#/please please let me know if you need anything changed!!

[pochaccoups]

cw — dry humping, making out, handjob, pet names ‘baby’ and ‘pretty girl’, best bf cheol (minors dni)

It’s a confession you make half-hoping Seungcheol doesn’t hear you: “you’re so hard. Let me jerk you off.”

You say it in the heat of the moment, utter it against his lips, reluctant partly because it’s perverted, it’s obscene, and it’s just utterly desperate of you, and partly also because you’re supposed to be taking it slow with him. You’ve had too many relationships go to shit when you fucked them right off the bat and found out after that you’d had nothing in common. Then you met Choi Seungcheol, who seemed a little too good to be true, and from the moment you’d told him you didn’t want to rush into any kind of intimacy just yet, he was more careful with your boundaries than you yourself.

For the last God-knows-how-long though, you’d sat in his lap, rutting yourself against him while he stole your breath with his lips, and fuck, he’s so hard against you that you think it must hurt, and he’s your boyfriend, so why wouldn’t you help him out?

When you say it, he tugs you away from him by your neck, not harsh or rough at all but rather in the way that everything he does has an air of dominance. He stares at you with hardened features, his attempt to appear stern betrayed only slightly by his kiss-swollen lips and cherry red cheeks, and yet you’re not afraid to persist.

“I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret,” he says, so soft and low that he could lull you to sleep.

“It’s fine, Cheol. It won’t even count because you’re not putting it inside,” you say with a shrug and a grin.

Seungcheol has never felt so torn in his life. He wants to build up tension slowly with you until you trust him, until you’re certain that you’re ready to go all the way with him, to take the next step and bare yourself to him. Saying no to you is impossible though, especially when you make him want to give you the entire world. He’s also so, so hard, and his only options are to give in to you or jerk himself off in the bathroom alone.

His thumb traces over your bottom lip, his boner growing worse from the soft suppleness of it, from the batting of your lashes, from the carnal gleam in your eyes. Fuck it, he thinks. You’re the one who wanted it in the first place, anyway.

“Alright,” he says, and he already sounds out of breath, like the mere thought of your hand around him is enough to make him lose his mind. (It is.)

He starts to shift beneath you, simultaneously grasping your waist to reposition you ever so slightly as he pulls his sweats a few inches down his hips while your ardent fingers help him along. “But the second you wanna stop, we stop, okay?”

“Not gonna wanna stop,” you say, humming. Seungcheol pauses and stares at you, unamused. It makes you roll your eyes. “God, okay, I’ll tell you if I wanna stop. Now can I touch your dick, please?”

He narrows his eyes at you in faux doubt, only to wink at you and finally push his boxers down enough to let his cock spring free.

You feel your insides literally warm at the sight of it. It’s darkened pink, veiny, long, and girthier than anything you’ve ever seen. How can you not think about how it would feel inside you, stretching you out? Because God knows it would stretch you out. You’re pretty sure you’ll need several weeks of foreplay for him to fit.

“Cheol, you’re huge…” you say before you can stop yourself, growing suddenly timid.

“Good thing I’m not putting it inside then, hm?” says Seungcheol, chuckling a little.

He notices the shift in your eyes—it’s not hesitation, you’re just stunned. His hand soothes up and down your back, a silent reminder to take your time. For a split second his heart drops when he thinks maybe you’ve changed your mind about this, about him, and then your hand reaches for his length.

“Can I?” you ask. So polite, as if you’ve never done anything like this before. It makes Seungcheol want to smother you with kisses.

“Please,” he replies, only hoping it’s not too desperate.

The relief when your fingers finally grasp him makes Seungcheol’s shoulder sag, and he finds himself sinking further into the couch when your thumb swirls over his reddened cockhead. Beads of precum drool from his slit and you smear them all over his tip, smirking softly when Seungcheol’s breath hitches in his throat.

With your bottom lip between your teeth to stop yourself from making an embarrassing noise, you start to pump his member slowly. You drool at the heaviness of it, at the way your fingers don’t touch as they wrap around him, at Seungcheol’s tiny noises as he inhales and exhales.

“Think you could spit on it for me?” he asks and his voice has dropped about three octaves now. He’s careful with his words, wanting nothing but for you to do things on your own accord.

He has to stop himself from cumming on the spot when you give a nod and a sweet smile before bending forward to let a dollop of spit drop from your pretty lips and land perfectly on his tip.

“Show me how you like it, Cheol,” you say. His heart skips several beats and he wishes he could record your words and listen to them again and again. Fuck, you’re perfect. He already knew that, knew it after about two weeks of knowing you, but you just keep affirming it for him and he wonders if you know your effect on him.

Seungcheol’s hand is warm as it engulfs yours. His grip is much tighter—painful even, you would think, but as he starts guiding your hand up and down with vigour, he throws his head back and moans, and you can’t help the way your pussy aches at the sound.

He shows you exactly how he likes it: tight, and with a flick of the wrist to swirl around his tip.

“God, fuck, baby, that’s it,” he grunts and bucks his hips into your hand.

Heat creeps up the back of your neck. There’s a dash of timidness you get from being this intimate with Seungcheol for the first time, although it’s not even you who’s exposed, and then there’s desire. Wild, burning lust. He’s the hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on, and he’s falling apart in your hands.

“Your cock’s so pretty, Cheollie,” you say. His already dark eyes have grown impossibly darker, riddled with want as they flicker between your intertwined fingers around his cock, and your face. “Can’t wait to have it in my mouth.”

“F-fuck, didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth, pretty girl,” he moans, quickening your pace. His precum leaks all over your fingers, so wet that there’s an audible slick sound with every pump up and down.

“Only for you,” you say, and your gaze falls to his glistening lips, and you’re moving absentmindedly towards them until you’re kissing him. It’s even messier than before, more breathless, like neither of you are holding back your wanting anymore. Your tongue licks against his shamelessly. You’re hungry for him. He settles a hand at the nape of your neck, drawing you closer to him so that he can kiss you so hard your head starts to spin.

You’re not sure when you’d started grinding on him again, rutting your crotch over his hard thigh like a dog, but you can’t find it in yourself to feel ashamed of yourself when Seungcheol’s chest is starting to heave, his moans are growing more frequent, and his cock is throbbing against your hand.

“You’re twitching, Cheol. Are you gonna cum?” you tease, your cunt fluttering.

“Yeah, ’m close,” he says through gritted teeth.

And he’s certainly honest, because a few more strokes and he’s giving a deep, guttural groan and cumming in thick, milky white spurts all over his hoodie. His blissed out face is a sight to behold, although he doesn’t let you do so in favour of pulling you in for another kiss, one that’s soft and chaste this time.

Choi Seungcheol’s duality will kill you one day.

“Did so good for me, baby, thank you,” he says, giving you his sugary smile. “I’m gonna go… uh, change real quick and then I’ll return the favour, yeah?”

“Wh- return the favour? But- that- I wanted to help you out, though, so it’s fine!” you stutter, and he’s already plucked you off his lap like you’re weightless and stood up to his feet.

“Baby,” he says, taking your hand. “I felt you grinding all over my leg. Let me take care of you like you did for me.”

[pbaz7]

AGAINST THE TIDE: PART SEVEN

paige x azzi

warnings: mention of drug use, sexual content

word count: 8.3k

A/N: This chapter has a few different time jumps so don’t skip over the dates lmao or you might think things are moving a little fast. Everyone’s been asking for this so here it is 🫣. I know emotions are going to be all over the place reading this one so please humor me with some live reactions 😭

—————————————————————————

February 2022

It had been about a month of the same awkward, unspoken limbo between Paige and Azzi. To anyone with eyes, it was painfully obvious the two of them liked each other—more than liked each other—but neither had made an outward move. They didn’t need to say it out loud to know why. Things between them would be complicated, and complications weren’t something either of them could afford right now.

Azzi was back on the court, fully cleared and playing with the same intensity she had before she got injured. Paige, meanwhile, was still stuck on the sidelines, a couple of weeks away from her own return. She hadn’t let that stop her from being Azzi’s biggest supporter, though. If anything, she threw herself into it even more—watching film with Azzi late into the night, breaking down plays for her, doing anything she could to make her job easier on the court. They had also gotten back into the habit of going to the gym together all the time at all hours of the night.

Overall their routine hadn’t changed much, but something beneath it had. The soft flirting they used to do had picked up and Paige quickly learned just how handsy Azzi was, how affectionate she was, how she would purposefully bite her lip while looking up at Paige. For Paige, it was becoming almost physically painful to be around Azzi without saying something—without telling her just how much she liked her. It was there in the way her heart raced when Azzi laughed, in the way her chest ached when their hands brushed accidentally. But every time the words hovered on the tip of her tongue, she swallowed them back down, convincing herself it wasn’t the right time. Knowing they had a silent agreement.

Azzi, for her part, seemed oblivious to how much Paige was feeling—or maybe she was just better at hiding it. Hiding just how much she felt too. She was her usual steady self, focused and unflappable, though there were moments when her gaze lingered on Paige just a little too long, or her smile softened in a way that felt almost too tender.

Now, as they sat in Paige’s dorm, that same quiet tension hung between them. The TV played in the background, but neither of them was paying attention. Azzi’s fingers absentmindedly played with Paige’s, a habit that had started sometime over the past few months and somehow became a comfort for both of them. Paige’s gaze dropped to their hands, watching the way Azzi’s fingertips traced the curves of hers.

Something about it—about her—felt so intimate, so significant in Paige’s life—that made Paige’s heart race and ache all at once. Her eyes hesitantly drifted to Azzi’s face, taking in the way her soft smile lit up the room. It was the kind of smile Azzi always gave her, warm and easy, but this time Paige’s stomach flipped, her heart pounding harder.

Azzi noticed the shift in her demeanor immediately, her smile faltering slightly as her brows knitted together. “What’s up, P?” she asked gently, tilting her head to study Paige’s expression.

Paige’s lips parted as if to answer, but no words came out. She turned her gaze away, her heart hammering too loudly in her chest for her to think straight. “It’s nothing,” she muttered, shaking her head.

Azzi’s fingers stilled against hers, and she shifted closer, her tone soft but persistent. “Hey… talk to me. What’s going on?”

Paige hesitated, glancing down at their hands again. She exhaled a shaky breath before finally lifting her eyes to meet Azzi’s. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Az, do you like me?”

Azzi froze, her breath catching at the unexpected question they had been dancing around. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say, completely caught off guard by the fragile, hesitant way Paige had asked. Her heart stuttered as she processed the weight behind the words.

“Of course I like you, Paige,” she finally said, her voice soft but steady.

Paige bit her lip, her gaze dropping for a moment before she looked back at Azzi, her eyes searching. “Then why don’t we ever talk about it?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly.

Azzi blinked, struggling to find the right words. She glanced away, running her thumb over Paige’s knuckles before meeting her gaze again. “Because I’m scared,” she admitted quietly.

Paige’s brow furrowed, her chest tightening. “Scared of what?”

Azzi hesitated, her own heart racing now. She could feel the vulnerability in her chest, raw and exposed, but something about the way Paige looked at her—so open, so unsure—made her want to be completely honest.

“I’m scared of how you make me feel,” Azzi said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m 19 and I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. It’s like… it’s like I’ve known you my entire life. Like everything before UConn, me not being able to stand the sight of you, you being the rudest person I’d met didn’t happen. And that scares me, P. It scares me that all I remember about you now is this charming, sweet, beautiful version of you that I just got to know.”

Paige’s lips parted slightly, her breath catching as Azzi’s words washed over her.

Azzi looked down at their hands, her voice trembling slightly. “But I’m also scared that if I admit why I feel this way… if something goes wrong… I’ll lose you. And you’re not just… this person I like, Paige. You're not just one of my teammates. You’re my best friend and I can’t mess that up.”

The confession hung in the air, making the air heavy. Paige’s heart clenched, her throat tightening as she processed Azzi’s words. Paige’s lips curved into a small, nervous smile, her cheeks faintly flushed as she tightened her grip on Azzi’s fingers. Her voice was soft, almost timid, as she said, “I like you too, Az.”

Azzi’s lips twitched into a smile, the corners quirking up slightly. She tilted her head, a playful yet knowing glint in her eyes. “I know you do,” she whispered, her tone light but her gaze warm, almost tender.

Paige let out a soft, breathy laugh, but it quickly faded as her mind went elsewhere. Her gaze flickered to Azzi’s lips for the briefest moment before her eyes found hers again. “I really want to kiss you. I always want to kiss you,” she admitted, her voice barely audible, as if saying it too loudly might shatter the delicate moment between them.

Azzi’s fingers stilled against Paige’s. For a second, the idea tempted her, pulling at her heartstrings, imagining how soft Paige’s lips would be against hers, but she exhaled slowly and shook her head gently. “We can’t, P,” she said softly, her tone firm but kind.

Paige’s brows furrowed slightly, and Azzi didn’t miss the flicker of hurt that flashed in her eyes. It was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, but it lingered enough to twist something in Azzi’s chest.

Paige looked down at their hands, her voice quiet but insistent as she voiced the real reason neither of them ever mentioned their feelings. “Teammates date all the time, Az. It’s not like it would be a big deal.”

Azzi gave her a sad smile, squeezing her hand lightly. “But they also break up all the time,” she said softly. “And then things get weird all the time. And someone ends up having to leave, most of the time.”

Azzi paused, glancing away as if gathering her thoughts. When she looked back at Paige, her gaze was steady, though her voice remained gentle. “I like it here, P. I like it here with you. With the team. And…” She hesitated for a moment before continuing, “I’ve wanted this—playing at UConn—since I was a kid. It was all I dreamed of and I don’t want to lose that.”

Paige’s lips parted as if to respond, but Azzi beat her to it.

“I don’t want to lose you, either,” Azzi said, her voice quiet but earnest.

Paige’s chest ached at the sincerity in Azzi’s words, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. Then, her lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile. “Who said it would be you that left?” she asked softly.

Azzi’s expression softened even further, her eyes locking with Paige’s. She shook her head slightly, her voice calm and sure. “You’re Paige Bueckers,” she murmured. “It’s gonna be me.”

The words hung in the air between them, the few words saying everything Azzi didn’t need to explain. Paige hummed quietly, her lips pressing into a thin line before she leaned forward, resting her cheek gently on Azzi’s head.

That was all Azzi needed to say as their conversation tapered off, the silence that followed filled with unspoken understanding. Both of them knew what was at stake, and though it hurt, there was a quiet agreement between them—a fragile truce between their hearts and their reality.

Azzi’s hand returned to Paige’s, her fingers resuming their slow, absent-minded play. Paige’s gaze flickered toward the TV, though she wasn’t really watching the movie anymore as her mind wandered. She sighed softly, letting herself relax against Azzi as she kissed the top of her head.

April 2022

It was April now, and the season had officially come to an end. They lost in the championship, though no one talks about that. They’re all just trying to move on and enjoy the time they have left with the seniors. The two of them had barely spoken about their feelings for one another since the night in Paige’s dorm. Nothing had changed between them, but at the same time, everything felt different. The way Paige looked at Azzi with her blue eyes made her breath catch in her throat everytime and every time she would play it off by pushing Paige’s face away mumbling something she would never clarify. Paige was basically whipped and would do anything Azzi asked without hesitation and everyone noticed.

Now, they were lying in Azzi’s room, the faint hum of Paige’s playlist filling the quiet space. Paige was stretched out on her stomach, scrolling aimlessly on her phone, while Azzi sat cross-legged at the head of the bed, twisting a strand of her hair between her fingers.

Paige glanced up, her brows furrowing as she caught the nervous energy radiating from Azzi. The girl was unusually quiet, her eyes flickering toward Paige every few seconds before darting away again.

Setting her phone aside, Paige shifted to sit up. “Okay, what’s going on? Seriously, Azzi, why are you being so weird today?”

Azzi froze, her fingers stilling in her hair. Her jaw tightened as if she were trying to hold something back, but after a long pause, she exhaled sharply and blurted, “I have a date.”

For a moment, Paige didn’t react. She couldn’t have heard her correctly as the words hung in the air between them, and then, slowly, she processed them and the impact hit. Her body stiffened, and she immediately sat up straighter, instinctively leaning back a little to stand up.

“Oh,” Paige said softly, her voice clipped. She tried to mask the hurt, but her expression betrayed her. The usual flicker of pain in her eyes was brief, but this time it lingered and it twisted something deep in Azzi’s stomach as she looked at her..

“Wait.” Azzi reached out quickly, her hand wrapping around Paige’s wrist before she could pull away completely. “Please don’t do that. Sit back down and just listen.”

Paige hesitated, her gaze hardening slightly as she stared at Azzi’s hand on her wrist. “Do what?” she asked, her tone sharper than she intended.

Azzi softened her grip, but she didn’t let go. “You know what I mean,” she said quietly. “Don’t pull away from me.”

Reluctantly, Paige let herself sink back onto the bed, though the tension in her shoulders didn’t ease. “So...you have a date,” she said, forcing the words out as if testing how they sounded in her mouth. “That’s great, Az. Really. Good for you.”

Azzi sighed, sensing the sarcasm, but she ignored it. “Paige,” she said, her voice quieter now. She shifted closer, still holding Paige’s wrist as if afraid she might bolt. “I just need you to be my best friend and support me in this just for tonight. No matter how much neither of us wants this.”

Paige’s laugh was sharp and humorless. “Why are you even going, then?” she asked, her voice rising slightly.

Azzi’s jaw tensed, and for a moment, she didn’t respond. Her gaze dropped to their hands, where her thumb traced absent patterns on Paige’s skin. “Because I need to at least try,” she admitted finally, her voice trembling with vulnerability. “I need to at least try to figure out if anyone else can make me feel the way you do. Feel even a fraction of what you make me feel.”

Paige inhaled sharply at this, her chest feeling almost painful as she listened to Azzi. She turned her face away, but Azzi wasn’t having it. Her free hand came up, gently cupping Paige’s cheek and guiding her back. Their eyes met, and Azzi’s own gaze softened.

“These silent feelings between us hurt too much, P,” Azzi whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “So I need to at least try. So I know what I need to do.”

Paige’s jaw tightened, her eyes glistening with unshed tears at the simple thought of Azzi being with someone else. At the thought of Azzi still needing to figure things out when Paige knew exactly how she felt. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she nodded and said, “Fine.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her hand dropping back to Paige’s. “So tonight you’re just going to be my best friend. You’re going to help me get ready,” she continued, her tone firm but gentle. “You’re going to tell me if I look nice enough before I leave. And when I come back, you’re going to let me tell you about it. Good or bad.”

A tear slipped down Paige’s cheek and she felt so damn dramatic, but Azzi didn’t mind as she caught it, her touch lingering. “Can I meet them?” Paige asked, her voice a little hoarse.

Azzi’s smile softened as she nodded. “Of course.”

For a moment, they simply sat there, the silence between them louder than the music playing softly in the background. Paige’s shoulders sagged slightly as she leaned back, letting Azzi hold her hand for a little longer.

