shades of blue meld with the honeycomb of his eyes, dulling the color. Clouds over a fading sun. 

He hears the slight shake in your breath first, before he feels a tiny droplet hit his cheek; and you're leaning forward, trying to hide. Eyes shut tight, as you rest your forehead against his. 

"Sorry, I-" Viktor murmurs, weak and faint. So quiet, you almost fail to hear. "I know this does not… fix things." 

Oh. He hasn't seen you cry since you were both kids. 

Viktor remembers clumsily trying to comfort you, making a crude somewhat-flower-pinwheel out of scrap metal as a gift, because he thought it wouldn't fix everything, but it might make things a little bit easier. For a time, anyway. 

Reality is often a cold, cruel overseer. Remembering how to breathe again brings sharp pain into his lungs, it returns an ache to his tired shoulders and his strained leg. His vision comes back into focus, his future returns to taunt him but this time, something is different. 

He feels a spark. A newfound wave of ambition. The radiant golden hour, before a bright, final breakthrough. 

"It's fine," You breathe, weak and fragile, with a meager shrug of your shoulders that says you are anything but. "I didn't expect it to." 

Viktor grasps your chin, gently shifting you back to give him space to look at you. His thumb brushes a stray droplet from your cheek. He tuts: a soft, teasing, tch sound. "Ah, but for a time, the world nearly felt miles away. Did it not?" 

His gaze is hopeful, almost nervous. Trying to gauge any slight shift in your reaction. Thankfully, his voice seems to swiftly bring you back to life. You laugh a bit, wiping the remainder of tears away with the back of your hand; there's the smile he's always admired. 

"Like we were melting into each other," You admit, a little shy, tenderly wistful. Your heart unfurls in your chest like a bright, pretty blossom. It's fitting for the both of you to recollect, to try and analyze the intricacies of every situation. "It was…" 

You're pausing, trying to find the right description, as you rest your arms around his shoulders in something of a half-hug. It was lovely? Captivating? Addicting? 

You shake your head. You're glancing away, because even remembering kissing him is enough to make your heart pound, enough to tempt you to pull him in again. Viktor tilts you back towards him, his finger lightly tapping your jaw. 

"Hm- Breathtaking?" He muses, "Better than you could have dreamed?" 

The brief lilt of confidence he embodies, words smooth as they're carried on his accent, pleasantly reminds you of when he was younger. Far too composed, and eager to prove himself. He follows it through, coaxing you forwards with a palm to your side. You're gentle; most of your weight, you support yourself, until Viktor pulls you down, patiently and decidedly guiding you to settle against his lap. 

"You know," You're cooing, head tilted, "That sounds an awful lot like a confession." 

You can see each subtle heave of Viktor's chest, expanding with every long breath he takes in. It's a tight fit. His stool is barely wide enough to accommodate himself, let alone you. His brace presses into the back of your leg just slightly: jutting metal, protruding bolts. The spread of his thighs leaves you with a small amount of space, but still forces your body to press awfully close to his. 

You're in the perfect position to witness every detail of his face. His tired eyes, the curve of his jaw, the slant of his nose. His thick brows pinch slightly, forming a faux pout, and you reach up. You brush your thumb from his temple to his brow, relishing in the instant softening of his expression. 

"Perhaps it is one. Or, actually-" Viktor hums, inquisitive. "It contains the potential to be one, if I decided to elaborate." 

"Oh? Enlighten me." 

A pause. Viktor bites the inside of his cheek as he ruminates, and your fingertips push fluffy strands of hair from his face to tuck behind his ears. 

"For so long, I… ached to be close to you." His tone is calm, temperate. It twists a shiver up your spine, cool and heaven-sent. His palm trails and caresses your face; a lesson in restraint, as he tries to stop himself from pulling you in once more. "It was a pipe dream. I assumed I was… too late." 

"I thought- I was sure you didn't-" Your shoulders grow tense and the bridge of your nose knots up, you twirl a strand of his hair around your finger and pull it away to admire the resounding curl. "Since when?" 

Viktor exhales. "We have been effectively inseparable since the day we met, I am certain you still remember when the Undercity kids would laugh and- and make jabs at my obvious crush. But, you are searching for something specific. In that case, there is one instance." 

This time, you don't have to ask him to elaborate. 

A palm tracing down the column of your neck, idle yet admiring, Viktor takes one more steady, deep breath. "It was the Progress Day after we had finalized the Hexgates. The council's afterparty was… stifling. I was fortunate to have convinced you to attend. You wore such gorgeous attire. Jayce commented, stated I was unable to take my eyes off of you. I denied it. In hindsight, it was more than obvious." 

The party was hardly your usual scene. Viktor was always the one who wound up convincing you to attend every Progress Day. 

He'd mention you should vouch for your contributions, try to mingle. You were fine with dressing up for an hour or two, but all of the drinking and fraternizing — you found the presentations about new technology to be interesting, but everything to happen afterwards was tiring, to put it bluntly. 

The occasion then was more special than most, though. There was a difference in the way Viktor asked you, sounding hopeful and stress-bound. It seemed important to him, and so it was doubly precious to you. 

"I joined you on the balcony, once I was able to shake the flocks of investors." Viktor continues, thinking, thumbing through all of the details, "You'd been saving a cocktail for me all night, if you remember. Something made with rum- apple cider, I believe." 

Viktor recalls overhearing several of your conversations. Your excitement to show off what you invented together was palpable. You made the room shine, he thinks. He watched you go on and on, when you thought he wasn't listening, assuming he was busy with his own consultations. Viktor zoned out of them, truly. Once the day's festivities are over, the rich folk of Piltover are more interested in finances than progress. 

Your words were so kind. Viktor is amazing, have you met him yet? Every sponsor and socialite would know your partner to be intelligent, inventive, incredible. He doesn't compare. It's funny, how Viktor saw the same qualities in you. 

For most of the night, you were separated; Viktor was busy with the swarm of fancy patrons, all of Piltover's finest hoping to get the latest gossip on what the partner to the Man of Progress would come up with next. Luckily, the both of you chose the same hideaway to try and escape the crowd. 

"I had been waiting for such a moment- to speak with you. You offered me your congratulations. Complimented me, on my performance of the short speech you helped me to memorize. And… so clearly, I remember you said, 'I'm so proud, Viktor. But I knew you could do this.'" 

I knew you could. No underestimations, never a doubt in his potential. You believed in him, even when no-one else did. When there weren't eager investors and a fawning council, just you and him, the suffocating smog of the Undercity, and his foolish dreams. Within the gaps in between, your praises sung as loud, unbidden, echoing strums. 

He supposes he's going to have to ask again for your faith, just one more time. 

Viktor's gaze stays focused down, for a moment. Contemplative, emotional. 

"I almost kissed you right then." He glances up to you, finally. "But-" He hums, then sighs, "There were benefactors still lingering just beyond the balcony, some of which already decided to inquire extensively about my personal life. I would have hated for our first kiss to incite such a scene." 

Viktor admires the tender kindling of gentleness on your face. Slightly pained, despite the hints of softness. It's his cue to find your cheek, to hold you close and oh-so softly like he did from the start; the cliff before the waterfall, his first step in to drown with you. 

Nothing will ever return to simplicity. But Viktor refuses to regret this, decides he should face it head on. Every building conflict, these budding emotions, the remnants of how your lips felt on his; tenderly unforgettable, a crucial step that he refuses to forget. 

You can feel the slight tremble to his fingers, the calluses on his palm — 

"Vik-" 

"I need to have your trust." 

Your eyes widen. 

"Viktor," You're starting again, "You already do- you always have. I don't want you to hesitate, you can-" 

"No, no, the Hexcore," Viktor corrects. He takes a quick glance between you, and the shifting runes of his project's surface. Glowing and fluctuating, a marvel even when it is dormant. "There is much I have not yet told the council. Nor Jayce, nor you." 

A newfound flicker of conviction blazes behind his sun-bound eyes. A brightened enthusiasm to solve any puzzle he's presented with, a key twisted into a door that he never thought would open. 

Your gaze is curious, attentive, then clearly conflicted, and he feels his jaw start to tighten. In spite, he continues, speaks with his entire chest, even though his hands tremor at the thought, and his voice is much too soft and broken and he hates the sound it makes when it's breaking — 

"You are the one thing I cannot lose." Viktor holds your face lovingly, captures you in a statue-like state of devotion, as he fights against the gnawing roughness at the back of his throat. "I believe I can solve this, but I need to know that to any end, you will follow. Please." 

It's something he's already sure of, against the faint threads of doubt in his mind. Of course you would, if he was the one to ask. The both of you are knit together as endlessly as the lines that connect the constellations, he just needs to hear you say it. 

You offer him a weakened smile, your touch brushing the curve of his face like fingertips would caress the arch of a flower's petal. "Do what you think is right. I trust you." 

Viktor softens. 

There's bittersweet catharsis in finally admitting the truth, along with an endless chasm threatening to swallow him whole — and for now, for the rest of the night, at least, he wants nothing more than to fall in with you. 

"My love," He murmurs; he draws you close, with the pull of the sea to the moon. He dares to press one more faint kiss to your cheek, despite knowing how infinitely difficult it will be to pull away. "My inspiration," A kiss to the opposite cheek, then. "My little spark." 

The lab remains quiet, dark, save for the low hum, and the glowing orbit of the Hexcore. Viktor leans his head against your chest, relaxes further once you begin gently toying with his hair. And finally, fully, he allows his heavy eyes to close. 