…

Azzi stood in front of her closet, two shirts in hand, her nerves bubbling just beneath the surface. She wasn’t even nervous about the date. She was nervous she would hate it, nervous what it meant for her and Paige. The knock at the door hadn’t come yet, but she knew it was only a matter of minutes. She turned to Paige, who sat quietly on the edge of the bed, hands clasped in her lap as her gaze lingered somewhere near Azzi’s shoes lost in her own thoughts.

Holding up both shirts, Azzi cleared her throat. “Which one?” she asked softly, her voice laced with hesitation. “The red or the white?”

Paige blinked, her head lifting as she regarded the options. She pointed to the red shirt after a moment, her voice steady but quieter than usual. “Red. It makes your eyes look...brighter.”

The comment hit Azzi harder than Paige intended. Her heart ached, but she swallowed it down, nodding as she turned back toward the closet. “Red it is,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Paige’s eyes followed Azzi as she changed into the chosen shirt, her movements slow and deliberate. She tried not to let her emotions show, but the faint furrow of her brows and the way she pressed her lips together betrayed her.

When Azzi finally turned around, fully dressed, Paige’s breath caught for a moment. She offered a soft, sad smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Azzi hesitated before stepping closer, the space between them narrowing until she was standing between Paige’s legs. She placed her hands gently on Paige’s shoulders, the warmth of her touch seeping through the fabric of Paige’s sweatshirt.

“I’m sorry, P,” Azzi whispered, her voice cracking slightly. Her dark eyes searched Paige’s face, pleading for understanding.

Paige looked up at her, her lips parting as if to respond, but no words came. Instead, she reached out, her fingers lightly brushing against the edge of Azzi’s shirt. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “You look beautiful, Az.”

The sincerity in her tone made Azzi’s chest tighten. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, a sharp knock echoed through the room.

The sound was jarring, cutting through the moment like a blade. Azzi flinched slightly, her hands still resting on Paige’s shoulders as her gaze darted toward the door.

Paige’s hand fell back into her lap, and she looked down, her expression unreadable. Azzi hesitated, torn between the pull of the person waiting on the other side of the door and the weight of the person sitting in front of her.

Paige and Azzi knew it was only one day. They knew it was just a few hours. But they also knew that the outcome of these few hours could change a lot for them so it felt much heavier than it needed to.

After a beat, she took a deep breath and squeezed Paige’s shoulders gently before stepping away. “I...should get that,” Azzi said.

Paige nodded, her eyes never leaving the floor. “Yeah. You should.”

Azzi lingered for a moment longer, the silence between them heavy, before turning toward the door.

A few moments later Azzi walked back into the room, her keys in hand and her purse slung over her shoulder. Paige hadn’t moved an inch from where she was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as her gaze stayed fixed on the floor.

Azzi paused, watching her for a moment before breaking the silence. “Do you still want to meet him?”

Paige’s head lifted slightly, her brows furrowing. “Him?” she repeated, her voice tinged with surprise.

Azzi nodded, noticing the surprise in Paige’s voice. “Yeah... him.”

Paige blinked, the answer catching her off guard. For some reason, she had assumed Azzi’s date was a girl. She wanted to stay put, to ignore the question and let Azzi walk out the door, but the subtle look in Azzi’s eyes—uncertain, almost pleading—made her sigh.

Without a word, Paige pushed herself off the bed, her movements stiff and reluctant. She followed Azzi down the hall and into the living room, her stomach twisting the closer they got.

When they stepped into the room, Paige’s eyes landed on a guy sitting on the couch. He stood up as Azzi approached, a friendly but slightly awkward smile on his face.

“Derrick,” Azzi said, her voice a little hesitant as she gestured between them. “This is my best friend, Paige.”

Derrick looked between the two of them, his confusion evident, though he masked it quickly. “Uh, nice to meet you,” he said, holding out his hand.

Paige stared at him for a moment before sticking out her own hand, her grip firm as they shook. “Paige,” she said simply, her tone polite but distant.

“Derrick,” he replied, his smile still in place, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Why the hell was he meeting a best friend?

Azzi’s gaze flickered between them, her discomfort evident. Paige released Derrick’s hand and took a small step back, tightening her jaw as she glanced at Azzi. “Well,” she said, her voice clipped, “have fun.”

Azzi nodded, but as she turned toward the door with Derrick, she glanced back over her shoulder. “You’ll be here when I get back, right?”

Her voice was soft, almost pleading, as she looked at Paige with eyes she could never say no to. So she swallowed hard, her expression unreadable at the thought of just sitting here waiting for Azzi to get back from a fucking date, but still, she gave a small nod. “Yeah. I’ll be here.”

Azzi lingered for a moment, her eyes searching Paige’s face as if she wanted to say something more. But then Derrick shifted beside her, and the moment was gone. She turned back toward the door, leading Derrick out with a quiet goodbye.

As the door clicked shut behind them, Paige exhaled, sinking back onto the edge of the couch. The silence in the apartment felt deafening, and all she could do was sit there and wait for Azzi to come back with a decision.

…

Paige lay sprawled on Azzi’s bed, her arm resting over her eyes, but when the door creaked open, she shifted slightly, glancing up to see Azzi walking in. She didn’t say anything, and neither did Azzi at first. The room felt still, with unspoken words.

Azzi took a hesitant step forward, her voice soft as she broke the silence. “Thank you for staying.”

Paige gave her a small, tired smile, but her lips remained sealed. Azzi studied her for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh. She slipped off her shoes and dropped her bag near the door, walking over to sit on the edge of her bed.

The movement made Paige sit up, her legs crossed as she now faced Azzi. The quiet stretching between them until Paige finally asked, “So... how was it?”

Azzi laughed, though the sound carried more exasperation than amusement. “It was... exhausting.” She shook her head and reached for Paige’s hand, running her fingers lightly over the soft skin. “His hands were really hard.”

Paige chuckled, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “Hard hands, huh? What a dealbreaker.”

Azzi laughed again, this time more genuine. “Yeah, and he talked too much. Like, nonstop. It was giving me a headache. And he had so much energy.” She glanced up at Paige, a teasing glint in her eye. “Kinda like you, but... I didn’t like it when he was doing it.”

Paige laughed softly, though there was still tension in her frame. “So, hard hands and a chatterbox. What else?”

Azzi paused, her fingers tightening slightly around Paige’s. Her voice dropped a little as she continued. “He tried to kiss me.”

Paige froze, her jaw tightening, though she tried to keep her expression neutral. “Did he?” she asked, her voice carefully even.

Azzi shook her head, squeezing Paige’s hand to ground her. “No. I didn’t let him.”

Paige’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though her eyes still searched Azzi’s face. “You didn’t want to?”

Azzi shook her head again, her gaze soft but steady. “No... I didn’t want to kiss him.”

The words hung between them, heavy and loaded with everything unsaid. Paige swallowed hard, her free hand playing with the comforter beneath them. “Why not?”

Azzi looked at her then, her eyes brimming with an emotion Paige couldn’t quite place. “Because he’s not you. I don’t want anybody but you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige’s chest felt tight at the words, her heart pounding as she held Azzi’s gaze. After a beat, she murmured, “I’m going to kiss you now Az.”

Azzi’s breath hitched, her lips parting slightly. “No, you’re not, Paige. We talked about this,” she said, her voice trembling. But there was no conviction behind her words, only a faint tremor of fear.

“Yes, I am,” Paige replied, her voice firmer this time, her gaze unwavering.

Azzi swallowed hard, her eyes darting between Paige’s eyes and her lips. “Paige...”

Paige leaned in just a fraction, her voice softer now but still resolute. “Azzi.”

Azzi’s breathing quickened, her pulse racing as her name fell from Paige’s lips. She didn’t say anything else, her silence speaking louder than words.

Paige hesitated for a moment longer, searching Azzi’s face for any sign of hesitation, any sign showing she didn’t want this. When all she saw was a mixture of nervousness and longing that was all the confirmation she needed.

Slowly, she leaned in, her movements deliberate and careful. When their lips finally met, it was as if the world around them fell away. Paige’s lips were soft, warm, and hesitant, testing the waters as if afraid to break the fragile moment.

Azzi sighed into the kiss, her hand coming up to cradle Paige’s face immediately as their lips moved together in perfect rhythm. Paige’s lips were impossibly soft which didn’t surprise her and Paige swore she could taste the faintest hint of the pineapple lip gloss Azzi always wore.

The kiss wasn’t rushed or messy. It was tender, filled with every unspoken word they’d held back for months. Paige’s hand slid up to cup Azzi’s cheek, her thumb brushing against her skin as if trying to memorize the feeling.

As they continued to kiss Azzi felt something shift deep within her, like she’d discovered a missing piece of herself in this kiss. Her fingers curled into Paige’s hair, pulling her closer as if she didn’t want her to ever let go.

After their lips finally part, they stay close, foreheads resting together as they catch their breath. Neither of them says anything at first, the silence filled with the weight of what just happened. Paige finally whispers, “That felt… right.”

Azzi lets out a shaky laugh. “It did. That’s the problem.”

Paige pulls back slightly, searching Azzi’s face. “Why does it have to be a problem? We can figure it out Az, teammates really do date all the time.”

Azzi sighs, running a hand through her hair. “They do, but it’s never simple. It changes things, P. And I don’t want us to get... messy.”

Paige frowns, her voice softer now. “It doesn’t feel messy. It feels... easy.”

Azzi smiles at her, almost wistfully. “Until it’s not. And I like us a little too much, Paige. I don’t want to lose us.”

Despite her words, Azzi doesn’t pull away completely. Instead, she stays close, her fingers tracing soft patterns along Paige’s wrist. “I’m not saying we stop, though.”

Paige raises an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

Azzi bites her lip, looking a little shy as she speaks. “I don’t want to stop kissing you. Or touching you. I just... we need to figure this out without rushing into something we can’t handle.”

Paige hesitates, then nods. “So... no labels.... this?”

Azzi smiles, leaning her forehead against Paige’s again. “Just this. For now.”

July 2022

Those two words—“just this”—became the foundation of what they shared for the next few months. They didn’t need a label to define the intensity of what they felt for each other. It was in the stolen glances and whispers during events, the playful nudges when they just wanted to touch each other in public without drawing too much attention, and the way their hands would linger just a moment too long when ‘helping’ the other with something.

When they weren’t surrounded by teammates, they were all over each other, sneaking away for stolen moments whenever they could. Any excuse to feel the press of their lips, the warmth of the other’s skin, was enough. It was like they craved one another in a way neither of them had ever experienced before.

A few of their teammates had definitely caught on—walking in on them tangled up on the couch looking a little too disoriented or catching them whispering a little too closely in the locker room. But no one said anything, at least not directly. Paige and Azzi kept it to just kissing, though, never crossing the boundary they both silently agreed to respect.

Late one night, in the comfort of Azzi’s room after another heated make-out session, they found themselves lying side by side, breathless and grinning. Azzi, her cheeks flushed, tilted her head toward Paige and asked with curiosity, “How did you not have sex before I got here? You were at UConn a whole year without me. I’ve seen people throw themselves at you.”

Paige laughed, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she propped herself up on her elbow. “I used to be a robot, remember?” she teased, grinning. “No time for distractions when I was locked in..”

Azzi chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, but even robots can have moments.”

Paige smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to Azzi’s forehead. “Hm, guess I was just waiting for the right person then.”

Their connection had grown deeper with every passing day, and though they’d never said the words out loud again, both knew it was more than just physical. But that’s all they chalked it up to being for now.

Now they were back home in the DMV, where the familiarity and privacy of their hometown gave them a sense of freedom they didn’t have anywhere else.

Paige’s car was parked in their usual spot near a waterfall, the soft hum of Steve Lacy’s new album filling the quiet night air. They found it by accident once when they were looking for the parking lot of a kicking trail. It had become their place—a quiet escape from everything else. The faint rush of water mixed with the lingering scent of smoke from them smoking, something Olivia had introduced them to before she graduated. They didn’t do it often, but tonight felt right.

Paige was relaxed in the driver’s seat, her posture lazy, exuding effortless confidence. She was kind of manspreading, her grey sweats riding low on her hips, and her tank top pushed up just enough to reveal the band of her boxers. Her wavy hair was undone from the braids she’d taken out earlier, and her blue eyes were low and rimmed with a little red from smoking. Her gaze was locked on Azzi. The stupid, lopsided grin she always wore only made her look better.

Azzi sat leaning against the passenger door, her head resting on the cool glass as she tried to focus on what Paige was saying. Or at least, she thought Paige had been talking. Truthfully, Azzi hadn’t been listening for a while. Her gaze kept drifting, tracing the way Paige’s exposed skin looked and how the tank top clung to her, how casual she looked yet somehow so put together. She noticed every detail—the rise and fall of Paige’s chest, the way her fingers tapped idly against her knee, the curve of her lips when she smiled.

She was startled out of her thoughts when Paige’s voice cut through the haze, soft and teasing. “Why you all the way over there?”

“Huh?” Azzi blinked, her cheeks warming as she realized Paige was smirking at her.

Paige leaned back even more, spreading her arms over the top of the seat like she owned the world. “I said, why you all the way over there?” she repeated, gesturing lazily toward Azzi’s position against the door. “I been tryna talk to you.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitched. “You’re so annoying,” she muttered, trying to sound unaffected, but Paige’s smirk only grew.

“Yeah ok” Paige said back, her voice dropping just enough to make Azzi’s stomach flip. “Why you here with me then? Wassup with that?”

Azzi shrugged, turning her gaze toward the windshield to avoid Paige’s lingering eyes. “Maybe I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” she teased, her voice steady despite the heat rising in her cheeks.

Paige let out a soft laugh, low and warm, the sound wrapping around Azzi like a blanket. “Oh, you’re doing me a favor now huh? That’s cute.” She tilted her head, studying Azzi with a playful intensity. “But you didn’t answer my question. Why you sitting all the way over there like I’m some stranger?”

Azzi hesitated, shifting in her seat. “I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” Paige interrupted, her grin turning mischievous. She patted the console beside her. “C’mon. What, you scared of me now or something?”

Azzi scoffed, trying to ignore the way her heart was racing. “Scared of you? Please,” she said, forcing her tone to stay light.

Paige raised an eyebrow, her expression daring. “Then come here ma,” she said simply, her voice soft but commanding.

Azzi glanced at her, debating whether to give in or keep playing it cool. “You’re annoying, you know that?” she muttered as she slid across the console, settling closer to Paige.

Paige leaned slightly toward her, the distance between them now almost nonexistent. “You came over here didn’t you,” she teased, her voice dropping into a whisper.

Azzi rolled her eyes again, though it was more out of nervousness than annoyance. “Only because you wouldn’t shut up about it,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Sure,” Paige said, drawing out the word as her lips curved into a smirk. “You definitely didn’t just want to be closer to me. Totally makes sense.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes, leaning back slightly to create some space. “You’re so full of yourself Paige.”

Paige laughed, the sound low and teasing. “Am I wrong, though?” she asked, her blue eyes locking onto Azzi’s. “You’ve been staring at me all night. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Azzi froze for a moment before recovering, her voice sharp with mock indignation. “I was not staring!”

Paige tilted her head, her grin widening. “Mhm. Sure you weren’t.” She leaned in just a little closer, her voice dropping lower. “It’s okay, Azzi. I get it. You can just tell me you want me.”

Azzi opened her mouth to protest, but Paige’s hand moved, brushing against Azzi’s chin and tilting her face up. The playful glint in Paige’s eyes softened, replaced by something deeper, something that made Azzi’s breath hitch.

“See? Not so scary,” Paige murmured, her thumb lightly grazing Azzi’s jaw.

Azzi swallowed hard, her pulse quickening as the teasing tension between them shifted into something heavier. “I hate you,” she whispered, though her voice betrayed her, trembling just enough to make Paige’s grin return.

“And you’re blushing,” Paige countered, her voice soft and teasing as her face moved even closer.

Azzi could feel Paige’s breath now, warm and tantalizing. “Shut up,” she managed to say, though her words held no weight.

“Make me,” Paige whispered, her lips hovering just above Azzi’s.

And then, before Azzi could respond, Paige closed the gap, capturing her lips in a kiss that was soft at first but quickly deepened. Azzi melted into it, her hand instinctively reaching for Paige’s arm, anchoring herself as the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them and the sound of the waterfall in the background.

The kiss was slow but deep, each movement deliberate, the effects of them smoking clear in the way their lips brushed languidly against each other, their tongues tangling slowly. It was intoxicating, neither of them wanting to pull away, but when they finally did, Azzi leaned back against the passenger door, her breathing uneven.

Paige didn’t say anything, but her smirk said it all. Her lips were slightly swollen, glistening in the dim light, and Azzi couldn’t help but think about how annoyingly good she looked. Paige leaned back against the driver’s side door now, her posture relaxed as she let her eyes rake over Azzi without any attempt to hide it.

Azzi shifted under the weight of Paige’s gaze, finally breaking the silence. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Paige chuckled, the sound low and lazy. “Like what?” she asked, though the mischievous tilt of her head made it clear she knew exactly what Azzi meant.

Azzi narrowed her eyes, trying to keep her voice steady. “You’re eye-fucking me, Paige.”

Paige’s grin widened as she shrugged, entirely unbothered. “And?” she replied, her tone dripping with nonchalance, her eyes locked on Azzi.

Azzi narrowed her eyes, struggling to maintain her composure. “And you need to stop,” she said, her voice firmer than she felt.

Paige tilted her head back against the driver’s seat, her smirk deliberate. “No, I don’t,” she shot back smoothly, her confidence filling the small space between them like a slow burn.

The weight of Paige’s gaze made Azzi shift, her thighs pressing together as she crossed her legs in an attempt to quell the heat rising in her. Paige noticed immediately, of course. She always noticed the effect she had on Azzi. Her smirk deepened, and her eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

They stared at each other, the tension palpable. Then Paige broke the silence, her voice dropping lower, softer, almost like a confession. “You’re sexy.”

Azzi froze, her breath catching as the words warmed her entire body. The sincerity and heat in Paige’s tone made her heart pound, leaving her momentarily speechless.

Paige leaned forward slightly, the intensity in her gaze almost unbearable. “You have no idea what I wanna do to you all the time,” she murmured, her voice tinged with awe.

Azzi didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Instead, she found herself leaning forward too, drawn in by the gravity between them. Her hand moved almost on its own, resting against Paige’s thigh as her eyes dropped to Paige’s lips.

Paige noticed the hesitation and closed the distance herself, capturing Azzi’s lips in a kiss that was slower but hungrier this time. It was as if the compliment had ignited something in both of them, and they poured all of it into the kiss.

Azzi sighed softly against Paige’s mouth, her hand sliding up from Paige’s thigh to her hip, her fingers curling into the fabric of Paige’s tank top. Paige groaned quietly, a sound Azzi always loved to hear. Paige’s hand found Azzi’s jaw as she deepened the kiss, tilting her head to taste more.

When they finally pulled apart, their breaths were shallow, their foreheads resting against each other. Paige’s lips were swollen again, glistening in the dim light, but this time, Azzi didn’t look away. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Paige’s, and there was no mistaking the spark of something deeper in her gaze.

Azzi swallowed hard, her voice soft but steady when she finally spoke. “Let’s get in the back.”