[sammycutiepie]

cursed love

chapter 2

pairing: suguru geto x fem!reader

word account: 5.2k

synopsis: When Yui returns after a year she finds that everything had changed, Suguru had changed, he had become a complete stranger. Promises were broken, like fragile threads left alone by the weight of disappointment. The darkness had invaded all love, cursing it forever.

Ten years later there was Yui in the hospital, after that idiot Gojo Satoru sent two first-year students on a mission that surpassed them in experience and skill.

“How is Maki-san?” Okkotsu Yuuta asked with that melancholic expression that characterized him, he always seemed as if he wanted to die.

Yui looked at her student and then at his curse, Rika, who hugged him protectively, wary of any threat that could put her loved one's life at risk. Yui smiled sideways, Okkotsu believed that Rika had cursed him when things had gone the other way, but she would not reveal that information, that was his turn as part of his canonical event.

"She's fine, Okkotsu, you don't need to worry." Yui wanted to pet his head, but Rika had her sights on her, and they certainly shouldn't make a spectacle of themselves at the hospital.

Yui raised her head and looked for Gojo, he was in the corner, playing with the water dispenser, looking as careless and childish as always.

“Why don't you get yourself some tea? It'll be good for you." Yui advised him, stabbing imaginary daggers into the stronger's head.

Okkotsu got the message and left his teachers alone.

“Will you ever stop endangering the lives of others?”

“They're fine, plus I was outside the curtain in case something went wrong.” Gojo repeated what he had already told the superiors.

“I know you did it to pressure Okkotsu to use his dominance over Rika.”

“And it worked, didn’t it?”

“That's not the point, Gojo. They are our students, they are under our care, they trust us, we are their role models. You should act like a responsible adult for once.”

Gojo had the feeling that he was talking to a sad version of Suguru, actually he had the theory that Yui had copied Suguru's personality to feel close to him, this in a desperate attempt to fill the emotional gaps that were left in the aftermath after his departure.

And everyone had noticed the big change in Hayashi Yui, she was no longer the sweet naive girl who with a smile or a silly joke brightened the day of others, now she was a cold and composed woman who distanced her emotions from the work environment. In fact, Gojo doubted she had a personal life outside of work. She seemed so alone and unavailable, and Gojo himself had tried countless times to change that, but Yui kept walking away, it was as if she was afraid of being abandoned like Suguru did to her.

“Can you skip the morality talk? It’s boring.” Gojo yawned shamelessly.

“Is that the kind of education that you give to the Zen'in boy?”

Yui knew that Gojo only cared for Fushiguro Megumi for selfish reasons, she was pretty sure he saw him as a replacement for Suguru.

Gojo lowered the blindfold that covered his eyes a little to give her a warning look, he didn't liked the tone she used.

“Don't talk about Megumi.”

“Amazing performance, I almost believe for a minute that you care about someone else besides yourself.” Yui spat out those words with venom.

It wasn't a surprise that Yui held a grudge against him because of Suguru, and Gojo didn't blame her, because he beat himself up every damn day of his miserable existence for not having saved his best friend.

“Please try to keep your personal problems with me separate from work, that's not very professional of you.”

Yui was hesitant to add one more thing, but after a few seconds she regretted it.

“I'll leave now that I know everyone is okay. Call me if any problem arises.”

❪∘∘∘❫

“I don't know if I'll be able to tomorrow, I'll probably have to help with the report and go inspect the primary school.” Yui let out a kind of frustrated groan, since thanks to Gojo's irresponsibility she had to sacrifice her day off.

She entered the apartment and left her coat on the coat rack, listening to the man on the line talk to her about the banalities of his day. When she turned on the lights she got paralyzed. Her ears rang and her lungs filled with cold air. She couldn't believe what her eyes were seeing, for a moment she thought she was hallucinating like in the first months, but after pinching her forearm she verified that what she had in front of her was real, very real.

"I'll call you later." She didn't even wait for a response to end the call.

"Welcome home."

Suguru.

Geto Suguru was there, sitting peacefully on her black leather couch.

He looked older and it was logical. His hair was longer and was no more tied up, it fell over his back like a cloak of a starless night. His facial features were hardened, leaving behind the freshness of coveted youth. He was wearing a golden rakusu with green checkered patterns, and underneath a blue yukata, he looked like a monk.

"What do you want?"

Yui knew that a normal person would react differently to finding her ex-boyfriend in what would be judicially considered a home invasion, however, as far as possible, she decided to take it calmly and seriously.

“I didn't know you smoked.” Suguru took the box of cigarettes he had found and threw it on the ground in a disapproving gesture. “Did Shoko give you her bad habit?”

"Stop talking." Yui whispered, her nails tearing the skin of her palms in an attempt to keep herself mentally composed.

“Aren't you happy to see me?” Suguru put on a rather ironic sad expression.

And that was all to unleash hell.

“Am I a joke to you?” Yui raised her voice, caring very little if her neighbors heard her.

"Why do you say that?"

Suguru was wearing out her patience with each new stupid question.

“How dare you show up here after ten years? Acting like nothing happened.” Yui looked at Suguru like he was crazy.

"I missed you."

Oh no, those words were dangerous, they unearthed feelings that Yui didn't want to deal with again.

Not this time. Yui wouldn't let him get under her skin.

"Liar." She spoke with contempt, a lot of contempt.

Suguru stood up and approached her, daring to wipe the tears from her face.

Damn, was she crying? Since when? Yui didn't recognized the feeling, because she had long since taken that privilege away from herself, the privilege of being vulnerable and sensitive.

And why did Suguru's touch feel so good?

It wasn't reasonable, it wasn't reasonable for her to let herself be touched by the man who destroyed her.

"I'm not lying. I miss you, Yui.” Suguru said with that calm voice that stole so many sighs from her back time. He leaned forward, with clear intentions of kissing her, but Yui was faster and broke the physical contact in time.

“Don't say my name so familiarly, you don't deserve that privilege.” She looked so broken as she cried, and it was all Suguru's fault.

“You're annoyed, I understand.” Suguru tried to sound sympathetic, but managed just the opposite.

"Annoyed?" Yui opened her eyes as wide as an owl. How did he have the nerve to say such nonsense?

She followed her intrusive thought and slapped him.

“I fucking hate you, every part of me hates your fucking self. I hate waking up every day and knowing that you breathes the same air as me. If it were possible to remove from my mind all the memories I have with you, I would do it without thinking about it. And if I could make one wish it would be to never have met you. So I feel more for you than just a simple annoyance, Geto Suguru.”

“Hate is a powerful feeling, it makes me happy to know that you feel that way about me.” Suguru caressed where he had been hit, the area was hot and burned a little, he laughed, admiring his girl's strength.

“Stop that behavior!” Yui screamed, pulling her hair and breathing heavily, she no longer knew what to do or what to feel, everything was becoming confusing and she didn't like that.

“What behavior?”

There was another stupid and unnecessary question.

“I'm furious and it drives me crazy to see you so calm when I'm a fucking mess of emotions!”

"You look flawless to me. "

Suguru took the time to observe the new version of Yui. She no longer had bangs and she didn't keep her hair long either; her current style consisted of a bob cut above her shoulders, not too short. Her fashion sense was also different, the pastel colors and baggy clothes had no longer existed, now she looked elegant and very classy, ​​the dress she was wearing might have looked simple, but you could clearly tell that the fabric was designer.

"I have changed." She said with her chin held high, satisfied with the person she had worked so hard to become.

“I can say it. You look stronger. I’m proud of you.” Once again, he smiled, as if that simple gesture couldn't turn Yui's world upside down.

Screw him, she didn't need his approval.

“I want to kill you.” She admitted without hesitation.

Suguru laughed very loudly, finding what Yui had just said extremely funny.

“And what's stopping you?” He didn't give in to the threat, on the contrary, he only provoked it further, Suguru had never been good at measuring danger, in fact, he was a little addicted to it.

It was only enough to move a few centimeters closer to destroy the sorceress's confidence.

"I don't know." She avoided eye contact.

"Come on, I know that you know." Suguru hummed, mocking her.

He took Yui's chin between his long fingers and forced her to look at him.

“Be honest, tell me what you feel.”

And as if it had enchanted her, Yui's tongue was unleashed to spread information like never before.

“My head tells me to finish you, to rip out your heart and crush it like you did mine. But my body doesn't obey, it's as if it were forbidden to do you any kind of harm. Have you cursed me?” That was the most logical reason Yui had found.

Suguru smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear, his index finger brushing against her earlobe and Yui felt her body burn with desire.

“And what is love but another curse?”

This time it was Yui who smiled, she had missed his deep poetic phrases.

Suguru put a hand on her waist and squeezed her tightly, Yui moaned and tightened her grip on his clothes. Their breathing was labored, the room was warm despite the heater. There was so much tension that it could be cutted with a pair of dull scissors.

“Would you consider me shameless if I admitted that I love having power over you?”

“I hate you… I hate you so much.” Yui buried her head in Suguru's worked pecs.

"I love you." Suguru hugged her and swayed their bodies from side to side.

Instead of feeling overjoyed, she felt fucking sad.

"Why are you doing this? Why are you doing this to me? Why do you come back now that I'm fine? It’s not fair, you don’t have the right to do this to me, you don’t.” She hit his chest without force.

"I wanted to see you." Suguru said it with shocking simplicity.

How could he express himself so easily? Did he not have pride or common sense like the others?

Yui pushed him just a little so she could see his face, she was crying again.

“You're a fucking cynical selfish piece of shit.”

Suguru was surprised, the Yui he knew wouldn't dare to curse so freely.

“You needed this as much as I did. And you’re not okay, you can’t pretend with me, not like you do with that man.” Suguru's voice wouldn't have sounded any different to other people, but to Yui who knew him well, it did, she could detect a ring of apathy and even annoyance.

“How do you know I'm seeing someone else?” She asked with narrowed eyes, wary beforehand.

Had he heard her phone call? No, it was impossible, she had shown no signs of closeness… So how?

“I've been away but I haven't missed anything in your life. I know what you do on a daily basis, the time you go to bed and get up, what you eat at each time, the number of kilometers you run each morning. When you come home from work and take off your shoes to dance to depressing songs from the eighties, and then you go to the kitchen, open your favorite bottle of white wine and spend the whole night drinking, alone and sad.”

Now that Suguru had described her routine out loud Yui realized that it sounded pitiful.

When had she herself become so pitiful?

“Have you been harassing me?” She laughed unamusedly.

“Could it really be considered harassment if the alleged victim was aware all the time?”

He was right.

Yui had always had that feeling of being watched, and now she knew it hadn't been paranoia.

“You knew as well as I did that this would happen, our reunion was written in the pages of destiny. That feeble attempt you are making to forget me will not work, Nanami Kento will never be able to take my place.”

Yui didn't know why she was suddenly upset, if it was because of Suguru's ego or because she was hearing the truth?

“You can refuse, you can push me and expel me from your life forever, you have the power to do so. So do it, tell me that you don't love me, tell me that you don't wake up at midnight screaming my name, tell me that you don't lie when you convince yourself that you're better off without me, tell me that that hurt heart doesn't continue beating just for me.”

"I can't." Yui sobbed, too shocked to think clearly.

"Why? Tell me why." Suguru was pushing her to her limits.

She then decided not to give any more thought and to be honest, to surrender to the arms of spontaneity and throw away the words that corrupted her from within.

“Because my soul still claims yours. The mornings are blue without your laughter in the background, the coffee no longer tastes like anything to me, and this house is just an empty place with nice furniture, it doesn't feel like it's mine and that's because… You are my only home.”

Suguru didn't wait any longer and connected their lips, and like old acquaintances they greeted each other energetically. The kiss was not premeditated and much less perfect, in fact, it had been a complete disaster, a mess of saliva and clicking, but oh… how good it felt. It was similar to the feeling of stepping on fresh sand on a summer day, or when a mother prepared her child's favorite meal, there was no greater reward for two inveterate lovers than the sweet taste of reunion.

“Are you going to leave me again?” Yui had to ask, she had to be sure, and her fear was reflected in the way she squeezed Suguru's wrist, refusing to let go, because she thought that if she stopped touching him at some point he would vanish like fog.

“No, not this time.” Suguru kissed her forehead and they both melted into a healing hug.

That night they met again, and again, and again. They discovered new sensations, smells that evoked forgotten memories, they entered a labyrinth of whispers and caresses, where each touch was a dance full of contained passion. The words had been suspended in the air, eclipsed by the symphony of muffled moans and intertwined sighs. These were two souls entangled in an eternal embrace, where there were no clocks or limits, only the burning and fleeting present that belonged to them in their own right.

Just for that night they forgot everything and everyone. That night it was just them. Suguru and Yui, a normal boy and a normal girl.

❪∘∘∘❫

Yaga, through a warning call, gathered all the sorcerers outside the school without giving an apparent explanation.

Yui was accompanied by Nanami, as well as other sorcerers such as Ino and Mei Mei, including the auxiliary assistants, with Ijichi being the head of these. Yui had always found Ijichi admirable, the way he always went out of his way to be helpful was worthy of respect.

Upon arriving at the place, the seriousness of the situation was understood. In front of them was Geto Suguru along with his henchmen, and the most worrying thing of all was that the first-year students were dangerously exposed and surrounded by them. However, luckily for everyone, Gojo was also there, so the risk gradually decreased, although of course, they should not let their guard down.

Yui internally wondered what Suguru intended to do.

And she got her answer quickly when she saw who he was hugging.

Okkotsu Yuuta.

She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, that was why he had stayed in her apartment yesterday, that was why he had looked for her, to get information from her about the rookie sorcerer, he wanted to get the Rika curse. In fact, Yui was sure that if she went home now she wouldn't find Okkotsu's file anywhere.

She had been tricked by Suguru, again.

Okkostu showed resistance to Suguru's deceptive tactics, and even though he smiled as if nothing had happened, Yui could see through him, because for a textbook manipulator like Geto Suguru, not gaining mental control over his target was fucking stressful and humiliating.

“And what did you hope to achieve by coming?” Gojo broke silence, asking the question that had those present intrigued.

“I declare war on you.” He said staring at Yui.

The first-grade sorceress felt a chill run down her spine. Wars only brought loss, death and destruction. Did Suguru really want that? Were his ideals so important? Was his grudge against the world of sorcery so important as to cause such a catastrophe?

“Everyone here, open your ears wide and pay attention. Next December 24, at dusk we will celebrate the night parade of the hundred demons. It will be made in the greatest crucibles of Curses: Shinjuku in Tokyo and the mecca of sorcery, Kyoto. We will release a thousand curses in every place. And of course, his orders will be to “massacre.” If you don't want all hell to break loose, then you're going to have to stop us. Let's curse each other freely.” Suguru smiled in the most sinister way.

Suguru, in his desire to exterminate humanity, would achieve the opposite; sorcerers were not exactly an abundant species, and a war between them would bring depopulation and ruin.

Yui knew that would only end one way.

A victory and a defeat.

And she was aware of something, and that was that she would not be a participant in that chaos.

Yui was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard Gojo threaten Suguru not to let him go. Suguru invoked curses all over the place, revealing the difference of power.

Yui feared the worst and touched her necklace, ready to attack at any moment. But the truth is that she would not fight for the school, despite everything, she still felt the instinct to protect Suguru.

She felt like a traitor, and wasn't she?

What would the higher-ups do if they found out about her weakness for Geto Suguru?

Would they condemn her to death too? Would they consider her a threat to the world of wizardry?

"See you on the battlefield."

❪∘∘∘❫

While Yui was looking for the keys in her bag, she thought about the meeting they had had to strategize for December 24. When Yui confessed to Yaga that she had not the slightest interest in participating, he went crazy and even repeated to her on several occasions that he was very disappointed of her. Yui knew that her lack of responsibility as a sorceress would bring her consequences, or some kind of punishment, but she didn't care. She was tired and had no strength to fight, not against Suguru.

And as if she had summoned him, she found him again on her couch.

“Are you getting into the habit of coming into my house whenever you feel like it?” Yui walked to the kitchen and placed the purchases on the table.

“I thought you might be surprised to see me.” Suguru stood up from the furniture and stretched like a cat.

Yui took an apple and joined the raven-haired man in the living room.

“And I thought you already had all the information you needed about Okkotsu Yuuta.” She bit into the fruit of sin and raised an eyebrow as a form of sarcasm at what she had said.

“That wasn't my only goal in coming yesterday.” He even had the nerve to admit it, but Yui saw it better that way, she was tired of games and lies.

They suddenly fell silent, and even though it wasn't an awkward silence, Yui could sense the anxiety in Suguru, he had something on his mind that he was dying to let out.

“Aren't you going to ask me about what I said at school today? Don't you want explanations? Aren’t you curious?”

There was. Apparently, he hadn't changed as much as Yui thought.

The girl took one last bite of the apple and set it aside.

“Suguru, if I've learned anything it's not to overthink when it comes to you. If I try to understand you, I will be trapped in my common sense that tells me what is right and what is not, that way everything would be meaningless because we would never agree.”

“You have matured a lot.” Suguru looked proud, and Yui hated the emotion that came from being admired by that cruel man.

`Yes, and you weren't there to see it,' Yui piled that thought together with the rest of the complaints that she always kept silent about.

“You would never start a war you couldn't win. You have another plan.” And that wasn't even a question, there wasn't even a hint of uncertainty in her tone of voice, Yui was completely sure.

“Any asumptions?” He looked a little too excited for Yui's liking.

“I know that your main target is Okkotsu, or rather, Rika. You want to add it to your collection of curses.”

“You are so smart, what a waste of talent and power.” Suguru sighed, resting his face in his hands.

Yui knew where he was going with that hint, it was clear that Suguru wanted to recruit her into his kind of sect.

"Get to the point. I know you want to tell me your evil plan.” Yui was especially ironic, she was normalizing the matter in her own way, and that caused Suguru a kind of relief, he almost felt... normal.

"I'm going to kill Okkotsu Yuuta to obtain his cursed spirit."

Yui passed saliva down her parched throat. Shit, she had expected Suguru to be direct, but not this much.

“I thought that wasn't possible.” Yui had so many questions. "Explain yourself."

This made her feel like in the old days, Suguru had been a student who stood out for his ingenuity, and Yui, on the other hand, and due to her attention problems, did not grasp most of what they learned at school. So Suguru, every day after school, took the time to explain everything to her in detail, because he knew how to do it, he knew her better than anyone.