Paige’s eyes widened slightly, tracing every detail of Azzi’s face as if searching for any hesitation. She knew exactly what Azzi meant by that, and the weight of the moment settled between them. “You sure?” Paige asked quietly, her voice careful and almost reverent.

Azzi nodded, her lips twitching into a small, confident smile. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

It took all of two seconds for Paige to push her seat forward and climb in the backseat, her movements quick but measured. Azzi followed without hesitation, and before Paige could even settle fully, Azzi was there. She straddled Paige’s lap with ease, her legs on either side of the older girl as her hands rested on Paige’s shoulders.

Paige leaned back slightly against the seat, her hands instinctively finding Azzi’s hips to steady her. She looked up at Azzi, her blue eyes soft yet filled with an intensity that sent a shiver down Azzi’s spine.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Paige murmured, her voice low and teasing, though the sincerity beneath it was undeniable.

Azzi smirked, her hands sliding down Paige’s arms until her fingers laced with hers. “Guess we’re even, then,” she whispered, leaning down just enough for their noses to brush.

Paige chuckled softly, her grip on Azzi’s hips tightening as she let her eyes drift over Azzi’s face, soaking in every detail. “Come here,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, but it carried a weight that made Azzi’s breath hitch.

Azzi didn’t hesitate, closing the small gap between them as their lips met again, this time with more urgency. The kiss was deeper now, fueled by the intimacy of their new position. Paige’s hands slid to Azzi’s ass, pulling her closer as if the small space between them was unbearable.

Azzi shifted slightly, her body fitting perfectly against Paige’s as the kiss grew hungrier, more consuming. It wasn’t just about the physical connection anymore—it was the unspoken understanding between them, the trust and care they had built over months finally coming to the surface.

Paige pulled back just enough to catch her breath, her lips brushing against Azzi’s as she whispered, “You’re incredible, you know that?”

Azzi smiled softly, her forehead resting against Paige’s as she replied, “You make me feel like I am.”

Paige’s heart swelled at the confession, and she tightened her hold on Azzi, leaning up to kiss her again, slow and deliberate, savoring every moment.

They continued to kiss, the rhythm of their lips synchronized as Azzi gently moved her hips, trying to get closer to Paige, to feel her more. Every shift brought them that much nearer, the heat between them escalating with each subtle motion. Paige’s hands stayed on Azzi’s butt, pulling her even tighter as she squeezed, if that was even possible. Their kiss deepened, more frantic now, their shared breaths mingling between the fervent exchanges.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were gasping for air, their chests rising and falling in unison. Paige’s gaze swept over Azzi, her heart racing. She wished she could freeze this exact moment in time—this version of Azzi. The long goddess braids she had gotten over the summer were tilted to one side, a few strands loose, framing her face. Her lips were swollen, a telltale sign of their heated kiss, and her eyes—those deep, warm brown eyes—were low with desire, the slight speckles of red still lingering from earlier.

Azzi smiled down at Paige, her expression soft yet knowing, as if she could read the thoughts running through Paige’s mind. Before Paige could even respond, Azzi’s lips found her neck, pressing soft, teasing kisses along the sensitive skin there, making Paige’s breath hitch.

The sensation was electric. Paige’s head instinctively rolled back against the seat, her hands tightening on Azzi, a soft, almost inaudible sigh escaping her lips. Azzi’s kisses grew more insistent, trailing up to the sensitive spot just below Paige’s ear, making Paige’s eyes flutter shut. She couldn’t help but moan softly as Azzi’s lips worked their magic.

Paige’s hands slid up Azzi’s hips, pulling her closer as if trying to bring her even further into the moment. “Azzi…” Paige breathed out, her voice barely a whisper, laced with both desire and disbelief. “God, you’re so…”

Azzi chuckled softly against her skin, her hands resting on either side of Paige’s face, gently guiding her chin back so their eyes could meet. She looked at Paige, her brown eyes dark with unspoken affection, a hint of a smirk on her lips as she whispered, “I know.”

The warmth from her words hit Paige harder than any kiss. It was a feeling that went deeper than desire. It was comfort, understanding, and the raw honesty between them. Paige smiled, her heart swelling, as her hands cupped Azzi’s face, pulling her into another kiss, this one slower, but no less intense.

Azzi eventually pulls away from the kiss, her lips brushing softly down Paige’s jaw before she grabs Paige’s hand, guiding it easily toward her. The look on Paige’s face is pure awe as Azzi slides Paige’s hands into her shorts and puts Paige’s fingers inside her herself—her eyes heavy with desire, a subtle tension in her jaw, and a hint of something deeper that makes Paige lose her mind. Azzi’s expression shifts her eyebrows furrowing at the new feeling as she leans back slightly, letting out a soft, breathy sigh that carries the weight of her unspoken thoughts.

Paige watches, completely entranced, as Azzi’s jaw drops just slightly. After she’s acclimated to the feeling her hips begin to move in slow, deliberate circles, drawing out a soft whimper from her lips—an involuntary sound that makes Paige’s chest tighten. The noise is so intimate, so raw, it echoes in the car, mixing with the steady rhythm of Azzi’s breath.

Paige’s breath hitches as Azzi leans back more, the motion drawing a deep, almost melodic groan from her, her hips still moving in a steady rhythm against Paige. "God..." Azzi whispers, the sound escaping her like it’s the only word she can form. Her hands grip the seat, fingers digging in as her breath comes out faster, warmer, the pace of her movements increasing just enough to make Paige’s heart race. Another sound slips from her—low and needy, a soft gasp as her hips shift again, making the air feel thick with anticipation.

Paige watches, mesmerized, not even realizing she’s supposed to be participating anymore. She’s completely lost in Azzi—her gaze trailing over her face, watching her lips part as another small moan escapes. Azzi’s eyes lock onto hers, dark and heated, as she continues to move her hips, her breath quickening. The faintest trail of a whimper follows, rising in pitch, but it’s quickly stifled by a soft, desperate sigh as Azzi shifts her body closer to Paige, creating a tension that wraps around them both.

The sounds continue—Azzi’s hips grinding slowly, her breath coming out in shaky, needy gasps. She exhales sharply, a soft, pleading sound leaving her mouth as she leans back just enough to deepen the way Paige’s fingers feel, creating a slow, undeniable pressure in the air. Her sounds—soft whines, quiet groans, and breathy sighs—are so intoxicating, so raw, that Paige can hardly breathe, let alone move.

"Azzi..." Paige’s voice trembles with desire, barely audible over the intensity of what she’s witnessing. Her eyes stay glued to Azzi, transfixed by the way she’s moving, her body begging for something more as the heat in the car rises with every sound, every shift of Azzi’s hips.

Azzi looks down at her with a knowing, intense gaze, and Paige can feel her heart racing in time with Azzi’s movements. She’s lost in the rawness of it all—the sound, the look, the feeling—as Azzi’s body moves against hers with a quiet desperation, each sound marking the space between them like a rhythm that only the two of them understand.

Azzi’s gaze locks with Paige’s, her breath shaky as she leans in closer, her lips brushing against Paige’s ear as she whispers, her voice breathy and laced with anticipation, “What exactly did you want to do to me?”

Paige’s breath catches in her throat, the sound of Azzi’s voice making everything inside her feel warm. It’s as though the spell that had been cast over her is broken. Her body reacts instinctively, and with a sharp intake of breath, Paige takes control. She slides her free hand to the back of Azzi’s neck, pulling her closer, crashing their lips together in a more urgent kiss than before. The kiss is deep and slow, laced with the power of the question Azzi had just asked.

Azzi's breath quickens as Paige starts moving inside of her, the balance of power shifting as Paige’s fingers move with more confidence, pushing Azzi’s body closer to hers. The energy in the car shifts as their kiss intensifies, moving beyond just desire.

The album continues to play softly in the background, the mellow tones of Steve Lacy’s voice creating a calm, almost hypnotic atmosphere as they lose themselves in one another. The windows of Paige’s Jeep fog up from the heat building between them, the condensation on the glass becoming a blur of the world outside, leaving only the two of them in their own space, their own universe. The world beyond the car doesn’t matter anymore.

For hours, they drift in and out of each other’s embrace, neither one of them paying attention to time. The soft, steady rhythm of the music plays on as they explore every inch of the moment, every whisper and touch, the sensations of being so close to each other for the first time pulling them deeper.

The hours slip by unnoticed, the tension between them never quite breaking, just ebbing and flowing with each kiss, each gentle caress as they explore one another completely.

…

The air in the car is sticky with the aftermath of what just transpired, the faint sound of Steve Lacy finally being turned off as Paige sits back in the driver’s seat, her lips curling into a smirk as she glances over at Azzi, who’s adjusting her clothes, her body language still completely relaxed from their time in the backseat. Paige lets out a slow breath, clearly pleased with herself.

“So…” Paige begins, her voice low and teasing. “How was that?”

Azzi, still catching her breath, looks at her with a knowing grin. “You tell me.” Her tone is just as confident now, the playful challenge in her eyes matching the sharpness of her words. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say ‘fuck’ that many times before.”

Paige chuckles, her smirk widening. “I didn’t know you could scream that loud,” she says, her voice dripping with mischief.

Azzi rolls her eyes, unbothered by the teasing, though a faint blush creeps up her neck. She doesn’t say anything back, the silence settling between them in a comfortable way.

But when Azzi looks back at Paige she finds the blonde looking at her the same way she was before—undeniably intense, eyes filled with that same hunger as if they didn’t just go for hours. It’s the same gaze that got Azzi in the back seat in the first place.

Azzi arches an eyebrow, lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “You can’t look at me like that all the time now,” she says, her voice teasing yet laced with a hint of warning.

Paige just grins, her eyes never leaving Azzi’s. “I’ll try my best,” she replies, her voice low but full of promise. As she says this, she reaches over to fasten Azzi’s seatbelt, her fingers brushing lightly against her exposed skin. As the belt clicks into place, Paige leans in and presses a lingering, soft kiss to Azzi’s lips before she fastens her own seatbelt.

The car pulls out of the spot, the engine humming softly as they start the drive back to Azzi’s place.

[the-clumsywitchtarot]

What is Your Future Husband's Love Language?

Because maybe his love language is quality time and you need to know ahead of time to work it into your schedule.

Cards

10 of Swords (Reversed)

2 of Wands (Reversed)

Wheel of Fortune

I feel like your future husband's love language is acts of service, anything that would make their life flow more easily. Before starting the reading for this pile I felt a pull to listen to a song called "A Little Bit" by Erika de Casier so they may also have quality time as a love language but I feel like they're too proud or stoic to admit it. This person could definitely be someone that avoids becoming too emotional or lovey dovey. They seem like someone that only knows how to show love from a practical side, for instance if you need your oil changed they'll have it done to keep you from having to do it. But if you are someone that likes to have deep talks or is touchy feely they may reject that. Another song that came up was "Strong as Glass" by Goapele.

Cards

6 of Wands

10 of Wands (Reversed)

The World

Apparently this is going to be a musical reading because starting your pile I felt the need to put on the song "All This Love" by Trey Songz. Your future husband's love language is words of affirmation, he is someone that is going to love hearing how well you thinks he's doing. And how much love him, when you give this man a compliment he is going to be in cloud 9. And if you send him text throughout the day just to let him know that you're thinking of him, he will love that! I can see a man getting a text, reading it, and then just beaming afterwards. He just wants to know that he is loved and appreciated. You do that and he'll be willing to give you the world (I know, an ironic choice of words considering you got the world card!) This is a side note but this pile gives me stay at home girlfriend vibes, well at least before you get married.

Cards

The Moon

4 of Swords

6 of Swords

This pile is interesting, I don't think your future husband will have any love language in particular but rather a combination of all of them. I feel like this person is just looking to quiet their minds and whichever of the love languages does that at any particular time is the one they'll want. I feel like this is a man that could've struggled opening up and expressing his needs at first. They may have been raised in a home or environment where their needs didn't matter or they were shown that they were not important in the eyes of their caregiver(s). This is a man that may have grown up in the foster care system. I feel like you will help him to realize that he is just as important and worthy of love and care as anyone else. I feel like he'll be so comfortable opening up to you that you will help him become in tune with what he needs. For any of those of you that are worried that this is someone that is an emotionally wounded boy man. Don't worry, I don't see that being the case, I think this is someone that has emotional intelligence when it comes to others but he just needs to be given permission to have it when it comes to himself. I feel like you guys will bring out the absolute best in each other effortlessly. I'm hearing the phrase "there are no perfect people but there are people perfect for each other."

Thank you for reading and please feel free to let me know which pile you chose! 🩷

- Erika, The Clumsy Witch

[toorusmu]

Video Game Lover !! ☆

K. Kozume x Fem Reader, Dom! Reader, Sub! Kenma

You and Kenma were strictly friends through video games. You didn't play volleyball, and were much more outgoing than he was. At first glance, no one would assume you even knew each other.

In middle school, when you met, you were known as better friends, though you're arguably closer now. Back when you were shy, more reserved, you clung to him during social situations. Kenma himself was antisocial, usually hiding behind Kuroo in a similar fashion. But the way your smaller hands grasped at his T-shirt always gave him an Ego "Level up"

Now in highschool, youve both changed your looks, participate in separate clubs, are in different social groups.. But you both find a way to cling to each other. And he still uses video game terms and real life, you trying not to laugh or pretend you don't know what hes talking about.

Not many people knew the Popular girl was secretly a total nerd. Only her loser classmate who always stuck to her side during the school day. But now clinging to you, he felt something different grow and "Level up". No one else had you sat on their lap while you played My Hero Ultra Rumble. They weren't focusing their entire attention on not growing hard when you scratched his scalp from behind his gaming chair. They weren't making you mute your roblox voice chat all of a sudden because cock warning finally evolved into him desperately fucking up into you.

He watched you turn down every guy, many taller, more athletic, and popular than him. You two never had a talk about what you were, but he felt safe when you decided to not even open your locker on Valentine's day. You knew he already had something waiting for back at home anyway.

Sure, probably every guy who'd put a letter through the small vents of your locker would've taken you out, shower you with gifts or praise. Grasp at and beg for your affection. But all you wanted was your seat on your best friends lap, while running around the Date he made in Minecraft for you.

It was adorable, soft pallets, good shading and texturing. He was clearly a good player in every aspect. With multiple references to your favorite animes and interests, it had so much more intention and care than any confession you'd ever heard.

It was a long night, a lot of quiet laughter in the comfort of his room. And eventually, the cool night air of upcoming spring heated between your bodies.

Growing closer and closer, everytime you moved closer to his screen to observe the details, your hips grinded softly back further against him. Even though youd spent almost all day with him, it felt like only a few minutes had passed before he needed his hands on you.

His head fell onto your neck, his breath hitching as his hand tugged on your shirt. "Ohh ? Kenma ?" You snickered, it was impressive hed held back for this long in the first place, but teasing him was just too irresistible.

You hadn't even done anything, but his breath was heavy against your shoulder. If you weren't careful, goosebumps and butterflies would overtake you. "Please.." He whined, hips rolling softly against yours.

You hummed in pleasure, gentle movements warning you up from in-between your hips to your inner thighs. You could feel the distinct bump of his tip through his sport shorts, occasionally pressing directly against your clothed entrance. Like he was subconsciously trying to fuck you as soon as possible.

"You want it off ?" you looked down at at his pudding hair, sprawled across you. You pressed a much too intimate kiss to his head, his cock twitching further and his body gaining speed. "Thats okay, let me get it for you." You moved a bit from him, bringing your shirt, and soon after, bra off of your body and on the edge of his desk.

Your clothing hanging from the space he spent so much time in was driving him crazy. You were so close to him, even if you did this every time, it got hotter and hotter with every visit, and he craved it more and more every time you left.

"Fuck.. fuck yes.." He bit into your shoulder, his head instantly pressed back into it, his fingers now prodding and gripping at your bare breasts. His hips switched from circular movements to quicker vertical thrusts, as if he was directly fucking into you. "P..please can I fuck you ? Ill be good I just fuck.." He gasped, his breath unsteady and higher than usual. "Mmmph.. 'm getting close and.. i.. hah.. wanna finish inside f'you.."

You were starting to get way too worked up too, and you knew itd feel too good to resist if you had him in you. "Of course, baby" You giggled, although you acted cool, he knew from the dampening fabric that you needed him too. But fuck, he loved when you talked to him like that.

You pulled down your shorts and panties, hips momentarily lifted as he quickly shoved down his respective clothing. He was already hard as a rock, his tip slapped against you. "Ohh fuckk.." He gripped its base, quickly jerking it but not letting his hand rise further towards his tip. "Please oh my goddd.." His head fell back, his eyes screwed shut.

You put your hand over his, "Shh.. you're getting too loud.." Usually his parents would be out, but they were enjoying their personal Valentines dinner downstairs. You lowered yourself again, letting your sticky entrance press against his leaking tip.

"Haah.. Fuck!" He cried out, you werent even around him yet, just a touch was driving him crazy.

"Kenma..!" You whisper hushed, usually he only got this way after being properly fucked, and you could shut him up with making out. But from the position, it would hurt your neck way too much, and if you got up for even a second to go to the bed you think hed start actually sobbing.

"Pleaseplleasepleasee.." His chest was falling and rising rapidly against your back, and you suddenly wish you took the time to unclothe him.. wait.. clothe him ?

"Its okay Kenma, jus one sec.. need to make sure you dont get us caught." You took your soaked panties from all the grinded, and turned over slightly to press him into his mouth.

"Nghh..!!" His eyes rolled back. His tongue immediately swirled around it, and while you could tell he was totally moaning louder now, your underwear did the job and muffled it to a soft vibration.

"Good boy.. thats perfect." You heard him practically scream as you finally lowered your hips on him, the praise and your walls sinking into him inch by inch was just too much. The makeshift gag in his mouth turned him on further than he expected, his cock desperately twitching and leaking into you.

"P..pweaf.." He barely mumbled, you wouldn't have been able to tell what he was saying if he wasn't such a beggar.

You smiled, moving your hips up and down slowly, getting used to the stretch. He was making strings of odd but clearly pleased noises, a lot of "hnnngs.." and "mphs !"

After a minute, his hands left your breasts to your hips, his own starting to fuck back into yours. "Oh fuck.. Kenma..!" You were rushing to keep your voice down, but his thick length was forcing his veins against your walls, texture and tip against your gspot driving you fucking insane.

You could hear faint muffles of your name being repeated over and over, a telltale sign he was about to cum. "Come on, Kenma.. hah.. come for me already.."

"Nn..nnghhmmph..!" He whined out, his dick quickly thrusting in and out, drool swept down his chin as he spurted out thick ropes of cum against your cervix.

"S..so good.." You moaned lowly, fucked yourself slowly until you felt your resolve snap. You looked back at him, he looked so obedient, fucked out, with your panties as a gag. His hair was messier, eyes dazed with sweat dripping erotically down his face. It was too much, and before you knew it, you were clenching against him.

Eventually the messy, slobbery in more ways than one panties fell from his lips, and his quieter gasps became clearer to your ears.

Everything felt hazy and dizzy after how intense it was, maybe.. just sitting there like this for a moment longer would be okay.