“Even though there is a link between them, I can kill the owner and absorb the curse. I know they won't bring Okkotsu into the fight, he's too valuable to put at risk, plus the superiors are afraid of his self-control. Like they did to you, remember?”

“The war is a distraction.” The sorceress came to a conclusion.

"Exactly."

“Do you think you can fool Gojo?”

“For a while, yes.” Suguru had already thought of all the possibilities and probabilities.

“And what makes you believe that I won't betray you and tell everyone about this?"

Suguru just smiled and replied a simple: “You won't.”

And Yui didn't know how to feel.

For a moment she fantasized about calling her uncle and summoning all the high-class sorcerers to inform them of Suguru Geto's location, so they could stop him once and for all and avoid the night of the hundred demons.

But how would Suguru react?

Would he look at her with disappointment?

Would he kill her?

Or maybe he would remind her once again that she was no longer his favorite spring?

"I trust you."

He shouldn't trust her, because she didn't even trust herself.

“Suguru… Why, what happened? When did you become what you are now?”

So many questions that kept her up at night.

Yui thought that Suguru wouldn't take her seriously and would just ignore her to talk about something else, but when she saw his crestfallen head she knew he was thinking about it.

Suguru didn't remember much about that time, and a large part of it was due to the defense mechanism he activated to make everything stop hurting, to not let himself be influenced by his feelings. And Suguru became so good at forgetting that he sometimes feared not knowing how to differentiate what he had experienced and what he had not.

What was reality?

He didn't know.

“After the last mission many things became clearer in my head, I began to see everything in a different way. My conception of the world took a random turn,” Suguru still remembered when all started, after his conversation with Yuki. “And it was not an easy process, I spent weeks without sleeping, without eating, without wanting to get out of bed. I was too lazy to breathe, and when I started to think about how I felt it always made me angry, just thinking that I lived in a corrupt world ruled by those monkeys.” Suguru gritted his teeth, his eyes showing an almost ridiculous contempt for the human race.

“You were depressed.” Yui's gaze softened, everything made sense now.

“If you want to give it a name.” Suguru shrugged, he didn't care about the past anymore. “I know that my measures have not been entirely peaceful, but they are sacrifices that I had to make to achieve a social good, a world without curses. I'm not a bad person."

Yui didn't know if he was saying it to her or to himself.

"I'm sorry." Suddenly, she wanted to cry.

"Why?" It had been a long time since Suguru showed real interest in something or someone, but it wasn't just anyone, it was Hayashi Yui, she was special, she always had been.

“For not being there when you needed me.” Yui wanted to hug him, but she didn't do it.

“It happened because it had to be that way.”

Yui wanted to travel back in time and right her wrongs. If only she had tried harder to channel her power she wouldn't have been away that year, she would have attended the mission too. Perhaps Tengen-sama's vessel would still be alive. Perhaps the one who would have fought with Fushiguro Toji would be Yui instead of Suguru. Maybe now everything would be different.

“Do you think there's still a chance for the two of us?” Suguru asked with a very serious expression.

That had caught Yui off guard, and it's not like she hadn't thought about it before, however, she had never come up with a solution. Was she willing to turn her back on everything she knew for Suguru? Or would she give up the love of her life just to stick to what was right?

"Don't know." That was the most sincere she could be.

Suguru was happy, it wasn't a “no” and that was enough.

“If everything goes well, I would like to invite you to dinner at the temple. I want you to meet my family, especially the twins, I think you would get along with them.”

Yui smiled sadly, for a moment she imagined the same scene, but in another context, a mundane context with mundane people, nothing related to the world of sorcery. And once again Yui found herself wishing she was normal.

“Suguru… be careful.” She whispered when she saw him walking slowly towards the door.

“I always am.”

A deja vu was present in the room.

“Don't worry, I know I will win.”

His ambition would be his downfall.

❪∘∘∘❫

It was the rainy morning of December 25, and Yui had not heard news about the incident nor had she bothered to, and this was because she was afraid of dealing with reality.

Her phone rang and Gojo Satoru's name turned off the screen.

Yui let the phone ring a few more times before answering it.

"Yeah?" She bit her nails as she looked out the window at the water droplets refracting against the glass.

“Suguru is dead.”

Thunder fell in the distance and the drizzle increased.

Yui sighed shakily and had to hold on to the nearest wall to avoid spilling onto the floor, at the moment her legs felt very heavy.

“Did you kill him?”

"I did what I have to do." Gojo responded curtly, choosing the right words so his actions wouldn't seem so serious.

“Did he suffer?” One eye blinked faster than the other.

"No. His last words were: look for me in every spring."

Yui removed the phone from her ear and covered her mouth so Gojo wouldn't hear her sobs. She imagined it perfectly, a bloody and messy Suguru with a sweet smile on his thin lips, eyes would probably be closed or looking at the sky. Suguru loved looking up at the sky, especially if it was sunsets.

And there would be no more sunsets for him.

When she composed herself she returned to the call, because she knew that Gojo was still on the line, waiting for her.

“Gojo Satoru, one day I will be the one to end your life. It is a promise". Yui meant it very seriously, and it wasn't something impulsive in the moment, it was something she felt she should do as a matter of honor and not revenge.

Gojo laughed unamusedly.

“I’ll be looking forward to it.”

He hung up and then... silence.

That day it rained heavily.

[sammycutiepie]

◟♡ ˒ HE LOVES YOU IN HIS OWN TWISTED WAY — Renaissance, getō suguru

tags. cult leader geto, reader with female anatomy (she/her), spit, reader refers to geto as "master" several times, clit/tit slapping x1, reader with family trauma, pet names (lamb, sweetheart), finger sucking, unprotected sex + creampie, manipulation/dubcon (if you squint). wc. 4.7K

notes. not the version of geto i enjoy writing the most but i had to explore it anyway, probably ooc geto. thanks for reading kiss kiss.

An hour ago you were free. The wind caressed your face as you ran unrestrained through the tall grass, with each step, your bare feet sinking into the wet mud that sloshed playfully beneath your footsteps.

The terrain led you to the edge of the forest, a sanctuary of majestic trees towering skyward. They were so imposing that they seemed to defy even the sun, the warm rays struggled to filter through the dense tangle of leaves, creating glints of light that danced on the ground and on your cheeks, you had almost forgotten the sensation.

Now, you found yourself imprisoned again. Metaphorically, and perhaps even literally, your hands were held by a red rope, thick enough to hurt your skin. One of Suguru's henchmen had chased and trapped you, throwing your body to the ground a few meters into the forest, just as you caught a glimpse of the road and in the distance, an old minivan. 

Your whole body aches as if a train had run over it, with the skin on your stomach bruised. Although you hadn't had a chance to inspect yourself closely, you were sure there would be bruises on your back and thighs. The man had practically dragged you across the floor as you begged to be released, trying to bribe him with what little money you had.

Another servant helped you clean yourself up. No matter how much you talked to her, begged or sobbed to make her see reason, she just stood silently scrubbing your body harder and harder to remove the dirt. The girl then led you into the bathroom, gently pushed your body inside encouraging you to walk and closed the door behind you.

The bathroom was permeated with the soft fragrance of scented candles resting on the floor, while a dim light gave it an intimate feel. As you looked closely, you noticed a variety of personal care products laid out on the sink: shampoo, liquid soap, perfume... and from how well you knew him, you knew Suguru had chosen each one carefully for you. On the toilet rested an impeccably folded white towel, accompanied by a sort of light, translucent red bathrobe or dress, like a suggestive invitation.

After finishing the bath, the same faithful servant from before indicated that Suguru Geto was waiting for you in his room and seconds later tied your hands as a way to prevent you from trying to run away again. Your feet drag the ground beneath them, walking as slowly as you could to avoid your fearful fate.

The imposing black door in front of you seemed to weigh at least 40 kg, and with your hands bound, opening it became an almost impossible task. Struggling with all your might, you finally managed to push it open with a stifled scream, revealing before your eyes Suguru's spacious room, a place you've been to so many times before. A shiver runs through your body, as he always knew how to make you feel as if you were running out of air. Suguru is sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a book in his hands and was wearing some sort of robe that slipped down his hips, leaving his chest exposed. Behind him, a woman in her thirties was combing his hair. Someone else was performing the task you were supposed to be doing, and you knew that didn't please him at all.

"Look who finally got up the nerve to join us," Suguru says and his eyes slowly rise from the paragraph he's trapped in to deign to look at you, glad to see that you've worn the dress he chose for you.

"Master..." you call him and the expression on Suguru's face seems to relax, his eyelids dropping slowly, his shoulders going back a little widening his chest more.

"You can go now," his words echo in the air and the woman behind him stops brushing his long hair to descend from the bed and bow to his presence. "Remember to close the door on your way out," Suguru reminded her.

She hurried away quietly, not risking a single word that might put him in a bad mood. Now, there were only the two of you left, and that made your throat go dry instantly.

"Come here, my little lamb."

Without being able to think or resist, your feet moved in obedience to his words. Your body was acting on its own, without your consent. Finding yourself in front of Suguru, you could closely appreciate his naked torso with a couple of scars on his pectorals, and a large X-shaped scar marking his chest. Suguru closed the book gently, producing a slight sound before setting it aside. Then, he ordered you to kneel and again unable to refuse, you obeyed. You were shaking like a leaf, your sweaty palms were rubbing uncomfortably against each other, and a couple of beads of sweat were beginning to form on the back of your neck.