[deanscherrypie69]

Soft Skin L.H

Parings: Logan Howlett X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language Shower sex- hair pulling- spanking. (I think that’s it lmk if I missed anything)

Not proofread sorry🤍

18+ only minors DNI!!!!!

💛🖤💙🖤💛🖤💙

It was around 9 when Logan had entered the apartment he shared with you.

His muscles were aching from all of the new mutants he had to train. With a groan. He took off his boots and jacket he’d been wearing all day.

Leaving him in his jeans and a white tank top.

The apartment was too quiet. Logan smelled the air you, were nowhere to be found.

The first thing he noticed was a half a bottle of wine on the kitchen counter. He had known the only way for you to unwind was a few glasses of wine.

His head snapped over to the sounds of humming coming down the hallway. He begins to follow the sound. Until he is met with a cracked open bathroom door, steam was coming out.

Once entering the bathroom Logan was met with steam. He could see your naked form in the shower. Humming to some song he didn’t know.

With a devious smile, Logan began to undress.

Once he was he was naked, he carefully pulled the shower door open.

Your body was facing him. The water running down your naked body, Logan could feel himself getting hard, as you rinsed the shampoo out of your hair.

Your eyes were closed, your fingers ranking through your hair.

Logan comes to a stop when he’s almost standing in front of you.

You could feel a presence. But you didn’t open your eyes. Because maybe it was just all in your mind. Drinking wine and showering didn't mix.

But then you felt fingers on your hips, it caused you to jump a bit.

You didn’t need to open your eyes to see who it was. You already knew.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” Logan’s voice boomed off the shower walls.

Once you were done rinsing out your hair you open your eyes.

Looking at the hazel eyed man in front of you.

“Hi.” You hum with a smile. “You’re home late.” You say dragging a hand down your face.

Logan smiled at your words. “Should’ve told me you were takin a shower.” Logan leans down and kisses your neck.

You quietly moan and the action.

“Oh yea.” Your hand fly to his hair. Racking your hands through it. It was almost wet.

“Yea.” Logan nips your neck.

You could feel is hardness poking your thigh.

“You really missed me huh.”

Logan growls, pulling away from your neck.

“You have no idea.” Logan mumbles against your neck causing it to send shivers down your spine.

You were a school teacher. Logan hardly ever saw you. By the time he came home you were asleep or he would find you grading papers in the living room asleep.

Logan grabs you by the hips, turning you to face the shower wall. You squeal. At the sudden change of movement.

“You gonna be a good girl and spread your legs for me?” Logan asks bending down to whisper in your ear.

Straight to the point, you think to yourself. But you didn't care you needed Logan, just as much as he needed you.

You let out a moan, when Logan squeezes your hips.

You oblige when Logan tells you to spread your legs. You were so wet already you didn't even realize it.

"Look at my pretty girl, all wet for me." You watch as Logan drops to his knees, he was faced with your bare pussy on display for him.

Logan's tongue swipes along your pussy, causing you to let out a loud moan, "Let me hear you." He kisses your clit; his arm wraps around your stomach pulling you closer to him.

He buries his face in your pussy lapping every drop up. "So fuckin good." Logan stands up kissing your back, causing you to shiver and let out a soft moan.

"Please logan?" You say looking over your shoulder, his arm still wrapped under you. He smirks, getting close to your ear, "Please what?" He asks nipping your ear. "Use your words."

"Please, I need you."

That's all it took, for Logan those for words, He pushes you against the glass shower, you breasts against the cool of the glass.

"I'm gonna fuck you." Logan pushes into you slowly.

You moan, his arm tight around you as his hips ram into you fast, the shower water coming down on you both.

"Logan." You gasp your hand comes to contact with the shower, leaving a handprint.

His hands makes his way to settle down on your hips, he raises his hand smacking your ass.

You yelp, you turn to look over your shoulder, you watch as Logan's gaze was focused on where you two were connected, your walls squeeze around him. Logan kept fucking you his hips not slowing down. You felt the familiar sensation in your belly. "Logan." You moan.

He grabs your hair pounding, into you still, "You gonna cum all over my dick." He asks panting

You nod, Logan's grip on your hair gets harder. He slaps your ass with his other hand and watches the way your ass bounces on his dick, "Cum." he leans over to whisper in your ear.

You cum with a throaty moan, it bounces off the walls of the shower.

Logan grins and fucks you chasing his own release. He lets out a groan and empties himself inside of you.

You let out a soft moan, he lets go of your hair.

You stand up as Logan pulls out of you.

You turn around and see him, his hair was wet now, it was sticking to his forehead, his chest was beating up and down.

His face softens, 'Did I hurt you?" He asks as he massages your backside.

"No." You mumble.

You and Logan stand there in silence, the only sound that could be heard was the water still coming down hard.

Logan was the first to speak.

"Let's clean you up." He grabs a washcloth and rubs it between your legs. And then your backside, he lightly gets you under the water, cleaning your body.

"Thank you."

Logan smiles kissing your forehead, he reaches over and shuts off the water. He opens the shower door and grabs a towel, he reaches for your hand, which you gladly take.

He wraps you in the fluffy white towel, "Stay here." He kisses Your cheek before disappearing out of the bathroom.

You listen to him and wait; you sit on the toilet. Your body was exhausted. Before you could shut your eyes for a brief moment, you hear Logan come back, He was now dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a grey shirt.

'Hey-" he helps you stand up; he gently takes the towel off of you, a shiver runs through your body. It doesn't go unnoticed by him.

He slips one of his T-shirts over your body "Arms." He speaks.

You lift your arms up putting them through the arms of the shirt.

You watch as logan bends down, he lifts up your feet carefully. He slides your panties on, under the shirt. "Better?" He asks searching for any discomfort.

You nod, 'let's get you to bed yea?" He grabs your hand leading you out of the bathroom he makes sure to turn off the light.

He pulls back the covers of the bed, motioning you to get in. He watches as you snuggle into bed, he puts the covers on top of you.

He walks over to the other side of the bed; he wraps his arms around your body.

His face snuggles into your neck inhaling your sent.

"Goodnight bub."

That's all you heard before you drifted off.

🖤💛💙🖤💛💙

OMGGGG ty for reading! Reblogs and comments are welcomed!!!!!

A/N I just know their water bill is high as fuck omg???

[leadyoutothelight]

Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia

This wasn’t supposed to be your place in life, you were the second daughter, a spare given to the temple of Minerva to serve as one of the many temple maidens. But when your father comes to you, telling you of your sister’s sudden passing, suddenly you’re thrust into a new role. Expected to fill her place in a political marriage to the famed General Marcus Acacius Rome’s beloved war dog.

Rating: Explicit +18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: Dubious Consent/Coerced Consent, Age Gap (no specified ages), Virginity Loss *discomfort mentioned, no blood* , Implied physical abuse from a parent, Patriarchal world and expectations of women, Grinding, Unprotected p in v sex, reader is a virgin, first time sex *please let me know if I miss anything*

Word Count: 8k

Author Note: Hello, first time writing for a Pedro Pascal character, but finally saw Gladiator II and I couldn't resist writing this! Please note, there is very little research into Rome actually done, I'm not writing this based on historical accuracy, just had an idea and wanted to write it. The title is based off a common Roman wedding vow meaning, Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia.

Please let me know what you think!

-

Your sister is dead, you shall be the one to marry General Acacius. 

It had been the most your father had ever spoken to you in your entire life, the most he’d even looked at you. 

Being born the second daughter of a noble family is about as important as a new pair of sandals. Especially when you were the last born of five, and three of the five being boys. Your father was more than happy to direct his attention to his sons and his wars. Your sister and yourself were content to live in the house learning from your mother, waiting for the day your father drafted a marriage contract and sent you to a new household. 

Until it was decided that in a bid to gain the gods favor you were given to the temple of Minerva as a temple maiden, at ten you were bundled up with your few worldly items and left to the Priestess' devices. 

It was a sudden and chaotic change. But after the first year you found, you didn’t mind this new living arrangement. Yes, you had chores now, and you needed to share things. But you grew to like your new home with other women and girls working in the temple. Learning the day-to-day needs, and expectations of your new home. You flourished, and your mother and sister visiting every now and again helped you settle as well. 

The last time you’d seen your sister she’d been an excited mess talking the whole time of her engagement to General Acacius, that they’d be wed as soon as he’d returned home from another conquest.

“Just think sissy, me, a famed general’s wife!”  

Her eyes glowed in the lamplight as she’d clutched your hands in hers. You’d given her a smile and a nod, as she went on and on. Whilst you’d thought to yourself that you’d be stuck cleaning the temple floors for the next week due to staying out longer than allowed.

“You’ll be there right?” 

Her question pulls you out of your glum thoughts, and you give her a wide eye-scrunching smile. You don’t have the heart to disappoint, maybe with your father’s status you can ask for the time…

A pain twinges through you at the thought, the high priestess had been kind, giving you the time in exchange for you doing more chores when you returned. 

But today, a day you expected your sister to visit, with her finished bridal veil in tow. You expected to ‘oh’ and ‘aw’ over her hard work, compliment her delicate needlework, ask her jokingly which parts your mother had helped with. To comfort her, she’d mentioned fainting spells had started since the date had been announced. 

Maybe you’d even offer to bring her into the inner sanctum to ask the goddess to protect her, and her future husband. To give her calm in the coming ‘battle’ of marriage. 

But now you sit across from your father. A beast of a man, skin tanned and leathered from the sun. Scars criss-cross along his arms, you resist the urge to glance at his left pinky. Where only a ghastly stump sits. 

His voice brokers no argument, yet, you can’t stop yourself.

“What do you mean?” 

He blinks, those dark eyes boring into you, and you see a flash of anger, mixed with surprise. Again, your existence has been a fleeting one in your father’s opinion. He was the one who sent you here…he was the one who gave you to the gods. He can’t just–take you back. 

“I wasn’t aware you were an imbecile–” 

“I’m not, but you cannot take me from the temple–from Minerva herself–” 

“I have made the appropriate tithes and the priestess herself has granted your hand–”

“I am to serve the goddess, that is what you–”

“And now you shall serve the family!” It’s the way he stands, the clatter of the chair he once occupied. The roar of his voice, the one you know he uses to order his troops into battle with. You cower, well aware that this rage is one you don’t survive. 

Tears brim over your lashes, and you bite your cheek to stop yourself from arguing further, here in the temple, you are free to share your opinions. Voice concerns, even vent frustrations, rare luxuries in this male dominated society. You’ve found you enjoy the thrill of conversing, and theology the other maidens and priestesses provide. 

But now, that’s all being taken, when you’re so close to the priesthood. To take the sacred robes of Minerva, learn the sacred rights. Bless soldiers, generals, and emperors in their great conquests for the Roman Empire. 

That was your purpose, your place in this world. Being born a woman was a curse in this empire, but here you were safe, here you could make a life. 

“You shall be collected in the morning, the wedding will take place in a week's time.” 

That tone again. One brokering no peace, no argument. The voice he commands thousands with, and you are one of them. 

The next morning passes in a blur, your few things taken by slaves. You’re barely given enough time to hug the girls, and women you’ve come to see as your new family. Careful to hide your tears as the High Priestess stops you outside the temple doors. 

“Go with Minerva’s blessing,” her voice is soft, though there is an edge to it. You don’t respond, for fear that you’ll fall to your knees and beg her to stop this. Claim Minerva’s hold over you, refuse your father’s demands. 

But she won’t, your father is a powerful man, marrying you to another powerful man, and not even the goddess of war can prevent it. 

You’re whisked away on a chariot handled by one of your father’s trusted soldiers. A clear warning to behave, the city passes by. A few of the bustling crowds pause to watch you entourage, but it’s fleeting, they return to their day-to-day lives as it's nothing new to see a noble pass in their gilded transports. 

A blink and you’re home. The home you hadn’t seen in years, still a marbled behemoth, a villa of luxury befitting one of Rome’s finest generals. The sandstone pillars glow in the mid-afternoon sun. Banners the color of blood mark the door, along with coal black braziers that will be lit when the sun disappears behind the mountains. 

Awaiting you is a group of slaves, heads bowed, they drop to kneel as you are escorted from the chariot and into the house. 

It’s barely changed, since you last ran about the halls, as a wild precocious child. Tripping over your feet to follow your older brothers. The large atrium, with a lapis lazuli lined pool. Filled with various plants your father brought home to your mother. More braziers and torches line the halls. 

Gold, and weapons decorate the walls, all of them spoils of war taken by your father. Silk curtains billow in the afternoon wind, and distantly you smell the incense your mother uses throughout the villa. 

Your sister used to smell of it, well, the incense and rose water. A pang ricochets through your chest.  Her voice doesn’t greet you, and you’ll never hear it again. Instead it’s the rush of silks, and the patter of feet, and your mother enters the atrium, in the warm glow of the sun she shines. 

Dark hair in tight ringlets cascading down her back, her eyes shine with unshed tears. She stops seeing you in the entrance, then her arms spread wide, and like a child you rush into them. 

She smells of her personal fragrance of jasmine, and cinnamon. The mixture your father had gifted her after a long campaign many years ago. She buries her nose into your hair, fingers threading through the tresses. She presses a quick kiss to the crown of your head. 

“Mama,” you whimper into her bosom, and she shushes you. Pulling back, her hands cup your face, thumbs brushing against the apples of your cheeks. 

“Well, not the way I expected my beloved child to return to me but,” another kiss is pressed to your forehead. Her lips are soft and warm, tears well and threaten to spill a lump gathers in the back of your throat. “I am grateful to have some time with you again.” 

 For a moment, you’re grateful for the reprieve as well. But it’s short lived. She ushers you into the house, into her personal chambers. Where she sits you on the lounge, it’s darker here. Not as many windows, and most of them blocked by curtains. 

The incense is thicker here, and you stifle a cough as you settle into the dimness with her. 

“Oh my dear one, how I’ve missed you.” She smiles, and again her eyes take you in. Just as you do her, she’s aged in the years you’ve been gone. Where once was smooth skin, you see wrinkles in the corners of her eyes. The creases of her lips, a few grey hairs decorate her dark curls. 

“I’m sorry it wasn’t under…better circumstances.” You mutter, fingers toying with the robes you had left in. They’re still the temple robes, a simple woven woolen tunic. Good for completing chores, and easy to move in. 

Not like her opulent robes, her pure white muslin, with a deep blue dyed sash. A golden belt cinching in her waist. Her smile falters, a look of pain crosses her expression. 

“Y–your sister fought hard against the sweating sickness,” her voice wavers, and tears spill over her lashes, smudging the kohl lining her eyes. “But, she has been given her last rights, and she rests now in Elysium.” 

You nod, your chin quivers, as your own tears rain down from your eyes. Your mother tuts, and leans forward her hands warm and soft, unlike your now calloused fingers and palms.

“She would not want us to mourn–” 

“But Mama, she wanted this,” you gesture to the room of grandeur around you. Feeling your mother’s gaze watching you as you struggle with your next words, “I was promised to Minerva–to the gods!” 

You stand beginning to pace as you consider everything, and are finally able to do so.

“She should be here, I should be at the temple, learning the rites, blessing soldiers–”

“My darling you’re here now,” your mother’s voice is firm, a tone you recognize as her warning, and just like your father you know she’s not going to entertain you abandoning this marriage. “Come.” 

She offers you a bedecked hand, rings, and bangles gleaming against her skin. All the finery a woman could want. Sullenly you take her hand as she pulls you beside her, her hands take yours in a solid grip. 

“Your sister’s passing was a tragedy, but the gods have smiled upon us, in that Acacius is willing to continue the betrothal with you,” her voice is soft, you stare at your clasped hands. She’d done this before, when you’d first been promised to the Temple of Minerva. 

How strange to be here again, a child begging her mother to see reason and send you back. She pulls your hands up to her lips, pressing a warm kiss to them, as more tears spill from your eyes. Rolling warm, and wet down your cheeks. 

“I don’t want to marry him Mama,” a soft sob leaves you, and you bury your face into her shoulder, losing yourself in her smell once more, you forget how much you’ve missed her. Missed this, just being with her, but there’s a hollow feeling inside of you, your sister should be here, and that makes more tears form. Another tut and her arms wrap around you, a hand goes to your cheek, another to your back. “I was happy at the Temple.” 

She hums low in her throat, the hand on your back rubbing soothing circles against your spine. She is warm, and solid, a soothing presence and she lets you weep. You don’t know how long you cry for but finally the hiccuping sobs ebb and you calm. 

She pulls back her hands returning to your cheeks as she takes in your red eyes, and tear-streaked face. 

“My love, I will say this to you, I understand more than you know,” she brushes a stray strand of hair out of your eyes, curling the wayward pieces behind your ear. “I know the fear of marrying a man, much less a military man.” 

You sniffle as she gives you a weak smile. “I swore to the gods, I would never commit the sin of marrying one of my girls to someone like their father.” 

She pulls back, her hands resting on her lap, your tears have dried and you sigh, nodding, face downcast as you consider her words. 

“I swear my love, I know your sister dreamed of love, and of a grand marriage, I assure you that General Acacius is a good man,” her fingers lift your chin and your eyes meet, she gives you a final wistful smile, “it may not be a marriage of love, but…maybe it can be a marriage of equals.” 

-

The next week passes in a blur, and suddenly it’s the hour before your wedding. The final adjustments to your sister's dress are being made. You stand alone, a slave placing pins in the areas the garment might drag. 

Silently staring at the reflection in the copper before you. You don’t recognize the girl in the reflection. Your hair has been styled in the traditional bridal braids. A golden hairnet pinned against your scalp, a few strands have managed to escape. Make up paints your skin, mica shimmers on your eyelids, kohl darkening your waterline. 

The slave pauses in her adjustments, she glances up with a fearful look. 

“M–my lady, I’ve run out of pins–” 

A spark of your father’s rage courses through you, of course it doesn’t fit you it was meant for your sister. 

“Go fetch some then!” 

You don’t mean to snap but your nerves are shot as it is. She jumps and with a fearful bow leaves the room. Alone you slump, staring at yourself, unwilling to keep staring at the stranger before you. Your sister truly spared no detail, the embroidery along the edges is her finest work. With golden thread painstakingly sewn into the edges, when it catches the light it almost seems to glow like fire. The main shawl dyed a deep burgundy, is decorated with words of protection, along with her favorite flowers, pale lilies blooming along the skirt. 

I want him to think me a goddess made flesh. 

You hear her in the back of your mind, and wonder…if you should have admonished her. Maybe her vanity was her downfall, and the gods sought to correct her error. Tears spring to your eyes at the thought, no, they couldn’t have. 

She was good, and kind; her only wish was to marry and give her husband strong sons. Now she lays alone, and cold in the family crypts. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud chorus of calls from the atrium.

You hear it somewhere below, the revels have begun. The boisterous voice of your father as he jokes and cajoles with his old war fellows. The wine is flowing freely tonight, he has much to celebrate. 

“-it’s a good thing you had another one!” 

A laugh from your father as he claps someone on the back. 

“Ha! The only thing a second daughter is good for!” 