"Open your mouth," Suguru commands, tugging with the help of his fingers on your jaw until you're forced to look him in the eye. His voice is like silk itself. It almost seems as if what he is telling you is a request, that you really have a choice not to obey. The feeling that grows inside you thanks to his words is overwhelming and he feels the same. Your body twitches and it forms a wicked smile on his lips. He likes you like this, however, he also likes it when you fight, when you struggle, when you try to escape. That duality of yours is what makes him most curious about you.

Your lips part after long seconds of hesitation, not too late to make him angry but not as fast as he would like either. 

You're not surprised by what he does next since you've been expecting it. Your eyelids drop succumbing to embarrassment as his digits make their way across your mouth, the calloused skin brushing against your tongue making you choke in an involuntary moan.

"That's it." He praises you. "Remember your teeth..."

The taste of his flesh unfolds on your palate, invading it with his presence. The fingers, long and sturdy, almost completely occupy the space in your mouth. Suguru holds them still for a moment, exerting downward pressure, then begins a rocking back and forth motion, curving them downward as if he were fucking your mouth for real though it doesn't take long for him to get excited and push a little deeper inside, seeking to reach the back of your throat. You cough in vain as the pair of intruders block your way, and only manage to choke on your own saliva. Salty tears gather at the edge of your eyes, as desperation takes over your self-control and your fingernails dig into your wrists.

Suguru stops pushing, you mutter something strange that he doesn't care to understand. He curves his body towards you and places his lips on top of your sweaty temples, his breath is warm, his lips wet from you as he continues to kiss your hairline.

"I know you can do it. You've taken my cock before, my fingers aren't that thick, are they?"

You sob in response. His free hand seeks room at the nape of your neck taking hold of your hair where he tangles his fingers and holds your head steady and there he forces you to look at him again.

"Now," he says, again moving his fingers back and forth very slowly, all this without taking those intense brown eyes away from yours. "Make a mess on my fingers, sweetheart, think of it as my cock. You can take it."

A moan escapes your lips, as your stomach twists in knots. You find it almost impossible to maintain eye contact with him, feeling the shame consume you internally, burning like a flame.

"Suck them nice for me, make it nice and wet. I want to slide them in easily when I start playing with you." Your babbles are incoherent, your hands prowling down the length of his clothes. "Do you want to tell me something?" you nod quickly. "Hm okay, what is it?" Suguru drags his soaked fingers away from you, gently strokes your lips with these before making them disappear down your jaw, the wet trail of your own saliva sliding sticky across your skin making you shiver.

"I-I. I'm so sorry, Master Geto-"

The way he smiles makes your stuttering suddenly stop, his fingertips sending shivers through your body as they follow his downward path.

"I know." He pinches one of your nipples hard. "And I know you're going to tell me you're not going to do it again..." You shake your head along with his words so fast you almost make him laugh, adorable, he thinks. "But you said that last time... I guess you don't appreciate enough that you're my favorite."

"I do!"

"You do, huh?"

"Y-yes!" your hands made weak fists trapping the fabric of his robe, your eyes coated with a glittering cloak.

"Have you ever wondered how you would feel if I continued to shatter your confidence over and over again?" he asked in a deep voice. Your gaze split between his eyes and his lips and catching the intent behind your actions this causes an involuntary grunt to escape his lips. "If I were to bite the hand that feeds me, if I were to continue to lie to you over and over again..."

Your hands clasp together in prayer as you look up at him from below. The height difference and the situation you find yourself in make you feel small.

"I-I, I'll do anything to let you know you can trust me again. It's just that I miss my family so much-"

He frowns. "Your family? Do you think it's necessary for me to remind you of how you were treated by your family?"

"I know." Salty tears now run down your cheeks, unable to look at him.

You feel like an ingrate, your mouth leaves a bitter taste and your heart sinks at the triggering memories. Growing up in the villages far from the city was never easy; witnessing monsters tormenting others and, in the same time, tormenting yourself when you were barely four years old. Screaming at the shadows that crept through your room, suffering abuse from your parents and your sister's indifference at not being understood. No one knew what you were talking about...

Then you were locked in a closet until you lost consciousness from screaming, tentacles squeezing your arms and choking your throat. It was only when you became an adult that you realized nothing was going to change. No one understood what you saw so you gave up. Instead of running away, you chose to pretend they didn't exist while they were still there, small as a pixie on your mother's shoulder as she cooked, taking the form of a long, slender figure next to your father...

"I saved you, [name]."

Your eyes rise once more to meet his, his countenance impassive as he watches you weep silently. Your eyelids feel heavy, your eyes burn.

"I won't let it happen again, master," you whisper in a breathy voice, conveying raw sincerity.

You suffered for years until Geto Suguru, the man in front of you, appeared as a deity, being revered as such. He emerged in the firmament riding a bird with majestic white wings, descending just as you were in the field gathering wheat. His family, his loyal followers, offered you safe haven away from those monsters you later discovered are called curses. This man promised you protection in exchange for you to follow him, to believe in him, and you have since decided to take his hand, trusting him fully.

Your sobs don't just move him, they make him hard as stone, especially with your pretty face squeezing against his crotch as you keep apologizing.

"Why don't you think about how it makes me feel that I'm trying to make this place for you a home and you don't appreciate it?" you lick your lips lifting your heavy lashes in his direction again, the salty taste of your tears had reached your mouth. His cold stare makes your chest sink, indifference stabs daggers into you, this is not what you want, you don't want him to be disappointed in you too.

"Please give me another chance, Geto," you plead.

You are somewhat relieved to see the frown on his forehead disappear, his eyes narrow as you receive a smile that doesn't show teeth.

"I want your hands in your lap at all times, [name]. Can you do that for me?" he asks earnestly, his thumbs wiping away the trace of that awful cry.

Your eyes, like those of an innocent deer, open wide. You are always eager to please him, and knowing that his kindness is so great that he is willing to grant you a third chance, you nod excitedly, eager to hear what he is going to say next.

"Just use your mouth. Take it out and all the time keep your hands in your lap, okay?"

Suguru finally stops touching you and lies on his back, his open palms resting on the mattress, as he waits for his instructions to take effect on your clouded mind.

With no hands, the task becomes a bit difficult, though you have an idea of what to do. Clumsily, your teeth hook into the knot of the robe and you tug at it until the garment is fully unfolded around him, causing Suguru to praise you with a hoarse "smart girl'". Likewise, your teeth drag the fabric down each side of his thighs, leaving his lap completely bare to your view.

"May I?"

Oh. Your obedience pleasantly surprises him, fills his heart with a few drops of pride but if you want to earn his forgiveness you'll have to do more than that. Suguru merely shakes his head in approval, a gesture that is all you need to start pleasing him.

Your shy kisses make his cock ache even more. His toes curl, his head drops to one side tousling the long hair that falls loosely down his back and over part of his broad shoulders.

For some time now he has not let others touch him. Ever since he found you there and took you to his home, ever since he bathed you himself, changed your clothes and took you to his chambers he has not allowed himself to touch anyone else sexually, in a certain twisted way this is his way of being faithful to you, after all this is what it means to be his favorite. Maybe it's because he sees something of himself in you, something that died long ago and something that revived inside him that very night or maybe he sees in you something of a certain person he knew before. The line is very thin. The only thing he is sure of is that you are a survivor, you are a fighter and that is what keeps him attached to you. 

And after worrying about how far you had managed to get all day, while his followers searched for you even under the foundations of the temple, having you here worshipping his pretty thick cock makes it hard for him to keep quiet and not cum on your lips the moment your tongue coyly licks the red velvet head.

Why are you so shy tonight? He wonders. Your soft lips are barely touching him, you do it almost fearfully, so it doesn't take him long to change his mind. "Fix your back. Tongue out."

Although there are doubts inside you, you do as he asks without complaint.

Suguru stirs on the bed and takes his own erection in a fist and the action makes you tremble as you wait anxiously for the next move. He forces you to look at him as he strokes himself under your nose, your mouth waters however the moment you lean down to touch him he stops you.

"Ah. Ah— Hold still. Keep your tongue out." He spits on his own fist to fuck the tip, just the tip, wet sounds deafen your eardrums. His balls twitching slightly due to the movement of his hand make you distracted but you focus back on the fist.

Your jaw loses stability from the posture, your own saliva drips over your jaw and falls to your chest.

"Ow sweetheart, you're drooling," he says condescendingly.

You whimper nonetheless refusing to disobey. You hold your position no matter how much it hurts, no matter how much your tongue is now quivering. The soft skin of your jaw slips under a pair of his long fingers where he holds you firmly, then he flicks your tongue with the tip making you feel the full weight of his erection on it. You moan, he asks you to open your mouth wider for him and when you do Suguru slides into your warm mouth so easily it makes him close his eyes and grunt in pleasure.

You receive him inside you with a moan, sucking devotedly and dropping your eyelids giving him permission to use your mouth as he pleases. Before long he releases your jaw to grab the back of your neck with both hands and maintain a steady rhythm in which he pushes unhurriedly inside you, sometimes the tip touches your throat and that makes him chuckle.

In a moment Suguru releases your head. Breathe, he reminds you and you immediately do it as if it were another one of his orders. Your nose inhales new oxygen, breathes in his manly scent and you swallow the excess saliva that had formed in your mouth.

"Get on the bed," Suguru asks, as you recover from the assault and gently pats the empty space beside him.