The rage sparks again, and before you can stop to think, you’re grabbing a jar of perfumed oil. Throwing it with a shriek, it lands with a satisfying shatter against the copper mirror. The thick liquid drips to the floor in a dark puddle on the sandstone. 

Your outburst has called attention to the crowd, a few moments of silence and your mother appears with the slave who left you. She gives a withering glare to the woman, who cowers, before turning her gaze to you. You clench your fist ready to fight, the rage in you growing, daring your mother to say something, anything.

“My love–” there is no time to admonish you, as a great rushing of horses and the wheels of a chariot sound, along with calls from the atrium. 

He's here. 

Before you can think your mother and the slave rush to finish the last minute adjustments, and finally the fine veil is placed over your head. You're dragged through the halls, almost tripping on the skirt, that’s still too long for your legs. 

Your sister’s belt is cinched so tight it cuts into the soft fat of your stomach, at least an old pair of your sandals fits, one of the only things of yours on you tonight. Your mother stops you just outside the atrium. The crowd is rowdy, the sweet smell of wine, the smokey herbs of the many roasted beasts, and finally the mixture of the florals from the many bundles of your sister’s favorite flowers fills your nose.

It’s beautiful, and your sister would have been beaming. You feel your stomach churn, your mother’s fingers rub soothingly along your arm, but it doesn’t quell the fear to run, the deer forced into the hunter’s trap. 

You don’t want to, but your eyes search the crowd, none of your brothers are in attendance. Your mother mentioned that all had been called away to far reaches of the Empire, one a rising commander in his own right. Another a promising scholar in Alexandria, and the last is a Senator, most likely schmoozing with the twin emperors to gain more political favor. 

Of course none of them felt it dire to come to their younger sister’s funeral, and the other’s marriage. You’re not surprised…though maybe a bit hurt, after all…they should have at least come home to give your sister her last rights. But even that is too pitiful a request compared to their great lives.

There are others here, all your father’s friends, and their wives, entertaining themselves with food and drink. Dressed in the finery expected for nobility, none of them take your attention for too long. 

You see your father speaking animatedly with someone you don’t recognize. He wears the traditional Generals uniform, the armor a pitch black, with the extravagant golden embellishments. A long red cape, fastened at his shoulder, you almost wonder if the man came straight from campaign. 

Then again…the twin emperors have been insistent that their empire grow, and the General has been the ever faithful war dog. You’d never met him in person, only the high Priestess of Minerva could bless the generals before a campaign.

You are loath to admit it, but he's handsome. In a rugged way, a strong jaw, full lips, a proud nose, with tanned skin. His beard is shorter but well kept, and his hair, was probably once a deep brown, has greyed and silvered with age, is kept in neat curls. 

His eyes remain on your father, but as if the gods enjoy your torment, seem to feel your gaze upon him. He turns, and those eyes the color of polished mahogany lance through you. 

For a moment you forget to breathe, forget to think. Those eyes take you in, just as you had done moments ago. But it’s short lived as your father spots you, and your mother. 

“Ah! Acacius, your bride arrives!” He leaves the General to come usher you over, you’re grateful for the veil, the fabric is thick enough it hides your face, so he can’t see your face very well, can’t see the panicked look in your eyes, as your father yanks you from your mother’s protective grasp. 

You want to reach out to her, to claw your way back, scream, dig your fingers into his eyes till he releases you, but resist. As he pushes you to the General, up close he’s nothing like you thought. He bows his head to you with a soft, “my Lady.” 

You respond in kind with a low bow and a muttered, “my Lord.” 

And with that the ceremony begins, with Acacius taking his place besides the officiant. One of your father’s many senatorial friends. 

Your father’s grip is a painful shackle around your wrist, the stump of his left pinky digs into your arm. 

“You will do well to make him happy girl,” he snarls beneath the music, his gaze burning a hole into the side of your skull. “It’s because of me, he accepted you, remember that.” 

You bite your cheek, the taste of copper filling your mouth as you ignore the remark, in favor of staring at the man who will take his place. 

The ceremony is short, the officiant stumbles over your name, as he clearly practiced for your sister’s name. It makes the ache in your chest grow, through the ceremony you feel the General’s gaze upon you as the final call for the gods to bless your union is made. 

“General, you may now reveal your bride, and take her to your home as is commanded by the gods.” 

Your heart has leapt from your chest to your throat as his hands take the veil and lift, revealing your face to him. 

Your eyes meet his, and he stares silently at you, those dark eyes taking you in, he leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. His lips are soft, the rasp of his beard against your skin sending a chill down your spine. The kiss is quick, emotionless, before pulling away, he glances to the side, you follow his gaze. Your mother stands beside your father, tears stream down her face, and your heart breaks seeing her in such despair. 

“Take a moment with your family, I will collect you in a moment.” 

You don’t waste a second rushing away from him to your mother’s arms, she collects you with a soft sob. You can’t help the tears that spring forth. 

“My love, my dear,” she weeps into your hair, and you cling to her, a little girl once more. Afraid of your father’s anger had you broken something, or worse he had come home from a failed campaign, and no one would be spared from his rage. 

She would be alone after this, alone with only your father for company, and he barely stayed home long enough to acknowledge her. She presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“Please…Mama, please,” a whimpered plea into her bosom, where your tears stain the silk, you look up to her eyes wide and terrified. “Don’t let him take me.” 

Her lower lip quivers, and more tears spill from her beautiful eyes, she shakes her head, her answer, and it cleaves your heart into two. She can’t stop this, no matter how much you beg, plead, all she could do was make sure he was a good man. You feel it then, Acacius’ arms wrap around your middle, the shriek that leaves you is animalistic, your fingers claw into your mother’s dress. 

“No! Mama! No!” It only takes one pull from Acacius for your mother to release you, your fingers pulled from her dress by your father. So you go to the next best thing, his arms, nails dig into skin. He grunts, the only sign of his pain, as he hauls you away from your mother who wails in chorus with your panicked shrieks. 

Your mother collapses, her palms slapping against the marbled floors in grief, your father just stands there, no better than a statue. No one will comfort your mother tonight…though you hope, somehow your sister will. That her spirit will curl about your mother’s form and give her rest. 

Or maybe she’ll spare you the horrors of the wedding night, but as you struggle uselessly against Acacius you know neither of those things will happen. As he drags you from the atrium to his chariot. You struggle, scream, and cry a final plea to Minerva to intervene. 

But alas she does not answer, and you're dragged from the safety of your mother’s arms and to Acacius’ villa where your wedding night awaits. 

-

It’s quiet in the spacious bedchamber, as you consider the marble flooring beneath your feet. Acacius hasn’t appeared since he placed you here. You don’t know how long it’s been, but you’ve ripped the veil and golden hairnet off. Your hair remains in its painful tangle of braids, you’re unsure of how to get them out without help. 

You take in the room around you, and from what you could see of Acacius’ villa like you thought it’s a luxurious home, maybe even greater than your father’s. 

You take in the fineries here, golden chairs and marble-topped tables. The fires of the braziers warm the room comfortably, and a soft breeze from the outside keeps the air fresh. The light of the fires gleam off the cups, and decanters of wine placed about the room, even the bed silks are a fine fabric you’ve never felt before. You absentmindedly run your hand over the softness, considering your options. The bed is pushed to the farthest wall, a behemoth of dark wood, and fine muslin curtains. 

Large windows line the eastern wall, to let in the light of the morning, and doors lead to what you can only assume is a terrace. Your legs twitch as you consider rushing to the doors, seeing how far the drop is, escaping into the night, the General none-the-wiser. 

But the idea is foolish, he’s a General with thousands at his beck and call, you are a noble girl, raised in the halls of a temple…You’d get no further than the city gates if you’re lucky. 

Your thoughts are interrupted as the sounds of footsteps echo into your silence. Your head snaps to the noise, a deer suddenly aware of the danger lurking somewhere in the trees.

He stands in the doorway, orange light of the fires play over his face, his eyes black pits, face unreadable. Your heart stutters in your chest, as you both consider each other. 

He’s removed his armor, though it does nothing to soothe you, he still stands with the rigidity of a military man. Prepared for battle should he need to be. You consider fighting him, but it’s a laughable idea. 

He could kill you with a flick of his wrist if he so dared, but he hasn’t moved closer. So you both remain silent, observing. 

It is a tense standoff, both of you sizing the other up, Acacius makes the first move. Taking a chair and settling into it with an exhausted huff. 

You tense, watching him as he takes a cup and decanter, pouring a healthy swig of wine, before drinking deeply. He leans forward, elbows resting against his knees, his fingertips trace the rim of his cup. 

“I am pleased to see you haven’t run yet,” he gives a humorless chuckle, and takes another drink. “I will say, this is not how I expected my wedding night to go.” 

You remain silent, waiting for his next move, he doesn’t say anything for a moment staring into the cup with a pensive look. 

“Those braids look uncomfortable,” those umber eyes meet your gaze. You can’t find your voice, so you nod. He sets the cup aside and stands, you can’t help your gaze falling to his exposed legs. The bunching of his muscles beneath his skin, the subtle strength there as he approaches you, a subtle grace to his movements that years of swordplay, and war-making has refined. The glow of his skin in the firelight, paints golden highlights along his flesh. 

A clearing of his throat stops your exploration, your gaze snaps up to Acacius, he gives you a small gesture to turn around. Tense you follow his directions, a moment of indecision, before the softest touch against your scalp. 

You can’t stop the yelp that leaves you, and the jolt of your body. The touch leaves, and there is a sigh through his nose. You wince, awaiting the strike that’s sure to come. 

Acacius surprises you again, a hand cups your chin and turns you to face him. You’re shivering, and fearfully you look up at the General. 

“I–I’m sorry–” 

“I promise, I will not strike you my Lady, I just want to unbraid your hair.” His hand is warm, his fingers large, and his palm is rough with calluses from holding a sword. You try not to notice how his hand easily encompasses your lower jaw. You nod, and again turn away. 

This time when his touch returns you steady yourself. For such large fingers, you’re surprised at their delicate caresses. As he finds the pins, and ties that keep your bridal braids in place. Slowly the pain of the too tight braids are relieved. 

His touch is gentle, the final braid is undone and he takes a moment to card his fingers through your tresses. A ripple of something courses through you, goosebumps alight along your skin. He chuckles, you finally find your voice. 

“Thank you, my Lord.” 

He doesn’t answer, instead you feel the brush of his knuckles against your cheek, again you jolt away. 

You know what must be done tonight, but you had hoped, and prayed, that he’d busy himself with his something, anything else. That you’d be forgotten and left to your own devices for the night. Acacius sighs through his nose, disappointment clear in his tone. 

“It is our wedding night—”

“I know my Lord–”

“I do not wish to force you.” 

The statement silences you, your heart pounding in its cage as you clench your fists in your lap. 

“My Lord Acacius please–” 

“My Lady,” he kneels beside you, one of his hands easily encasing both of yours. You resist every urge in your body to pull away from him, to scream, shout that you won’t allow him near you. “Your father told me, he would visit in the morning, to assure his daughter had done her duty.” 

You will give him this, he looks disgusted at the prospect, those full lips pulled into a grimace as he considers you. You glance down at his hand over yours, before meeting his gaze again. 

“Lord Acacius please, I was given as a child to the Temple of Minerva, I have no…no sense of the things required of a wife.” 

You press forward, one of your hands leaving the captivity of his to cover it. He seems surprised at the touch, glancing down at your hand before meeting your gaze again. His eyes are beautiful, and considering him for a moment, you recall your sister’s voice. 

He’s handsome sissy, you would agree. 

You can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes, you do agree, he’s handsome. A part of you was jealous that she remained at home, with your mother. But after settling in the temple you knew this life would never be yours, and some small part of you…knows that hint of jealousy still lingers, somewhere deep in your mind. It would have grown a bit more seeing who she married today. 

“You can learn–”

“I was given to Minerva,” you snap, a spike of your father’s rage, Acacius’ brows lift, a flash of surprise crosses his face. The hand beneath yours tensing. 

“What’s done is done, and your father would sooner kill you then return you to the temple.” 

His eyes darken and your shoulders slump, he’s well aware of your father’s reputation then. Well aware of the violence he so easily wielded even when not in battle. 

“But you could return me–” 

“I do not intend to.” 

That statement leaves you bewildered, and scrambling to come up with something, anything for him to change his mind. He leans forward, in the glow of the braziers he looks otherworldly, and you can’t find your voice. 

“I swear to you, I shall be a devoted husband, and I am willing to give you liberties in this union,” you consider silently, gaze going from his eyes and to his lips, “I cannot give you all the freedoms priesthood promises, but you will want for nothing.” 

You bite your cheek, searching his umber eyes for any hint of a lie. His other hand comes up once more to cup your cheek. This time you do not flinch from his touch. 

“I can make it pleasurable for you,” heat rises to your face as his thumb brushes over the apple of your cheek, “but this union must be consummated tonight, as the gods demand.” 

The silence between both of you is thick, he’s right, you know he is. There is no way you will be able to return to the temple, it is either death or Acacius. 

I swore to the gods, I would never commit the sin of marrying one of my girls to someone like their father.

Your mother’s words ring out in your mind, you close your eyes to stop the tears forming there, and nod. 

“I need to hear you,” he whispers, he’s moved closer to your face, the warmth of his breath ghosts over your lips. “Please, my Lady.” 

“I–I accept Lord Acacius, but–” you don’t know why it tumbles from your lips so freely, “but please, I don’t want it to hurt.” 

His lips press to yours suddenly, your eyes snapping open at the touch. The kiss is quick, he moves on from your lips to your cheek, then jaw, ending at your neck. 

You gasp as his tongue slips from between his lips, wetting the skin above your pulse. A heat rushes through you as his lips suck on the skin there, teeth nipping. 

Your fingers turn to claws as they grasp at his tunic, his hands shift easily, one going to cup your head. The other around your waist pulling you against him. His lips continue their exploration of your neck, finding new bits of flesh that he attends to. 

Pulling noises from you that surprise you, as a feeling courses through you, like you're hot and cold at the same time. You can feel your pulse between your legs, his mouth shifts further up your neck, Acacius pauses at your ear. 

“As we are going to be husband and wife,” he whispers into the shell of your ear, his lips sending electric zaps along the cartilage. You shiver as his voice drops to a rasp, “please call me Marcus, can you do that?” 

He nuzzles into the corner of your jaw, giving the skin another nip, a soft keen leaves you, as the nip sparks with a soft pain before dulling to a throb. As your fingers flex again in his tunic, unsure if you want to pull him closer or push you both apart. 

He has to be doing something, must have given you something, for this–feeling, this sensation to be burning through you. 

The hand at your waist is quick, fingers plucking at your sister’s belt, and it releases with a soft clink. The soft leather falls away, leaving your dress to sag, heat rises again to your cheeks and you squirm a moment. 

Acacius’ hand in your hair tightens, and for a moment you fear you’ve angered him. But all he does is move lower, the tip of his nose trailing down your neck, along the path he created with his lips. 

Marks of varying colors have bloomed across your skin, before stopping just above the cut of your bodice. Those deep brown eyes meet yours in silent question, you give a nod. The pulse between your thighs is growing. 

He works quickly finding the folds of your dress that keep it around your shoulders and covering your breasts. The silk falls away, you move to cover yourself, only the other temple maidens, and the priestess’ had ever seen you naked. 

Embarrassment fills you, should he see you, but Acacius is quick, his hands find your wrists. The short tussle sends you back onto the bed, Acacius hovering above you. He positions your hands beside your head. For a moment you consider fighting once more, thinking he intends you harm, but freeze as you see his eyes explore your newly exposed flesh. You can feel every touch of his gaze as he takes in the swell of them, your nipples pebbling in the sudden chill. 

“M–Marcus–ah!” 

Saying his name spurs him into his next move, his face descends and he presses a kiss to your sternum, then shifting to your right breast. The scrape of his beard on your skin sends flutters of pleasure through you. 

A surprised moan leaves you as his lips find your nipple, pulling the hardening bud between them, sucking lightly your body convulses. Your eyes roll, the muscles of your abdomen clench, fingers twitch digging into his knuckles as he keeps them pinned. You gasp, back arching, pressing harder into his mouth. As if your body begs for more of the sensation. 

“M–Marcus,” you whimper his name as his tongue swirls around the bud, and gives it another suck, toying with it gently between his teeth. “Marcus please!” 

Your mind is becoming a fog, unsure of what you’ve begun to beg for, but the pulsing between your thighs has grown almost painful, and even as Acacius switches to your other breast giving the neglected bud the same attention. 

You squirm, thighs pressing together, another soft moan leaves you as the pressure gives some relief. Acacius pauses in his attention to your breast, his eyes are changed, that umber brown swallowed by the dark of his pupil. He presses kisses to the swell of your breasts, before asking, “What do you need of me my Lady?” 

You whine struggling to understand his question, as your thighs writhe, you bite your lip whimpering. 

“You said it wouldn’t hurt–” 

“Where does it hurt?” His reaction is quick, he returns to your face pressing a kiss to the underside of your chin. “Tell me.” His breath is warm, and smells of the sweet wine he indulged in before all this. 

“B–Between–” it feels foolish to say it, to mention the heat between your legs, the strange throb that’s continued to grow since he began to touch you. 

“Where?” he asks again, another soft kiss to your jaw. 

“Between my legs,” you whine, the writhing of your thighs no longer offering the necessary relief. You feel feverish, unwell, your stomach tightening uncomfortably. Acacius huffs a laugh against your neck, he releases your hands trailing his fingers down your arms. Over your breasts, where he pauses a moment to toy with your nipples once more. 

Your body reacts back bowing, pressing yourself into his palms, Acaius hums appreciatively, before his hands delve lower. Pushing down the rest of your sister’s wedding gown, you’re left bare to him. 

Again the embarrassment of it floods you, but Acaius is quick to stop you, laying on his side, he pulls you against him, one hand cupping your hip, cradling it  between his legs where something rubs against you, your other hand nestled between your bodies, the other splayed to the side finding purchase in the sheets. 

Acacius pauses taking his bottom lip between his teeth whilst considering you. 

“I promise this will make the pain go away,” he whispers against your cheek, and you nod, half mad with the overwhelming sensations devouring every coherent thought. 

“Please.” You whine, and his hand slides between your legs, a noise leaves you that’s closer to a howl than anything. The rough pads of his fingers find your clit, two circle the bud slowly, teasingly. Before pinching it between them, your hips buck into his palm. He groans softly into your hair. Your fingers grasp at the sheets, the sudden onslaught of pleasure leaving you reeling in its wake. 

Only a few garbled pleas, and his name can leave your lips, it’s all your mind can remember to say. As his fingers release your clit, and return to swirling in indiscernible patterns around the sensitive bundle.

It feels like too much, the rough stroke of his finger pad against your clit, your fingers close around his wrist. 

“W–Wait–” your tongue can barely form the words, it’s too much, and if he keeps touching you like this, you fear you’re going to break. A sensation you can’t name growing in your belly, the throb between your legs. The wetness there drips down your thighs, staining the sheets beneath you. 

“T–too much, it’s too much.” Acacius hushes you, the muscles of his wrist flexing against your palm, as he continues his pattern. Every touch sends bolts of lightning up your spine, clouding your thoughts. 