You feel your legs tremble as you try to stand up, the position had numbed your limbs but you still crawl up to his side. You bite your lip to keep any more of those embarrassing sounds from escaping, his touch sliding down your ribs, tracing them as if they were the canvas of a work of art. Then, his hands go to your navel, right where your dress ends and he lifts the hem, leaving your pussy exposed.

"Master..." You call out to him shyly, though he purposely ignores you. Suguru proceeds to curl his warm tongue around your erect nipples. A thick hand squeezes your other breast, cradling and massaging it, pulling your nipple between his fingers tightly from time to time. "Geto!" you moan his name which makes him look up, his eyes are dark, full of impatience.

"Speak," he commands against your erect nipple, his voice sending vibrations all over your back. 

"Can I touch you?" The question makes your words hum with uncertainty. 

"I don't know... can you, do you think you've earned it?" he asks teasingly and the heat of his breath bristles your skin. You know that behind that rhetorical question is a trap. 

"Only you know if I deserve it," you reply. He smiles pleased finally purring a husky, Yes, you can, sucking hard, swirling his tongue.

Your back arches seeking more of that vice. Your fingers find his mane and tangle in it to tug lightly, pulling him further into you. Suguru stifles his moans on your tits, letting himself be moved at your whim by your hands and chuckling every now and then when you moan because he's biting so hard.

His name becomes the only thing you can say, the only thing occupying your thoughts thanks to his hands working their way down your navel and lower abdomen to end up just above your mons pubis. Suguru feels your arousal overflow through your lips, he plays with the sticky liquid and smiles against your skin as he feels you spread your legs further apart exposing your needy pussy for his fingers.

"You're that eager, huh?" It's a question that gets no answer, since you don't think it's necessary. Your whole body yearns for his touch, screams to feel him touch you where you need it most and release just a little of the tension building inside you.

Blindly his fingers run all over your slit, releasing your wet nipple to sit on his knees and concentrate on what he's doing. 

"That's it. Open wider for me..." The words hadn't quite left his mouth when you were obeying him and he curses in pleasure at your submission.

Suguru slides a finger inside you and your pussy sucks it in so easily that he can't deny himself from pushing in for a second and curving them to find where you feel the most pleasure, the spot where you can't help but cry out.

"Are you going to cum?" He asks and you swallow dryly, blinking rapidly keeping your concentration on the ceiling. "Look at me," Suguru demands slapping one of your tits and you have to look at him this time as you burn inside and out; the burning in your chest brings you back to the present, then you nod and see him smile, pushing deeper inside you and positioning his hand in a way that the raw sound of his fingers fucking your pussy fills your ears and the room so clear. "Who does this pussy belong to?"

"It's yours..." you blurt out at once.

Suguru stops suddenly and your hole closes violently around nothingness, feeling so painfully empty that you have to make a physical effort not to start touching yourself.

"Mine," Suguru repeats again, gently tapping your aching clit and his voice is eager as he speaks again. "Are you planning to run away from me again?"

"N-no!"

"No?" Suguru pauses, grabbing your body suddenly and moving it as he pleases. Your legs wrap around his wide hips and he cages you on top of his body; his arms squeeze your back as he forces you to stay seated on his lap and he pushes to be closer to your face. "How can I believe you?" his voice hits in hot waves against your face.

"I-I. I promise, I promise to never try to run away again." And you wish he could read your thoughts so he could see how sincere you were being. Your whole being belonged to him and his actions tonight had reminded you of that. You were grateful to have a roof over your head, a family and someone to follow.

"Prove it to me then." After nimbly removing the rope Suguru takes your wrists and with one hand places them behind your back, in this strange position where you couldn't hide from him because just like your back your shoulders were pulled back, showing your chest to him. The swollen tip of his cock brushes your wet lips, you knew you weren't stretched out enough for him so when he positions himself at your entrance and pushes, you panic trying to twist your figure away. Suguru shushes you cooing against your temple, the beating of your heart mimicking that of a hummingbird makes him smile against your skin. "Are you afraid?" He questions you knowing the answer, sending shivers down your spine. You shake your head in approval, swallowing the dryness in your throat. "You shouldn't be. When have I ever hurt you?" 

"N-never." Because he was right, you didn't remember him ever hurting you however the current situation didn't take any less tension out of your body. 

"Let me in," Suguru demands with a growl, thrusting some more filling you with terror, your hips flee from him but the pain of your wrists caught in his hand keep you still. Another thrust makes a mess of your pussy, the squelching created by his ever deepening thrusts make humiliation stain your face. 

Finally he had managed to get completely inside you, you felt so full you could barely breathe, this position was not the one you were used to being in as he was always the one on top, thrusting and moving your body as he pleased while you only had to receive and scratch his back. However, you accepted the punishment you were facing from him, Suguru released your hands to push your hips and help you with the first movements. 

"Be a good girl and ride me. Your hands behind your back." You groan in affirmation and have nothing left to do but obey him. Your thighs spread uncomfortably wide from the width of his and your movements are halting because this is not what you are used to doing, and even though you know this doesn't feel entirely pleasurable for either of you you don't stop, he doesn't stop you. 

You're choking on your own breath, broken, ragged moans leaving your ribs empty every time you force yourself up and down on top of him, every time your hips rotate in circles. Exhaustion gets the best of you and with the urge to find support to hold you to, your nails catch on the breadth of his shoulders which makes him grunt, taking your hands and bringing them once more to your back. 

"What did I say?" he asked and your mind was so numb you couldn't answer, your hips exhausted, your legs about to give out yet you forced yourself to keep riding him with what little energy and self-will was left inside you. "What.did.I.say?" repeated Suguru again punctuating each syllable, his patience hanging by a thread, his rough fingers punishing your nipples.

"Please..." you beg with your tongue made of cotton, eyes rolling, not really knowing why you were begging.

Your whole world spins around you, with Suguru's hands squeezing your body he makes your back drop to the mattress which greets you both with a choked sound. Your legs automatically open to meet him in the middle as his hands hook on the headboard to better control his pounding thrusts.

Suguru was directly attacking your g-spot, your hips betraying you by lifting up to seek more of his thrusts, seeking to feel him deeper as your mouth fills with saliva and his name. The view you have from below is almost divine, dark hair falling down his sides like a veil hiding his face, his gaze is like that of an animal full of concentration as desperate grunts that joined the ones on the mattress took over the room. You are sure the others could hear and the thought makes your pussy clench around him. 

Lowering down to your height Suguru moans against your half-open mouth, panting desperately.

"I'm going to cum so deep inside you, you're going to take every last drop." You hasten to nod, agreeing to a statement he wasn't asking about, he was going to do it as a way of marking you, as a way of making sure and making you understand that you were his now, somehow he's sure that fate led him to you and there was no way he could let you go now.

A growl takes over his throat and you feel it soon after, ropes of cum filling you deep as he continues to slowly push inside you, making sure not a single drop slips out, his breath tangling with yours creating swirls. 

"I forgive you." His hips that were still moving calmly thrust one last time, Suguru drops his sweaty forehead onto yours as he breathes through his mouth. "But if you run away again—" 

"I won't." You assure him for perhaps the tenth time that night, not allowing him to finish the threat. Your fingers reach for his hair to massage his skull and Suguru allows you to pull him closer to you, crashing your mouth to his in an intimate kiss that seals a promise. "Do you wish me to leave now, Master Geto?" 

Suguru finally pulls out of you so slowly it feels as if he's doing it against his will. "Stay the night," he murmurs, trapping your body close to his, making you prisoner to his strong arms as he kisses what he can reach of the sweaty skin on your shoulders and neck. "Call me Geto... just Geto or Suguru." After all, more than his faithful servant Suguru saw your potential early on, you are the one. He just has to teach you to obey.

[sammycutiepie]

cursed love

chapter 1

pairing: suguru geto x fem!reader

word account: 4.0k

synopsis: When Yui returns after a year she finds that everything had changed, Suguru had changed, he had become a complete stranger. Promises were broken, like fragile threads broken by the weight of disappointment. The darkness had invaded all love, cursing it forever.

author's note: Hiii this is the first time I have uploaded something to this platform and I'm really excited that this is precisely my first job. I've been fantasizing about this story for quite some time now, literally every time I went to sleep. I plan to make a short but emotional story, I want that through Yui's character we can create a kind of connection with Suguru and come to understand him. I hope you like it!

“Suguru!” Yui ran and pounced on the body of the black-haired man, who, it should be noted, was already prepared and with his arms open.

Suguru laughed sweetly as he heard her murmur into his neck how much she missed him, followed by all kinds of cheesy and endearing words. He hugged her waist and brought her closer to his morphology, seeking more contact, more intimacy, and he knew that Yui felt the same way when he felt her tremble with emotion. Suguru was still surprised at how much he could feel for a person, both physically and emotionally. Yui was everything to him, their personalities complemented each other based on their needs, they shared the same ideals and sense of justice, even their cursed techniques were compatible, if there was such a thing as soulmates, Suguru was sure that Yui was his.

“Why do you always have to be so loud?” Gojo lowered his glasses just a little so he could see more clearly the pathetic little romantic scene between his best friend and his girlfriend.

Yui didn't pay attention to what Gojo had said, and how could she when her entire world was in front of her? She separated from Suguru only to take his beautiful face in her hands, and then she dedicated herself to scrutinizing every tiny detail and imperfection in that face that she loved so much, trying to compile everything in her memory, since she had to be gone for a full year towards a spiritual retreat.