“It’s alright, let it come,” he whispers against your throat, the rasp of his beard adding another feeling that makes your body ache. Muscles bunching, toes curling, your mouth opens in a silent scream as something washes over you. Overwhelms you, your nails dig into his shoulder. He muffles a noise into your collarbone. 

This must be the gods, or death, or–or something. Your body convulses, the throbbing between your legs pulses with every beat of your heart. Eyes rolling in your skull, Acacius groans as you settle. Something hard presses against your hip, but you're still caught in the undertow of whatever spell he’s placed you in. 

“M–Marcus,” you whine, as his finger toys with your clit again, the feeling borders on painful, as the touch causes another throb to race through you. “Wh–what did–” 

“To help with the next part,” he hums, his fingers leave between your legs. He pulls away from you. Body shivering at the loss of his warmth, the solid form of his body against yours, and you feel more exposed than ever before. A deer caught in the line of Diana’s arrow. As those soft umber eyes look over your exposed flesh, pausing at the swell of your breasts heaving with every breath. He pulls instantly at his wedding tunic, shucking the last article of clothing off. 

His skin is a sun kissed tan, and scars lace across the expanse of his flesh. Swords, spears, knives. All manner of brutality has marked him, as your gaze travels lower you stop. The hardness you felt against your hip, long, with a mushroom-like head, a pearl of fluid leaking from the tip. It bobs with his breathing, veins pulse along the shaft, it looks painful. You pull your hazy gaze to meet his, and your breath hitches. 

His eyes gleam in the firelight, he reminds you of the towering Jupiter, or Mars. A god made flesh, and your heart stutters as he kneels on the bed between your legs. That fear returning full force. You stumble, and scramble in the sheets. They stick to your sweat-coated skin, and you can’t escape as he settles over you. 

Caging you beneath his form, you struggle, Acacius traps your chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

“I will go slow,” he whispers, as again, tears brim along your lashes. His thumb rubs the hollow of your cheek, in an attempt to soothe. It doesn’t, as your heartbeat spikes, and your hands go to his chest weakly. His skin is rough, the scars knotted and strange against your fingers. He makes a noise low in his throat as your hands splay over his flesh. 

“But–I thought–” he settles between your thighs, you look into his eyes, pleadingly, a gasp leaves you as his length brushes against your core. He grunts, and his length twitches, you feel it, sudden and foreign. You squirm, and a hand lashes out grabbing your hip to still you. 

“Be still,” he whispers through clenched teeth. It’s a command and you listen, forcing your eyes closed, his hand leaves your hip to trail between your bodies. For a moment you think he only means to pleasure himself, but you tense as the head of his cock brushes against your cunt. 

“Acacius what–” you're silenced by the pain, though his previous ministrations helped, he’s large. The stretch of him entering you burns, your fingernails dig into his flesh, as if that will quell the pain of him entering you. 

You can’t breathe, can’t think, as all your mind can focus on is the stretch of his cock filling you. The way his length spears you, opening you, a soft whine of pain leaves you. Acacius huffs above you, the fingers beside your head curl into the sheets. He leans down forehead against your shoulder. 

“So tight,” he rasps, he almost sounds to be in pain as well. You think for a moment, maybe he’ll stop, that it’s too much for him as well. But he presses on, inch by painful inch he opens your cunt. “I’m sorry.” It’s whispered to the flesh above your heart, his lips brush the skin, sending a jolt of something through you once more. Just when you think you can’t take anymore, he settles. You whimper feeling the press of his hips between your own. 

“Acacius, please…” You don’t know what you’re begging for, as the uncomfortable fullness settles. You swear you can feel every part of him, the throb of his cock as it rests heavy and thick in your cunt a warm sort of pain that lingers behind your navel. His cock twitches and you jolt, Acacuis grunts above you, again that hand returns to your hips. 

“Y–You must be still,” he gasps, your fingers flex, you glance down, seeing the red half moons  where your nails dug into his flesh. You silently hope he felt a bit of the pain he put you through. “Tell me when it stops hurting.” 

You glance up, those eyes giving you pause, he’s watching you. Taking in every wince, every hiss of breath as he remains still inside you. For a moment you consider lying, telling him it’s too much, but as you both remain there you feel it. The burn subsides, though the fullness remains. 

You take your lip between your teeth considering him, the greatest General of Rome, waiting for your lead. You shift, and Acacius gasps, your cunt flutters around him. He shudders above you and his length throbs again inside you. 

“D–Don’t–move,” he pants his fist clenching again on your hip, his head lowering to press his forehead to your shoulder again. A stutter of breath against your skin. “Does it still hurt?” 

A whispered plea into your breast, you hesitate to answer him, fearing another onslaught of pain. His voice is soft, as his hips give a subtle thrust, “I swear my lady, I will make sure we both find our pleasures.” 

A choked noise leaves you, as his pelvis grinds against your clit, your cunt walls quiver around him. Acacius gasps, his arm shakes, and you whine. 

“Please–” he grunts, “tell me I can move.” His dark eyes meet yours and your lungs refuse to breathe, your heart stops beating for a moment, and the world slows. His skin shins with a layer of sweat, he’s trapped his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Move,” a whispered acceptance, Acacius takes it with fervor, pulling his hips back, your head falling back into the softness of the sheets. You feel every inch of him, every pulse of his veins as he pulls from your soaked core. 

Acacius curses under his breath as he begins a steady, hard rhythm. Every thrust of his hips sends new shock waves of bliss up your spine. Your cunt flutters around his shaft, with every thrust he seems to plunge deeper. 

Your legs shift, thighs settling on the solid form of his hips, the movement making you tighten. Acacius gasps, you feel it, another pulse of his cock. He grunts a hand moving from beside your head to between your bodies. Fingers finding your clit again, you keen, toes curling as another wave threatens to overwhelm you. 

“Are you close?” He huffs, his hips continue in their thrusting, his fingers dance along your clit. Your eyes can hardly focus on the man straining above you, all you can offer is another high pitched moan, your hips beginning to rise to meet his thrusts. 

Acacius groans again, his arm shaking as he pistons into you with a gratuitous fervor, the sounds of your coupling fill the room. Your skin shines with sweat, as does his, those eyes meet yours as he grits his teeth. 

His fingers press against your clit, and his cock thrusts so deep inside of you that for a moment you see stars. Your body stills, you forget to breathe for a moment, you think a scream of his name leaves you, as your back arches pressing into Acacius who shouts. 

Your cunt quivers around his length, you feel a warmth as his cock throbs inside of you. Both of you remain still, breath returning in soft pants as your vision returns to you. Acaius huffs above you, his hair, once well styled is mussed about his face. But you think distantly that it suits him, he leans down pressing his forehead to your chest. 

For a moment you wonder if you will have to remain like this, until with a slow movement Acacius pulls from you. A whine leaves you, as he pulls from your cunt. 

You lay on the bed, eyes closed, sweat cooling uncomfortably on your skin. None of your muscles wish to work, and you don’t sense Acacius still in the room. 

You’re shocked to feel…disappointment worming its way into your mind, after everything you should be grateful that he’s left you be. 

But you’re surprised again as his footfalls sound, with a tired blink you open your eyes and glance up. Acacius has put on a robe, and he kneels beside the bed with a rag, he takes his time cleaning you. 

It reminds you, for a moment, of the baths in the Temple where you would clean, and help clean other initiates. His hands are careful as he reaches between your thighs, noticing you tense he’s gentle. Careful of your still sensitive core the roughness of the rag makes you whine, hips bucking away from it. His hand steady's you as he works.

The rag cleans away the wetness that drenches your thighs, and butt. He finishes his cleaning, and then moves to lift you from the edge of the bed to the middle, carefully tucking you into the soft sheets. Your body doesn’t respond to anything, not even the want to help him does it respond, until he turns to leave. 

“Marcus,” your voice is soft, unsure, but he stops and turns looking at you, “aren’t you…going to stay?” 

His eyes seem to lighten at the question, he bows his head, “Would you like me to?” 

You nod, and he relaxes moving back to the bed he settles in beside you, careful not to move you too much. You don’t mind it though, you notice that his sheets smell of jasmine. You huddle into the sheets, staring at the general silently. 

And you consider…this marriage my not be one of love…but maybe…of equals.

[kirammanswifey]

helloo!! can you please write about ‘arcane characters when you get in an argument’? i absolutely love ur writing btw!! 🫶🏻

arguments with arcane characters x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: i love when you guys request this kind of interesting dynamics, it's so fun to write about it! also my favorite this time was sevika's, I meannn it was kinda hot and spicy. requests are open ;)

Viktor

The sound of the keys under his hands seems to fill the air, but what resonates most is the silence between the two of you. The room is steeped in an unsettling calm, while he keeps working as if nothing else exists. It’s been days since he last rested, and you know it. His skin is paler than usual, his eyes glassy, as if all the world's exhaustion is about to devour him. The scent of machine oil and metal permeates the room, but what hurts you most is the fragility of his being, the one he insists on ignoring.

Slowly, frustration begins to simmer within you. You love him more than anything in the world, but watching him so neglected, so absorbed in his work that he doesn’t even stop to eat, burns you.

You approach him, and suddenly, you can't take it anymore. Your tone isn't raised, but the fury is felt in every word. "Viktor, stop," you murmur, almost pleading. "You’re killing yourself. You haven’t eaten in days, not even slept. Do you know what you're doing? You're letting yourself go. Your body is crying out for help, and you're ignoring it."

He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t react. He keeps working as if your words don't reach him. Frustrated, you step closer. "You can't keep going like this, Viktor! What are you expecting? For someone to come and save you from yourself? This isn't just about your work, it’s about you!"

Finally, he looks up, but his eyes don’t seem to truly see you. Only a shadow of exhaustion. "I do it for them... for the people. The work... my research, it’s all that matters now."

"And you? Don’t you matter?" The anger mixes with something much deeper. Something that has to do with fear. "Your lack of self-love is so evident, Viktor, even I can see it. You're losing yourself in this obsession."

The words come out harsher than you intended. But seeing the flash of pain in his eyes, you realize what you've just said. A lump forms in your throat.

You fall silent, feeling the air grow thick. Guilt quickly invades you, and before you can think, you kneel in front of him. "Forgive me," you whisper, the anger already dissipated, replaced by sincere pain. "I didn't mean to be so harsh. It’s just... I don't want to see you like this, so lost. I don’t want you to hurt yourself because you are what I love most, Viktor."

Your hands tremble as you take his face in yours. "Please, take care of yourself. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to see you like this anymore, fighting alone against everything. Because, to me, you are everything."

Viktor says nothing at first. He just watches you, the conflict in his gaze. Then, as if releasing a sigh he had been holding for too long, he responds softly, "I’ll try... I promise I’ll try."

You look at him with a mix of relief and sadness. Finally, you stand up and take his hand firmly. "Now come with me. I’m going to make your favorite dinner. You need it."

The change in his expression is almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Something in his face softens, and for the first time in a long while, he gives you a faint smile. "You know, that sounds wonderful," he says with a tone that mixes surprise and gratitude.

As you prepare dinner, the atmosphere changes. The tension slowly dissolves, but there’s something else in the air, a silent understanding between you two. After dinner, you look at him with a mischievous smile.

"Viktor," you say, your voice full of complicity. "How many days have you gone without bathing? Because, honestly, I think it’s time you do."

He visibly shifts in discomfort, his face taking on a pink hue. "Honestly... I don’t know," he replies, as if trying to evade the question, looking down. "The truth is, I haven’t had time to think about those things."

Your laugh is soft but teasing. "I think you’ve forgotten a bit about yourself. So, what do you think if after dinner, we take a bath together?"

Viktor blushes even more, but before he can say anything, he has already conceded, and with an exaggerated formality only he can pull off, he responds, "Well... that... that would be very pleasant. If you don’t mind, of course."

The tension from before has transformed into something softer, lighter. You, amused by his so formal response, take his hand and lead him to the bathroom, feeling that, in that moment, all that really matters is that he’s finally willing to take care of himself.

Jinx

The sound of the spark igniting the fuse fills the room. Jinx has a playful smile on her face, but something isn't right. The bomb is making strange noises, as if it's about to fail. The sparkle in her eyes fades for a second, but it's accompanied by a nervous chuckle.

"What's wrong, Jinx?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. The moment feels out of place, and for a moment, you sense that something is very wrong, very out of control. "That... doesn't sound right."

But she just stands there, watching the bomb intently. She doesn't move. The air grows heavy, and suddenly, the bomb makes a terrifying click.

Your eyes widen as you see the timer on the bomb speeding up. A chill grips you, and in an instant, you act on instinct. You leap toward the table, your breath quickening, and deactivate the bomb just before it fully triggers. The explosion is seconds away from ringing in your ears, but you manage to stop it.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you quickly turn to face Jinx. She’s still there, motionless, her eyes fixed on the deactivated bomb, as if hypnotized. She doesn't look scared or relieved, just... empty.

"Why didn't you do anything?" you confront her, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and disbelief. "Why did you just stand there? You could have died, Jinx! We could have both died!"

Jinx stares at the floor, her demeanor shifting in a second. The mockery dissolves, the mask falls, and in its place appears the scared girl she so often hides. "I... just wanted to see what would happen." Her response is soft, trembling, as if she doesn't know how to process what just happened.

Those few seconds of silence feel eternal. The air around you grows heavy, as if the whole world is waiting for something else to explode. And it does. You can't take it anymore. Fury takes over, and you lash out at her.

"What did you want to see, Jinx?" Your voice is harsh, filled with frustration. "Did you want to see us both die because of your stupid curiosity? Is that what you wanted?"

Jinx shrinks, her expression transforming into something so fragile it burns your heart. Her face is filled with regret, but her eyes can't meet yours. Tears begin to well up in her eyes, but she keeps staring at the floor, feeling small and scolded.

"I didn't mean to... I swear..." she murmurs, almost in a whisper, her words choked by the pain of having gone too far.

Your rage starts to dissipate, replaced by something deeper. An irrational fear, the anguish of watching Jinx destroy herself. You walk toward her, kneel to her level, and gently take her chin, lifting it so she looks at you.

What you see stops you cold. Jinx's nails are deeply embedded in her palms, red marks that have hurt her, as if she wants to punish herself for something. You stare at her intently, the pain reflected in her eyes and her gesture.

Quickly, you take her hands, without saying a word, and kiss them softly, your lips touching the small wounds on her skin. The blood from her hands stains your lips, but you don't care. "You know I hate seeing you destroy yourself," you murmur, your voice broken by the fear you still feel. "Please, Sweets, don't do this to yourself. Don't do this to us."

You stay still, waiting for her reaction. Finally, the door that had closed in her heart opens, and Jinx lets out a deep sob. Tears fall down her face, like an unexpected rain, and her body trembles.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." Jinx sobs, clutching you tightly. There are no more laughs, no more jokes. Just pure pain. And you hold her with equal intensity, rocking her in your arms, trying to soothe her, to erase the suffering she always carries inside.

"Pain isn't the solution," you whisper, stroking her braided hair, trying to convey all the love you feel for her. "I'll always be here for you, Sweets. You don't have to carry all this alone."

She remains silent for a moment, her sobs calming, but her embrace is still desperate. Finally, after a few seconds, her eyes lift, and with a small smile, she says:

"So... want to make bombs, but in a fun way? With less blood this time!"

The laughter that follows fills the room, and even though you know the battle isn't won, this small step in her recovery gives you renewed hope. Taking her hand, you lead her back to the table with the tools, ready for another night filled with madness... but this time, with a little more care.

Vi

The air in the Undercity feels heavy tonight, a cold that seems to seep into your bones. The sound of metal echoing through the structures, the distant murmurs of shouts and laughter, mix with the echo of your footsteps on the iron bridge that crosses the dark, grimy avenue. You walk in silence, but the tension in the air is palpable.

Suddenly, a drunk, staggering with a vacant stare, approaches you. The stench of alcohol wafts from his breath, and his eyes settle on you in a not-so-friendly way. His rough, hollow laughter resonates in the air, as if nothing he was about to do mattered.

Before you can react, his hands touch your backside without warning, sending a wave of revulsion through you and a shiver down your spine.

A choked scream escapes you, but before you can push him away, you feel Vi’s furious gaze, like a storm about to break loose. The anger on her face is palpable, and not a second later, the drunk is on the ground, receiving blows that thunder like hammers. His face is soon covered in blood, and the sound of fists pounding against his body leaves a disturbing feeling in the air.

Vi doesn’t stop; each punch is more brutal than the last. People in the distance quickly disperse, leaving only the echo of the hits. Your heart races, worry consumes you as you watch Vi unleash her uncontrollable fury.

"Vi, stop!" You lunge toward her, but in the process, one of her fury-fueled punches lands directly on your lip. The immediate pain stuns you, and when you touch your face, your hand is filled with blood. The split lip burns. Vi stops abruptly, looking at her bloodstained knuckles—her own, the drunk’s, and now yours.

She stands frozen, her face, once filled with rage, now shows a look of horror. “Oh, God…” she murmurs, seeing what she has done.

You tremble, not just from the pain in your lip but from the brutality of her actions. You’re not used to violence, not on this magnitude. Fear knots in your chest, and you let out a shaky sigh as you watch Vi, her face now wrecked with guilt.

"I didn’t mean to!" Her voice is broken, as if the guilt is overwhelming her.

“Let’s go home,” you respond coldly, more out of fear than anger, "and when we get there, we’ll talk."

The walk home is silent, the tension hanging between you like a taut string about to snap. When you arrive, you enter the kitchen and quickly tend to your lip, while Vi watches silently, unable to articulate a word.

Once you finish, you turn to her. The air is thick with the weight of what’s unsaid. “Vi…” you begin, your voice soft but firm. “You need to learn to control your anger. This time, you just didn’t hurt someone else. This time, it was me too. Me, the person you love the most. Do you realize that? Do you realize how I felt when your blows landed on me?”

Her eyes fill with tears, and her throat tightens as if she wants to say something, but the words are stuck in her chest. “I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry,” she whispers, her voice breaking.

You continue, your words coming out with more pain than you expected. “Sometimes… I’m afraid of you, Vi. Not because of what you might do to others, but because of what you might do to me. I don’t want to live in fear of your rage hurting me. It hurts so much. It hurt so much.”

Vi collapses in front of you, breaking down. Her tears fall one after another, and she throws herself into your arms, holding you in a desperate embrace. “I don’t know why I’m like this… I don’t know how… how to control it. I always have this rage inside, and sometimes I don’t know how to stop it. When it explodes, everything goes to hell, I know…” Her voice cracks as she clings to you. "I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to hurt you."

The softness in her tone hits you harder than any punch, and in that moment, you know she understands. "Vi, I… I don’t want you to hurt anymore," you murmur, caressing her back. "I don’t want that rage to control you."

She pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes, her face soaked in tears. “I’m so sorry. I swear it wasn’t my intention… but sometimes…” her words trail off in a sigh.

A small, sad smile forms on your face. “Have you thought about boxing? Maybe it’ll help you release all that. And I’ll go with you! But promise me you won’t use me as a punching bag, okay?" you joke with a smile, trying to lighten the moment.

Vi finally laughs, a laugh that feels like relief. “I promise. Just, please, don’t leave me, okay?”

You approach her, tenderly kissing her, careful to avoid the wound on your lip, and you feel the softness of her lips, the calm that finally settles between you. “I would never leave you, babe,” you whisper as you both embrace, knowing that, even though everything is complicated and painful, there is something between you that always keeps you together.

Caitlyn

The door bursts open, and Caitlyn enters the room with a face marked by a fury that seems to burn inside her. Your eyes lift from where you're sitting, a little surprised by her abrupt entrance, but you quickly see what has been happening.

"I can't believe what I had to hear today," Caitlyn throws out, her voice cold and cutting as she drops her jacket on a chair. "All because of your... damn ideas of justice. Do you have any idea what that means in this place?"

You stand up slowly, the tone of her voice making the air grow denser, heavier. "What happened, Cait?" you ask, though part of you already knows it has something to do with her ideals.

"It's not just what happened, it's what's happening. All the damn time," she responds, walking toward you with contained rage. "You go on and on about doing what's right, without understanding that ‘right’ isn’t always what people in high places think. You think you can change something, but all you're doing is making it worse."

Your heart races, and a spark of frustration rises in your chest. "Make it worse?" you repeat, feeling indignation begin to spill out of you. "Is that what you think? That my actions aren't worth it? You're so blinded by your perfect view of the world that you can't see what's really going on in the streets! Evil isn't just in the ‘high society,’ Caitlyn. It's everywhere."

Caitlyn looks at you with an intensity that almost seems defiant, but also wounded. "I'm not blind, the problem is that I can't understand why you keep going against the whole system. Every time you do, you just feed more chaos. You have to think about the consequences, about the people who can't afford those ideals you're defending like you're some fairy-tale hero. Not everyone can afford that luxury."

"A luxury?" Your voice rises slightly, now stronger. "What you call 'luxury' should be a right. Do you really not understand that people are suffering? That your 'system' is letting all of this crumble just to maintain power? I can't just stand by because you think it's fine because it looks neat from your tower."

Caitlyn steps back, as if your words hit some deep place inside her. "Not everything is as simple as ‘good’ and ‘evil.’ Sometimes things aren’t black or white. Sometimes you have to make concessions to move forward. What you’re doing is just putting yourself in the center, without understanding that there’s more at stake."

The words hang in the air between you two, and the intensity of the argument seems to rise with every exchange. Caitlyn is so convinced of her point of view that you can't help but feel frustrated by the barrier between you.

"What I understand, Caitlyn," you finally say, with a tense calm, "is that sometimes you do more harm by trying to follow the rules than by breaking them. And I know your intentions are good, but I can't stay silent watching you justify the unjustifiable."

Caitlyn closes her eyes for a moment, as if taking a breath to calm herself. When she opens them again, something has changed. It’s not that her anger has disappeared, but she seems more exhausted, as if all this is wearing her down. "I’m not asking you to agree with me. I'm just asking you to understand that sometimes, even if it hurts, decisions aren’t as easy as you see them."

There's a long silence between you, the air thick with discomfort and tension. You both know you're not going to come to an agreement this time, but you also know that won't change what lies between you.

Finally, Caitlyn sighs and sits on the edge of the table, letting the exhaustion take over her. "Sometimes I feel like I can't do anything right, no matter what I try," she murmurs, more to herself than to you. "And you... you make me see everything that's wrong with me."

You move a little closer, calmer but still hurt. "Cait, that's not what I want. What I want is for you to realize you don’t have to carry all of this on your own. You don’t have to keep walking down this path if it doesn't make you happy. I’m here for you, even when we don’t agree."

Caitlyn looks at you, her eyes reflecting some vulnerability, something she doesn't usually show. "I know. I just… I’m scared that I could lose everything I’ve built because... because I don't know when to stop."

You sit next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You’re not going to lose it, Cait. No matter how much we fight, what matters is that we’re in this together. But you also have to learn to take care of yourself, not just the world."

Caitlyn nods slowly, and for the first time in a long while, a small smile appears on her face, though it’s sad. "I guess sometimes I forget that."

The tension begins to dissipate, although the brush of differences is still there. Deep down, you both know that these kinds of discussions won’t end anytime soon, but you also know that you're both moving forward for something bigger than the disagreement.

Jayce

There was something heavy in the air that night. An uncomfortable silence that hadn't been able to break for the past few days. Despite being in the same house, in the same room, you felt farther away from Jayce than ever. It wasn't just the lack of physical contact, it wasn't just the absence of the small gestures that usually made everything work between you. It was something deeper, something that had been growing inside you without him realizing it.

Finally, you couldn’t hold it any longer. You sat on the bed, staring into the emptiness in front of you, and when he walked in, that feeling of discouragement completely overwhelmed you. Without looking at him, you started.

“Jayce, I don’t know what to think anymore,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “It’s been days since… since we’ve had anything. And I’m not just talking about sex, I’m talking about everything. I don’t even feel like you desire me anymore.”

Jayce, who had been in his own world as usual, looked up at you, confused by your words. “What are you saying, honey?” Surprise was evident in his voice, but it wasn’t enough to calm the torrent that had been unleashed inside you.

“You don’t get it, do you?” You stood up from the bed, walking towards him, words pouring out like a torrent. “Every day, I feel like I’m just here, fitting into your perfect life. Everything we do, everything we plan, it feels like you’re doing it because you have to. What about what I want, Jayce? What about us?”

Jayce took a step towards you, opening his arms as if he wanted to get closer, but something in your gaze made him stop. “No… I don’t understand. What do you mean by fitting into my perfect life?”

Your breathing quickened. “What I mean is that sometimes, I feel like I’m just an accessory, another piece in the puzzle you’ve been putting together. Like what matters most to you is making everything look right, fitting, but not us. I don’t feel desired, Jayce. I feel empty, like I don’t matter, like I’m just here because I fit into your life, not because you actually want to be with me.”

The pain in your voice was palpable, and although Jayce tried to step closer, you moved away from him. “I’m so tired of feeling like we’re nothing more than two people sharing a space. There’s no passion, no connection… Just the idea of what’s expected of us.”

Jayce looked completely lost, like he never imagined you felt this way. “I can’t believe you’re saying this. You know how important you are to me. But I… I’ve been so focused on work, on everything we need to achieve, that…”

“That what?” you interrupted, unable to keep bearing what felt like a pile of excuses. “That you’re too busy to see what’s right in front of you? I have my own problems too, Jayce. Not everything revolves around your projects, your perfect image. I’m a person too, and my feelings matter too.”

The words hung in the air, between rage and pain. Jayce didn’t say anything, and that only increased the feeling of abandonment you were experiencing. Frustration and sadness took over you more and more. Finally, the silence was broken, but not in the way you expected.

“Honey…” Jayce started, his voice softer now, but still full of confusion. “I didn’t want to make you feel this way. I didn’t realize I was leaving you out. I didn’t want you to feel… unwanted.”

Your eyes filled with tears, the emotional pressure of being unheard for so long finally bursting. “I don’t want to be just another option in your life. I want to be loved, I want to feel desired, I want you to look at me like you’re afraid of losing me. And I don’t feel that from you. I feel like everything we do is a routine, just fulfilling what’s supposed to be.”

Jayce slowly approached, now understanding the gravity of your words. “I… I don’t know how I didn’t see all this. I’m sorry, honey. I really am. I don’t want to lose you. I’ve been so focused on everything else that… I’ve failed you.”

A heavy silence fell between you. You didn’t know what to think, just felt a knot in your stomach, but when Jayce took a step towards you, taking your hands, you couldn’t help but look him in the eyes, searching for some sign that he truly understood how you felt.

“Please don’t leave me,” he whispered, his tone full of sincerity. “I promise I’ll change, I won’t take you for granted. You’re the most important thing to me, and if I made you feel like you weren’t, it hurts me deeply.”

You looked at him intently, seeing in his eyes the truth of his regret. “I know… but I need you to act instead of just saying it.”

Jayce nodded, a glimpse of a smile appearing on his face as his hands caressed yours. “I will. From now on, you and I… we’re a priority.”

Your heart lightened hearing those words, and when he hugged you, you held him tightly, knowing that the road to healing that disconnection wouldn’t be easy, but at least, finally, there was a beginning. And that promise to rebuild what had been lost was all you needed to start healing.

Ekko

That afternoon, it felt like the tension between you and Ekko was thicker than ever. You had been working together on a project, and the small jokes and dismissive attitudes from Ekko, which you usually let slide, began to affect you more than you expected.

"Wow, did you really think that was a good idea?" Ekko said, his biting tone making the sarcasm leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

Your breath became heavier, and although you tried to ignore it, something inside you snapped. You looked at him, furious, and without thinking twice, dropped the tool you had in your hands. "You know what? I'm leaving."

Ekko looked at you, somewhat surprised by your reaction, but before you could walk away any further, he let out a light laugh, as if nothing was happening. "What's up, got your period or something?"

That was the breaking point.

You stopped in your tracks, feeling a lump form in your throat. You turned to him with eyes shining with frustration. "You know what, Ekko? It's because of you. Because sometimes you don't seem to think about what you say, and you don't care how I feel."

Ekko furrowed his brow, trying to understand what you were saying, but before he could speak, you continued venting.

"You make me feel like my problems don't matter, like everything I do isn't up to your standards. Always so... so carefree, like you never have to think about how your words affect me. Have you ever thought about that?" Rage and pain built up in your voice as you spoke, but the words kept pouring out like an avalanche.

And then, without warning, what you hadn’t been able to say before came flooding out. "You know what's the worst? That I feel insecure, Ekko. I feel like I'm not good enough for you, like I'm not smart enough, not attractive enough... Because you never show jealousy, you never show anything. Like you never care. And that makes me doubt myself."

Ekko went silent, looking at your face in surprise, an expression that showed he finally understood what you had just said. The mockery from his previous joke faded, and his face shifted from confusion to deep seriousness.

"I... I didn't know you felt that way," he said finally, his words soft and filled with guilt. "I never meant to make you feel that way. I'm sorry, really. I'm not good at showing what I feel, I've never been."

He slowly approached you, not trying to interrupt the flow of your emotions. "You know, I grew up in a world where showing emotions was seen as weakness. Life never gave me time to process them. Since I was a kid, I was always at war, always on the move, always worried about surviving. But I never wanted that to affect you."

Your eyes softened a little as you listened to his words, and for a moment, the weight of frustration lifted slightly. "I... I didn't want you to think I cared less. It's just that sometimes, I get so caught up in my own stuff that I forget that the people close to me also have feelings. And I don't want you to feel belittled, I don't want you to feel like you're not enough."

There was a tense silence between you both, but something in his tone softened the atmosphere. "I'm sorry, really. It was never my intention to hurt you. You're incredible just as you are, and you make me feel like I can be more, like I can improve."

For a moment, everything seemed to calm down, but Ekko, with a mischievous smile, added, "And if it helps, yeah, I do worry a little when others look at you. But I'm not so good at showing jealousy."

You couldn't help but smile a little, even though you still felt the open wounds. Ekko, seeing this, moved a bit closer and gave you a gentle hug, as if it were a small gesture of comfort you so needed.

"I really care about you. I don't want you to feel insecure. I don't care if you're smarter or not, because what really matters to me is that you're you."

And before you could respond, Ekko joked with his usual playful attitude. "Although, if I ever catch you with someone else, you'd better be ready, because I’m not going to sit still."

You laughed despite everything, feeling the tension slowly disappearing, as if everything you had kept inside had finally found a way out.

"I love you too," you replied, as you hugged him again, knowing that, although the path wouldn’t always be easy, at least you both understood each other a little more.

Silco

Silco's office was shrouded in shadows, barely illuminated by the dim glow of a lamp on his desk. The phone conversation he was having was filled with frustration. "No, that won't work. We need something more decisive, something more substantial," he growled before hanging up with a sharp click that echoed through the wood.

From your position at the door, you could hear every word, feeling the tension in the air. You couldn’t help but intervene. "Maybe you could try..." you began, suggesting a plan you had come up with after hearing his problem.

Silco looked up at you, his cold, calculating eyes locking onto yours. "Shut up. You don't know anything about this," he snapped with disdain, his words cutting through you like a knife.

The coldness in his voice felt like a blow to the chest. Without saying another word, you turned around and stormed out of the office, slamming the door with a force that resonated down the hallway. Frustration burned in your chest as you climbed the stairs to your room.

Surprised by your reaction, Silco followed. Reaching the closed door, he knocked forcefully. "Open the door immediately!" he shouted, his tone a mix of anger and confusion.

"I won't! Go away!" you replied from inside, your voice trembling with both rage and pain. A sound from inside made his heart race. Fearing the worst, he broke down the door without thinking twice.

Inside, he found you packing your things with trembling hands. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, his eyes fixed on you, trying to understand the magnitude of your decision.

"I'm done, Silco. Done with you not seeing me as someone capable of helping you, done with you constantly underestimating me," you declared, your voice trembling but resolute. "I’m a human being, just like you, and I can handle matters and plans. I’m not just a decoration in your world."

Silco scoffed, crossing his arms in impatience. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Do you want me to buy you something? You look hysterical."

That was the breaking point. You turned to face him, your eyes fiery and filled with tears. "Silco, remember where you found me. I was a worker in that horrible brothel, sold by my parents at eleven. I thought that by freeing myself, I would have a voice, that finally someone would see me as an equal. But it’s not like that. You don’t even listen to me."

Silco looked at you, his eyes softening as the weight of your words sank in. He approached you cautiously, his fingers touching your cheek with an unusual tenderness. "It's not personal," he murmured, his voice heavy with regret. "I’ve always been like this, I prefer to work alone. I’ve been through so much to earn respect in the Undercity that sometimes I minimize the opinions of others. But I never meant for you to feel this way, not you."

The wall of pain you had built began to crack under the weight of his words. "I’ll change. From now on, I’ll listen to what you have to say. In fact, tell me that plan you were going to propose earlier."

A pause lingered, but then, with a sigh, he added: "But before that, there’s something more important."

His words echoed in the silence before Silco took you by the waist, pulling you toward him. He kissed you with a passion that overflowed with unspoken apologies, a fire that spoke of promises of change and a renewed understanding between you both.

Mel

The luxurious bedroom was bathed in soft lights that enhanced the golden and ivory tones of the walls. You turned in front of the mirror, admiring how the dress flowed around your body, highlighting your curves and cascading elegantly in a fabric waterfall. The excitement of the night reflected in your eyes, waiting for Mel's approval.

When you stepped out of the dressing room, the smile on your lips quickly faded as you noticed the disapproving expression on her face. Mel looked you up and down, her gaze critical and stern. "Take it off," she ordered in a cold, distant tone. "Put on the one I chose for you."

You frowned, surprised. "Why? What's wrong with this one?"

"It’s not that there's anything wrong with it," she replied, crossing her arms with an air of authority. "It’s just not what I want for you tonight. Change your makeup and hairstyle as well. Something more sophisticated would be better."

The heat rushed to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and anger. "Nothing I do is good enough for you, right?" you exclaimed, your eyes sparking with indignation. "It feels like you always have to correct me."

Mel raised an eyebrow, her voice firm and unapologetic. "You should be grateful. I'm helping you make the most of your appearance. I need us to be perfect tonight."

"You mean you need to be perfect," you corrected, unbuckling your heels and throwing them to the floor with a sharp sound. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

Without waiting for a response, you made your way to the terrace, needing fresh air to calm the whirlwind of emotions stirring inside you. The cool breeze caressed your face as you leaned on the railing, trying to hold back tears.

It wasn’t long before Mel appeared behind you, her elegant silhouette illuminated by the moonlight. "Why are you acting like this?" she asked, her voice softer now, but still tinged with confusion.

"Seriously, Mel?" you turned to face her, your voice shaking with frustration. "Nothing I do seems right to you. You always correct me—the way I walk, the way I talk, and now even the color of my lipstick. It’s extreme and stupid."

Mel looked at you with a mix of surprise and reflection, as if your words had struck her for the first time. "I hadn’t thought of it that way," she finally admitted, her voice quieter. "I guess... I’m really hard on myself, and I project it onto others."

You took a deep breath, your eyes still shining with contained emotion. "I don’t want you to be like that with me. I’m not an extension of your standards, Mel."

Silence stretched between you for a moment before Mel took a step forward, enveloping you in a firm, comforting hug. "I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. "I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. You’re fine just as you are, and I apologize for projecting my insecurities onto you."

You leaned into her, feeling the tension slowly fade. "I understand," you replied softly. "I know you were raised to be perfect. But please, when you feel those things, communicate them in a different way. Don’t impose them."

Mel nodded, her gaze meeting yours with a mix of regret and affection. "I will," she promised. "Please, come with me to the party. Without you, I won’t have the strength to go."

You hesitated for a moment, looking at yourself with insecurity. Mel noticed and gently cupped your face in her hands. "That dress looks amazing on you," she said with a warm smile. "It highlights everything I love about you."

Her words and the kiss that followed dispelled any doubt, filling you with renewed confidence as you agreed to accompany her, knowing this time, you would go as yourself, not as a perfected version to satisfy Mel's standards.

Sevika

The apartment door opened slowly, revealing Sevika's figure in the dim light. She walked in with tired steps, the weight of the night reflecting on her shoulders. You, who had been waiting patiently for her return, stood up from the couch with relief, but as you approached to embrace her, something stopped you. A strange scent, sweet and foreign, emanated from her skin, a fragrance that didn’t belong to any perfume you knew her to wear.

Your heart raced as you took a slight step back, your eyes fixed on her. "Who were you with?" you asked, trying to keep your voice calm, although a mix of anxiety and distrust began to rise within you.

Sevika looked at you in surprise, not understanding the reason for your unease. "I was at the bar, drinking. My ex joined me, we talked a bit, had a good time." She said it with such casualness that every word pierced you like a poisoned dart.

Anger began to bubble up inside you. "Why are you talking about it so casually?" you spat, feeling your voice start to tremble.

She frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You shouldn’t have gone out with your ex!" you exclaimed, frustration coloring your words. "You owe me respect."

Sevika crossed her arms, her gaze hardening. "I do what I want," she replied coldly. "If you don’t trust me, maybe you should leave."

Your eyes widened at her comment. The idea of walking out that door tempted you, but sadness and rage kept you rooted to the ground. "Is that what you want?" you whispered, your voice shaking. "For me to leave?"

Sevika seemed to realize the weight of her words. She took a step toward you, extending her hand as if trying to stop you. "Wait, I didn’t mean that," she murmured, her tone softer, almost pleading. "You know I’m impulsive."

"Of course, impulsive... and nostalgic too," you replied bitterly, your eyes burning with contained pain. "You miss your ex, don’t you? You want to get back together with her?"

She frowned, stepping closer until her hands rested on your shoulders. "What’s your problem?" she asked, her voice low but firm. "Why are you saying all these things?"

The emotions you had kept under control for so long finally exploded. "Because I’ve been cheated on before!" you confessed, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. "I know the patterns when I see them. I don’t want to feel stupid and used again."