Her last mission had been a complete chaos, her powers went out of control and she caused scandals by not having put up a protective curtain. Her uncle, Yaga Masamichi, at the request of the bigwigs was forced to send her to another continent, where she would be under the tutoring of shamans specialized in cursed techniques, all with the aim of perfecting her powers and avoiding a greater disaster.

Yui was a little depressed, because even though she understood the seriousness of the situation and how necessary this retreat was for her, she couldn't help but feel bad when imagining herself separated from Suguru for such a long term.

Even though they lived together and studied in the same place, they hadn't had much time alone lately, and she knew she had to get used to it, it was a vile paradox, the more time passed the less they could enjoy it. This was the life of sorcerers. There was always a risk, death followed them on bloody bare heels, security and stability were not options in that world.

Yui loved her job, but sometimes, just sometimes, she wanted a normal life.

“Suguru, let's eat sweet curry with apples.” Yui said this with the intention of annoying Gojo, because that was what their relationship was based on, it was a kind of healthy and reciprocal bullying.

“With extra honey?” Suguru asked, picking up on his lover's playful intentions.

“Yeah, just the two of us.”

“Why are you making plans without me?” Gojo felt offended, because it was more or less his favorite dish, that was a vile betrayal.

“You've had Suguru for a long time! It's not fair. I will talk to my uncle to assign you to go on separate missions.” Yui clung to Suguru's right arm like an infant to her mother's.

"Good luck with that, I've heard that Yaga isn't very happy with you." Gojo alluded to the reason why she was leaving.

Hayashi Yui, second year student of the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College and first grade sorceress. Her cursed technique consists of controlling curses, manipulating and directing their cursed energy to her will. Unlike Geto Suguru, who can also control curses, Yui possesses a deeper and more sentimental approach. While Suguru uses curses as destructive weapons, Yui seeks to understand and master curses, influencing them to try to change its primitive nature. Yui focuses on the emotional connection, she understands that curses are beings trapped in a cycle of hatred and suffering, and seeks to free them from that burden through her control.

The acquisition ritual involves gaining an empathic connection with the curse you wish to obtain. To achieve this, Yui undergoes an intense trance where she mentally connects with the curse. As she deepens the trance, her consciousness merges with that of the curse, allowing her to understand its origin, motivations and way of acting; Once the connection is established, Yui has complete power over the curse.

Suguru absorbs curses orally, and Yui does so through a special necklace that she has worn on her neck since birth, a family heirloom that has been passed down from generation to generation.

However, manipulating curses is a complicated art; if Yui fails to maintain a stable connection with the curse, it can rebel and become uncontrollable, even possessing her and seriously harming her. Additionally, the internal fighting process can be exhausting, limiting the number of curses she can control at once and the duration of her mastery.

“Have you been meditating as I told you?” She could hear the concern in Suguru's voice.

“Meditating is boring.” The voices of curses came to overwhelm her so much that she completely lost her attention and concentration.

“If you don't have discipline, how do you plan to have self-control? You should start internalizing that so that the retreat is not in vain.”

Yui hated that Suguru had a perfectly logical answer for everything, but she also loved him for it.

“I know, but it's difficult. I don’t like doing it without you.” Everything was always easier and more enjoyable with Suguru present.

“That's not an excuse, you take a big risk during your rituals.”

Yui didn't like the look Suguru was giving her, he looked so serious and cold, it scared her and made her feel like she was doing something wrong.

“I've only been possessed once.” For some reason, that comment had sounded very clever in her head.

“And it doesn't seem serious enough to you? If it has happened once, what assures you that it will not happen again? You are not only a threat to yourself, but also to others. You must be responsible for your actions and become aware of the magnitude of your power.” It sounded like Suguru was scolding her, and Yui really despised being treated like a child.

“Curses don't control me, I control them. That incident only happened because it was a special grade curse and I was not familiar with that class at the time.” If there was something that characterized Hayashi Yui, it was her great pride and her inability to recognize her mistakes.

Suguru noticed her defensive attitude and hugged her lovingly, taking advantage of the difference in height to inhale the sweet aroma of her hair. God, how he would miss that stubborn brat.

“I'm just saying that with great power comes great responsibility. I want you to take the spiritual retreat as something serious that will help you grow individually and professionally. I'm not lecturing you or telling you what to do, I just want the best for you. Ensuring your safety is the most important thing to me.”

Could Yui love that man more? No, definitely not.

“You are unable to control your own powers, that's pitiful. It can be said that you have failed as a sorceress, I don't even understand how you are classified as first grade.” Gojo interrupted the tender moment.

“Not as pitiful as your face.”

“Well, your sister doesn't think that.”

"I do not have a sister." Yui argued with a frown.

“If you had one, I'm sure she would be at my feet, just like everyone else.”

“Narcissistic bitch.” Yui smiled amused, she would really miss that asshole with superiority issues.

“If you had this face you would be one too.”

Suguru just watched them in silence, used to being a mere spectator during these types of childish fights.

“This girl, Tengen-sama's vessel… is she cute?” Yui suddenly asked.

"Why do you ask that?" Suguru didn't understand until he saw the discreet blush on Yui's face, she was jealous.

“If my boyfriend is going to spend the next few weeks taking care of a strange girl, I deserve to know what she looks like.” Yui defended herself, crossing her arms and raising one of her eyebrows to look intimidating when in Suguru's eyes she only looked more adorable.

“The girl on the subway wouldn't make jealous scenes like this, I told you that you should have asked her for her number.” Gojo brought a controversial comment into the conversation.

“What subway girl?”

“Satoru is teasing you.” Suguru sighed, patting his best friend's head superficially.

“Anyway, why should you guys protect her? We are sorcerers, not bodyguards.”

“It's a little more complicated, Yui.” Suguru tried to reason with her.

"I am aware." Her uncle had informed her of the situation, in fact, the initial plan also included Yui in the mission, but the results of her latest mishap changed the course of events. “However, I still don't understand why you two are going alone.”

“Because we are the strongest.” Gojo replied with his chest puffed out with confidence.

“I don't have a good feeling.” Yui said, touching her necklace and feeling the enormous amount of cursed energy coming out of it.

“You never have a good feeling.” Suguru grimaced a little.

“It's because I don't want to lose you.” She confessed without further ado, her eyes taking on a layer of sadness and heartbreak.

She had already lost her parents, she couldn't lose Suguru too. Not Suguru.

“You won't lose me.” He adjusted Yui's bangs so that they weren't in the way of her view, he knew how much she got irritated when that happened.

“Do you promise you'll be here when I get back? Promise it, tell me you’ll be alive.” Yui knew she was speaking crudely, but it was how she felt, and she had never been good at hiding her feelings.

Suguru could sense her fear and that made his own heart ache, the connection between them was on another level.

“I'll be here, waiting for you, as always. Everything will remain the same, nothing will change. Do you trust me?" Suguru took Yui and kissed her forehead protectively.

"I love you." That was her response.

“Yui, if you asked me to describe love in one word I would say your name. And I love you in the craziest way possible, and in manners that I never thought existed, and that's the great thing about being by your side, you make me believe that anything is possible. Every day I learn something new from you, I discover a thousand unknown universes in your eyes, and my ears melt when I hear your honey voice. You are my favorite spring, my dream come true, the song I can't stop listening to. I would recognize you in every past life and in the following, because you are the one and only true love of my life. I want everything with you, a future, a house, a family, I want my children to have your smile and that funny expression you make when I talk to you about something you don't understand. So you can rest assured that I will not leave this world without first achieving all those things, okay?”

Yui knew that Suguru couldn't guarantee all that considering the kind of life they both had. But for that moment she decided to ignore all that and be happy, in that moment it was just them, Suguru and Yui, a normal boy and a normal girl fantasizing about worldly things.

She pulled him to her lips and they shared a bittersweet kiss that tasted like a “see you soon,” and not a “goodbye,” and that was enough, it was more than enough.

“You guys are so disgusting.” Gojo placed a hand over his mouth, as if he was going to throw up.

“You're just jealous.” Yui stuck her tongue out at him and ruffled his white hair.

“Of course not, why would I want a relationship? "That's a waste of time." Gojo had never considered such a thing as a relationship, he was the strongest, he had responsibilities to the wizarding world and his clan, he couldn't afford to carry the burden of caring for someone else, and to be honest, he didn't even care.

“That is why you will be left alone, four eyes.”

“They are six!” Gojo protested, indignant.

“Will you be careful?” Yui had to ask regardless.

“Of course, like always, plus I'm with Satoru.”

“That doesn't give me much security, Satoru is impulsive and always gets involved in suicidal situations.”

Gojo had the instinct to contradict her, but after thinking about it he knew that he had no choice but to accept the exposed reality.

"Yui!"

The named girl turned around and saw her uncle waiting for her in front of a limousine with all her luggage.

It was time. Her hands began to shake from anxiety and nerves.

Suguru intertwined his hands with hers and smiled at her in that way that was so typical of him, his slanted eyes turned into two half-moons.

“Have confidence in yourself, I know you can do it.”

Yui nodded, now determined and full of encouragement. She said goodbye to the pair of friends for the last time with a knot in her stomach.

And as she walked towards her new destination she thought about Suguru's words.

Everything would remain the same.

Nothing would change.

Suguru had said it, and Suguru never lied.

Right?

❪∘∘∘❫

Once again before her eyes was the school, her happiness was so much that she couldn't stop smiling, and even though the corners of her mouth hurt it didn't matter, because she was minutes away from meeting the person who had kept her sane and motivated throughout the time she had spent away. When she entered she was surprised to notice the desert, and it was true that there weren't many students, but for some reason, everything felt emptier.

Yui walked towards her uncle's office, and the closer she got, the more horrified she became. She was hearing screams through the walls, and they weren't from just anyone, it was Gojo Satoru's voice, and he sounded angry, Gojo Satoru was never angry, she hurried over and found them in the middle of the hallway, in what seemed like halfway of a discussion.

“Yui.” Yaga's eyes widened, tired lines decorating his forehead from stress.

"Everything's fine?" Yui's anxiety was reflected in the constant clicking of her foot against the wood of the floor, she dropped her luggage and approached the pair with anxiety disguised as curiosity.

Of course nothing was right, her uncle wore a heartbroken and crestfallen expression, his posture did not look confident and intimidating like it always did. And Gojo, he was unrecognizable, he was evading her presence in a very forced way, a sad grimace overshadowing his typical shameless smile.

Alarm bells went off in Yui's head.

Something bad had happened. Something very bad.

“I need to talk to you about something serious.” Yaga cleared his throat, not knowing where he should start, seriously considering a correct way to break the news, when there was no correct way.

“Where is Suguru?” The question came out loud after being decoded in her mind.

Yui did not go unnoticed by his relative's body language. At the mention of her boyfriend, he swallowed and avoided eye contact.

"Let's talk first."

“We will, just let me look for Suguru, I need to see him.” Yui was going to take another step when Yaga shouted her name seriously, and then she had her confirmation, it was Suguru, something had happened to Suguru, to her Suguru.

"Read this." Yaga handed her a stack of documents.

Yui took the reports and began reading almost immediately, her heart was racing in her chest with each new piece of information her brain acquired, her hands were shaking like jelly, and her legs were in no better condition. By the time she finished, Yui felt on the verge of a panic attack, she wanted to bite off her nails and rip off her tongue until it exploded with blood, until she felt something other than confusion right now.

"What is this?"

"Just what you read, it's all true.” Yaga confirmed.

"Shut up!"

Gojo and Yaga looked genuinely surprised, Yui never raised her voice at anyone, she was always so polite and respectful.

“Suguru is not a murderer. This is a lie… they are lying. You're lying!" She had officially panicked, suddenly she felt an invisible rope settle in her throat and not let her breathe.

“I would like to be wrong, but it's the truth. Geto Suguru is a fugitive and has been sentenced to death.”

The word “death” followed by Suguru's name made Yui lose her temper.

"No! What did you do? How did this happen?”

Yui peppered Gojo with questions, she rushed towards him and began to hit his chest without force to take out her anger.

"Where were you?"

A hit.

“Why did you let him do this?”

Another one.

“Everything was supposed to stay the same, nothing would change.” Yui fell to the ground and began to cry uncontrollably, her cursed energy felt at its limit, for a minute Yaga was afraid that it would get out of control and destroy the entire place.

“Yui.” Gojo tried to comfort her, but she patted his hand before he could touch her.

“Don't come near me.” She growled at him with bloodshot eyes. “You didn't protect him, you're a shitty friend.”

That was enough, Gojo couldn't take it anymore. He would take any insult, but he would never allow himself to be labeled as a bad friend. It hadn't been his fault that Suguru had made bad decisions, nor had it been his fault that he hadn't realized that Suguru had been depressed. He had been busy all the time, plus he wasn't a fucking psychologist, he wasn't even an observant person.

Does he knew it wasn't his fault?

Yeah.

And despite knowing it, he punished himself for it?

Also.

“Suguru is a murderer. Get over it and stop acting like a fucking little girl, you're not the only one who's suffering.”

Yui gained momentum and stood up at lightning speed with the sole objective of slapping Gojo Satoru's boastful face, and she succeeded, and yes, indeed, it felt as good as she had imagined.

“Don't you dare to lie about him.”

“Yui, that's enough.” Yaga intervened when he saw that things were getting out of hand.

Yui screamed loudly and covered her ears. The voices, the curses did not stop, they made a lot of noise, they were making fun of her.

“You don't understand, I'm sure he had his reasons. No, I know, someone is manipulating him, it's not his fault. I… I will make amends, I will find him and this misunderstanding will be resolved, Suguru will return and everything will be fine, everything will be as before.” Yui had a flurry of possible theories that didn't make her look very sane.

“You're being delusional.” Yaga was worried about his niece's health.

Gojo answered an incoming call.

“Shoko… this is not a good time.”

Yui frowned as she heard Satoru swallow a gasp, whatever Shoko had said had gotten to him. Instinctively, her mind related it to Suguru, and she only needed to share a look with Gojo to confirm it.

“I'll be there in five minutes.” He hung up and focused his intense blue eyes on Yui. "Come with me."

❪∘∘∘❫

Yui heard the confrontation between those who were once inseparable. She still had a hard time assimilating what was happening, her head hurt like hell and she really wanted to throw up. Everything was so confusing, she felt like she was under the effects of a hallucinogenic substance, far from reality.

When she witnessed Suguru give signs of leaving, she came out of the shadows to confront him.

“Suguru.” She spoke with her voice weaker than ever.

Suguru's peripheral vision focused in her direction, distinguishing his lover from all the people passing by around him. Yui was there, looking as fragile as ever, like an unripe flower bud.

It had been so long, he didn't even have time to think that her return would be soon. And he was so happy, elated, Yui had arrived at the perfect time, now she could reign at his side, she would help him create his sorcerer's paradise.

“Yui. I'm glad to see you." Suguru smiled and raised his hand in a salute, as if nothing had happened, as if with that same hand he had not murdered his parents and hundreds of other people.

Yui experienced a secondary emotion, it was rage, anger bubbled in each of her arteries, shooting her blood into overdrive. She was sure that her face must have been very red and very, very haggard, because since she had arrived she had not stopped crying.

“Tell me it's a farce, please tell me someone made you do all that.” She was begging him, she just needed to get on her knees.

Even if Suguru had done those horrible things, Yui was willing to forgive him, between the two of them they would find a way to get rid of the problems, and Yui knew that Gojo would also join the plan.

Suguru's features hardened, and suddenly his eye orbs changed, he was looking at her like never before, in an empty, dark and soulless way, Yui hugged herself in an attempt to stop her shivers.

Who was that distant and cruel person?

“I know you didn't do it in your own free will. We can solve this, you just have to come with me and…”

“Yui, this is me.” Suguru said with a thick and discouraged voice. How could she, of all people, be so blind?

Yui opened her mouth to close it again shortly after, her mind was blank, she didn't know what to do, she was sleepy, she was tired, she just wanted to faint and wake up from that nightmare.

“I finally feel like I have a purpose in life.”

Yui wanted to hit him. God, she wanted to beat him until he got those absurd ideas out of his head.

“And what is that purpose? Become a genocide? Will you become what you hated? The Suguru Geto I know would never hurt the weak ones.” Yui was really convinced that if she talked to him, that if she made him see reason, that if she said the right things, Suguru would magically repent.

“This is who I am now, and if you want to be with me you will have to accept it.” Suguru said confidently, proud of what he had become. “You don't understand, I will create a new era, it will be a new world for both of us, a new beginning.” He told that with so much emotion, his ecstasy was so much that it fueled a demonic smile on his lips.

“I look at your face and I see the man I fell in love with, but I don't recognize him in your words.”

The tears fell without stopping.

Tears of disappointment.

Tears of suffering.

Tears of heartbreak.

“What you say is crazy.”

“What a disappointment, I thought you would understand me, but I was wrong. You are like the others. You don’t take me seriously.” Rejection and disgust were the protagonists on Suguru's face.

“It's not about that… Suguru, I didn't change.” Yui brought up the promise from a year ago.

“I did.” After saying these last merciless words, he turned his back on them, illegally ending the meeting.

"Don't do it, if you take one more step you will be accepting the accusations, you will be that monster they want to execute." Yui seriously hoped that her influence would have an effect on him, but it didn't, her hopes were broken, as was her heart.

“I woke up from the dream, Yui. There are no more songs. And, above all, spring is over.” Suguru uttered that brutal ultimatum and then continued his walk through the busy streets of Shinjuku.

Finally what Yui had feared so much happened.

The meaning of her name made sense.

She had been left alone.

[sammycutiepie]

Don't Let Me Shine

by Wagimoko Buy a copy

Behold! Daddy's throbbing cock was compelled to momentarily deviate from its Satosugian proclivities at the sight of Megumi's tight little hole ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡). Pull out your anal beads and finger yourself while Satoru gobbles up the twink's delightful squirties and cummies (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈). Enjoy this cumworthy power imbalance between Toji's offspring and Suguru's grooming grieving lover!

START CUMMING ･:｡(ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀) ⁼³₌₃⁼³

Request access to the cumplete doujin HERE and let Gumi's insemination cummence! (꜆꜄ ˃ ³ ˂)꜆꜄꜆ ♡

More Jujutsu Kaisen cummies @satussy ♡

[sammycutiepie]

“This time, it’s my turn…” (L -> R)

based on chapter 236

i should start using this account more huh 🙃

(also i spotted a bunch of mistakes when i uploaded this on twitter, so enjoy the edited version lskdjfld)

[sammycutiepie]