The hardness in Sevika’s expression melted away, replaced by deep understanding. Her hands, once firm, slid down your arms in a gesture of comfort. "I’m not those people, you shouldn’t compare me to anyone," she said, her voice firm but full of empathy. "If I didn’t want to be with you, I would tell you. I don’t need to lie to anyone. I love you, only you."

Her sincerity pierced your insecurities, breaking down the wall of fear you had built. Still, doubts lingered. "Then why did you go out with her?" you asked, still needing an explanation.

"Because it was a coincidence," Sevika explained, her gaze sincere. "We ran into each other by chance, and I thought there was nothing wrong with sharing a couple of drinks. But now I see it bothers you, and I don’t want to do anything that makes you feel this way."

Her words resonated within you, slowly calming the internal storm. You nodded, allowing the warmth of her promise to envelop you. "I want to believe in you," you whispered.

Sevika stepped closer, her lips finding yours in a deep kiss, full of promises and silent regrets. When she pulled away, her soft voice broke the trance. "Are you better?" she asked, gently caressing your cheek.

"I'll be better when you take a shower and get that cheap perfume off," you joked, your tone still slightly irritated but with a hint of humor.

Sevika laughed, a low, guttural sound that echoed in the space between you. She pulled you by the waist, drawing you even closer. "Then I’m going to need your help," she whispered in your ear, her voice laden with seduction. "Tonight, I feel especially incapable."

Your smile widened, a spark of mischief lighting your eyes. "I guess I can help with that," you murmured, letting the intimacy of the moment take over, knowing that despite everything, you were in the place you wanted to be: by her side.

[jejewonster]

Tag, You're It.

he chased me and he wouldn't stop. tag, you're it 𖥔. ˖ ࣪𓂃 

⊹ ִ۪ ֗ ּ ۫ ִ  pairing: l.sm x f!reader ⊹ ִ۪ ֗ ּ ۫ ִ  genre: smut, dubcon (MDNI 18+ only)

⊹ ִ۪ ֗ ּ ۫ ִ  wc: 3,090

— seokmin abhors your clear distaste for him. and he’ll do just about anything to change that. ⊹ ִ۪ ֗ ּ ۫ ִ  smut tags & warnings: DUBCON, somnophilia, deflowering, corruption kink, oral (reader), creampie, multiple positions, mating press. slightly yandere!seokmin, reader is a lightweight and gets drunk easily. narcisstic!seokmin, reader is 'drugged’ by seokmin, if i have missed any warnings please let me know. ⊹ ִ۪ ֗ ּ ۫ ִ  a/n: read my guidelines. please do not take these warnings lightly. don't like, don't read, and feel free to block me if this isn't your cup of tea. thank u to @sunniques for beta-reading ♡.

seokmin has spent his life playing the good boy role, hiding behind the facade of someone well-liked, kind, and attentive. everyone knows him for his charming persona, everyone is in love with him. 

except you. 

he didn’t understand your clear disdain for him. you had always done everything in your power to avoid him. the more you ran away, the more it intrigued him. 

the first time he laid his eyes on you, he wasn’t sure what to think. you were obviously attractive and a little shy, but your beauty was not something that could be described so simply. 

the more he tried to interact with you, to get to know you the more you pushed him away. leaving group conversations mid-sentence, sitting on the opposite side of the lecture hall… you were too obvious. 

seokmin hates when he cannot control how people perceive him. he needs to fulfill the expectations he had set: the perfect man. and if you didn’t fall for it, then he would just have to take matters into his own hands. 

…

his plan is simple— or at least simple enough for him to execute without getting caught. 

it’s the end of midterms, and your classmate somehow was able to convince you to join in on the group hangout. sat in the very corner of the booth, you looked around with eyes reminiscent of a newborn fawn. wide-eyed and just so lost. 

seokmin can help with that. 

“hey, anyone down to do a round of shots?” he asks the group, looking around to find everyone humming in agreement. 

boring holes into your figure, he sees that you’re the only one who seems reluctant to take a drink. well, seokmin can’t have that. 

you were quite the people pleaser, something he found out through his observations. it can’t be that hard to get you to at least take one shot. 

“are you not drinking?” your only acquaintance out of the group asks. 

turning to look at her, you shrug your shoulders. 

you didn’t have a ride home tonight, but you didn’t live too far. if you somehow find a way to stay sober, it won’t be too hard to slip out without anyone noticing. 

“i think i’ll pass, gotta walk home later,” your voice is meek, but your friend can’t help but frown. 

she shakes your shoulder as if attempting to pull you out of a trance. 

“c’mon! just one? we’re all here to celebrate!” she continues to push. 

filled with uncertainty, you reluctantly agree to her demands. it might be the only way she shuts up. 

sighing, you give in. “fine. just one. i’m too much of a lightweight though, so after that, i’m done.” 

a cheer erupts from her mouth, satisfied in being able to convince you to “let loose” for once. 

you don’t even know how you even got here in the first place. and you definitely didn’t think seokmin would be joining either. but now that you’re sitting there, in the corner of the booth, you know there’s no way to escape him now. 

it’s not that you hated him. god, no. you just had a bad feeling about his persona. it was almost like he was too nice. you weren’t sure what had your intuition swaying the moment you laid your eyes on him, but you simply can’t shake the eerie feeling that he gives off. 

“shots are here!” seokmin announces, handing everyone a glass. his charming smile practically blinds you, but anyone who isn’t entranced by him can see the dark energy behind his gaze. 

the way his smile never reaches his eyes, no matter how hard he tries. it had shivers running down your spine. who is the real lee seokmin? 

by the time there’s one shot remaining, your eyes meet. heartbeat drumming incessantly in your chest, you watch as his eyes piece through your very being. 

“you gonna take it?” he asks you. 

the breath in your throat is caught. this is probably the first time he’s ever spoken directly to you, and it has you shifting uncomfortably in your seat. 

“u-uh sure? why not?” you chuckle nervously before grabbing the glass out of his hand. 

placing the rim of the shot glass to your lips, you swallow the alcohol without a second thought. seokmin’s eyes burn into your soul as you swallow every last drop. you weren’t sure why he was observing you so intensely, but you tried your best not to think too much about it. 

… 

an hour passes and seokmin continues to keep his undivided attention on you. the shot glass he gave you was stronger than the rest, and he could only hope that’s all he needed to do to get you pliant for him. 

your eyes are glossed over, staring into the distance. even in a drunken state you’re still so quiet. he can only wonder how loud you might get once he gets the chance to fuck you. 

“you doing okay?” seokmin asks as he slips into the empty space beside you. 

everyone else at your table is too drunk or too busy to even pay attention to either you or seokmin. he can’t help but congratulate himself inside his mind, everything always works out in his favour. 

“yeah, just feeling tired. i-i think i should go home,” you mumble. 

exiting through the other side of the booth, the side seokmin wasn’t sitting on, you tumble out of the cramped space with clumsy steps. 

you’re on the verge of falling over, so seokmin quickly steadies you, grabbing your waist with lightning speed. the blush on your cheeks is obvious, both from embarrassment and the little alcohol you had taken. 

his face inches towards yours, the same ominous smile on his lips. 

“let me give you a ride. it’s not safe to walk alone this late at night.” 

… 

seokmin snatches the keys from your bag, your body slumped against his side as he unlocks your front door. with ragged breaths against his neck,  his arm is wrapped tightly around your waist. 

the alcohol is doing wonders. 

you were practically in and out of consciousness. seokmin had no idea it would have this much of an effect on you. Even though you did seem like a lightweight, he was assuming you were able to take more than one shot. obviously, his assumptions were very wrong. 

the effects of the alcohol should be wearing off soon, but that didn’t matter to seokmin anymore. he had you in his clutches and he has no plans to let you go. 

without wasting another second, he makes his way to your bedroom. opening and closing each door until he’s found your safe space. 

the last door down the hall by the bathroom. your room is cute, typical for someone of your age. several manga line the shelves of your bookcase, but he has no interest in indulging in your hobbies. not when you look absolutely ravishing under the moonlight that peeks through your curtains. 

your eyes are closed as you snuggle into his side. he can feel you twitch every so often, breaths shallow and warm. 

laying you onto your mattress, seokmin doesn’t waste any more of his time. his cock straining against his pants at the very thought of you taking him in every possible way that he’s been imagining. 

you flip onto the bed, your brows furrowing from all the sudden movement, but your eyes stay shut despite all the commotion. seokmin is unbelievably hard now, to the point his cock pulses at the sight of you. 

the sinister smile on his face intensifies, staring down at you as you stir in your drunken state. laying there, you stir in your vulnerability like a mere fawn waiting to be hunted like prey. everything had fallen into place so easily, it’s almost like you were destined to get your cunt fucked by him. 

seokmin’s hands roam your body with deliberate fervour, squeezing your thighs till they quiver open ever so slightly. his nails imprint your skin with half-moon-shaped marks. how did he get so lucky?

the whimper you let out resonates in his eardrums, clearly the drink he gave you was just enough that you’re at least reacting to his touch. 

“bet you taste like a fucking dream,” seokmin whispers. 

whether you register his words at all doesn’t matter to him. he just wants you as his little cock sleeve. to fuck, to cum into, everything. seokmin fantasizes about a time when you’ve become so pliant to his wishes, bouncing on his cock and taking everything he gives you. 

his nose trails along your inner thigh, inhaling your scent until he’s face to face with the wet patch staining the cloth of your lacy thong. only a complete slut would be turned on over something so simple. with a deep inhale, he gets one last whiff of your sweet nectar before he dives in. 

tearing your panties with calculated movements, seokmin mouths at your pussy, making out with the folds of your delicious cunt till your slick drips from his chin. the juices that flow from your hole show just how much you truly are enjoying this. how could you not? seokmin is the perfect guy for you. 

a little shove and you’ve fallen right into his trap. 

there’s one hand gripping at your thigh, while the other starts to ascend to the peak between your legs. his fingers prod at your entrance, sticking two digits in before curling them inside you. seokmin groans against your skin, the squelches that emit from you cause his cock to twitch even more than before.

a few seconds pass until seokmin is satisfied with the defilement of your virgin hole. agile fingers crawl towards the notches in his belt, unbuckling the leather from his waist until his pants plop towards the hardwood. 

as if on cue, your eyes snap open, although that's the least of seokmin’s worries. if anything, your sudden consciousness has turned his night into a great one. 

“oh. you’re awake,” he grins down at your half-naked body, tongue shooting out to lick his lips. 

“w-what are you doing here?” your voice wavers, eyes wide and filled with fear. your thighs clamp shut as you feel the cool breeze gust against your bare pussy.  

seokmin chuckles, his figure brooding over your defenceless body, cock exposed, long and standing proud; ready for you to take without a complaint. one of his large palms grazes against your knees until they force your legs open again. 

“you invited me here.” 

“no? i would never…” you trail off, but the past few hours were all a blur. 

as you try to recall this past night, your memory falls short. the last thing that arises from your mind is the cold rim of a shot glass brushing against your lips. 

your worst nightmare doesn’t dare speak, waiting for you to finally realize that situation you’ve been put in. parallel to a debilitated sheep in the hands of a ravenous wolf, you’re left to die in his hands. 

fuck everyone. fuck your classmate for peer pressuring you to drink that damn shot, and especially fuck seokmin for taking advantage of you. 

“fuck you,” you spit out, but your mind is still swimming. the alcohol had affected you more than you’d like. 

the thought of even trying to defend yourself only leaves you feeling sick. dazed and confused, you lie beneath him in utter despair. 

“you will, and just know i’ll make it worth your while,” seokmin leans down, lips sweeping over yours. “you’re quite the lightweight. couldn’t even take a second shot before you’re begging me to take you home.” 

the pulse in your veins intensifies, the heartbeat drumming within your chest could probably pierce your flesh till blood splatters against your torso. 

“be a good girl, yeah? your pussy is already soaking,” seokmin whispers in your ear, licking right underneath it sensually. 

your breath hitches and he smiles against your neck. his hands grip your thighs once more, his tip prodding against your folds. your body is on fire, it shouldn’t feel this good. 

“w-wait,” you whimper. 

“i think i’ve waited long enough, you’re already prepped, i made sure.” seokmin grumbles before leaning back to sheath his hard cock inside you. 

it all happens without a second to spare; you’re completely filled. the hilt of his dick presses against your pelvis, and seokmin groans into your ear. his eyes roll back as he becomes suffocated in your heat. rutting against you, he relishes in the way your walls squeeze him. nothing beats an untouched pussy waiting to be stuffed to the brim. 

“you’re gonna cut my dick off, that’s how tight you are,” seokmin grunts. 

the palms of his hands slide to the underside of your thighs, forcing your legs flush against your chest. 

“p-please. i don’t want this,” you beg, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. 

seokmin doesn’t even acknowledge your useless pleas. instead, he continues to ram his length into you, and you can’t ignore the pleasure that comes along with his malicious undoing. 

your stomach caves in as he trails kisses along your neck. this shouldn’t be happening, especially to you, but as he continues to fuck you, your mind begins to reel. this shouldn’t feel good, but there’s something about the way his balls smack against your ass that leaves you panting. 

“s-seokmin, fuck, i can’t,” you purse your lips, but your attempts to stay silent fail. 

“keep talking, baby, wanna hear you beg for it,” seokmin shudders. every time he speaks, your pussy clenches even harder. the juices that coat his dick and the snap of his hips fill his ears like a symphony. 

“i don't want this, please,” but your moans say otherwise. 

“pretending you don’t want me to fuck you just makes my cock harder,” he chuckles while releasing you from his hold. 

he sits down on your bed before forcing you onto his lap. lining himself up with your entrance, he tightens his hold on your hips before bouncing you on his cock. you squeak at the new position, not prepared to have him force you into even more pleasure. 

“i-i can’t,” you cry out, hiding your head in the dip of his shoulder. 

“you talk a lot for someone who’s absolutely soaking,” he jeers, slapping your ass till your hole sucks him in entirely, “you’re dripping on me, too. tell me, are you secretly enjoying this?” 

you choke out a pathetic ‘no’ but seokmin doesn’t believe it. instead, he lifts the sweater covering your chest until you’re completely naked. the sudden temperature change has your nipples pebbling over in seconds. letting go of your hips, he swallows your left tit, tongue swirling against the erect bud. 

as he sucks on your left boob, he keeps his other hand in place, groping the meat of your ass till hand marks litter your skin. 

your mind is still glazed over— from the alcohol or the sheer pleasure you’re receiving, you’re unsure at this point. but something deep within you forces you to continue bouncing on his lap. the tip of his cock poking at your cervix and the pain of his girth bruises your pussy, but the knot in your stomach is starting to unravel. 

“seokmin, please, it’s too much,” you whimper once again, breath hot against his neck. 

“you feeling tired, princess?” his tone is filled with faux concern. 

seokmin is brimming with satisfaction. not only does he have you in his clutches, but you’re clearly succumbing to the undeniable spark of lust between you. 

“just make the feeling go away, feels like ‘m gonna pee,” you cry, unsure of whether you should be embarrassed by how much you’re secretly enjoying the way his dick is piercing you or the fact that you can’t stop the unusual build-up in your stomach. 

“you wanna cum for me, baby? it’s okay, just let it go,” unlatching from your tits, he smirks before capturing your lips into a zealous lip lock. 

the bed creaks beneath the two of you, the mattress moving up and down as your hips continue to hump against his member. 

“it feels good,” you sigh as you pull away from his plush lips. 

there’s regret in your decision to unveil your true feelings, but it has become so hard to ignore. 

seokmin is glowing with triumph, observing the way your lidded eyes exude with desire. pants leave your mouth, the redness from your cheeks trickling down to your neck. he can’t let go of you after this. he won't. 

“the faster you go, the faster this is over,” he informs you, hoping it will coerce you into riding him like a bitch in heat. 

“o-okay, i’ll try,” your voice wobbles, your hands moving to his shoulders to ground yourself. 

lifting yourself up, you slam back down onto his cock. seokmin’s brows are strewn as he attempts to savour the feeling of your pussy rubbing against his length. then you speed up, speeding up your movements until the sounds of skin and skin echo within your bedroom. 

“f-fuck, i’m gonna cum,” seokmin’s voice strains, his dick starts to twitch within your velvety cunt. 

you moan out, your eyes screwed shut. the funny feeling in your stomach snaps like a strained rubber band. the abnormal sensation flows throughout your limbs, but it’s so satisfying at the same time. 

then it comes, the spurt of semen filling your hole. he holds you tight against him as his hips stutter, the warm liquid hitting your walls until you're completely stuffed. 

you’re panting against his muscular chest, breath ragged while sweat drips from your forehead. realization hits you seconds later and you’re jumping off seokmin’s lap. 

“you need to go,” you mutter, not able to meet his eyes. 

the clothes are scattered on the floor and you make haste as you pluck your sweater near the foot of your bed. it shouldn’t matter that it felt good to have him inside you, but the thought of him fucking you against can’t help cross your mind. 

“i could go. but why should i? that pussy of yours is mine now,” seokmin shrugs nonchalantly before standing from the bed to dress himself. 

a sense of dread wreaks havoc inside you, your heart plummeting to the floor. this whole situation has you feeling powerless, but you can’t deny the spark that seokmin had lit inside you. 

“expect me to come over when i need my dick sucked, okay?” 

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo.

Black Velvet, If You Please

12 Days of Christmas Prompt: Velvet | Word Count: 1113 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Steve | Tags: Future Fic, Established Relationship, Famous Corroded Coffin, Corroded Coffin Guys, Steve Trolling Eddie, Because He Loves Him

It's tacky. Kitsch. An oversized eyesore. 

And it's perfect. 

Steve couldn't be more pleased. It's exactly what he envisioned and more when he commissioned it.

He watches the artist carefully wrap it, then with their help, Steve picks up one side of the frame, both of them wrangling it carefully so they don't drop it, and carry it out to the waiting car. Gareth's behind the wheel, engine running, like he's the driver of a getaway car. 

He kind of is. Eddie's gonna consider this a crime.

And Steve loves it.

They very carefully place it in the folded down backseat of Gareth's ridiculously huge SUV, which for the first time in history actually came in handy. Steve shakes the artist's hand, and then climbs in the passenger side. 

"Well. Let me see it," Gareth says.

"It's wrapped, you can see it when we get it to the house," Steve explains. He's definitely not unwrapping it until they get it home safely.

Gareth mutters, but agrees, and puts the car into drive. 

Heist over, bounty secured.

Once it's safely hidden away inside the pool house, Steve gently peels back the brown paper and cardboard that has been protecting it.

Gareth leans forward, as if that'll help him get a better look. It's huge. He could see it from across the lawn. 

"Holy shit," Gareth says. 

"I know," Steve laughs, delighted. 

"It takes talent to craft something so magnificently ugly," Gareth says, and Steve agrees. It's ugly because it's on black velvet. That's kind of its thing. But it's not technically bad, nowhere near. It looks just like Eddie, and cost a pretty penny, but Steve definitely got his money's worth. Because the painting is damn good, and exactly what he commissioned.

But utterly and completely ridiculous.

Eddie — on black velvet. 

Christmas is gonna be so good this year.

"Why are you talking all the pictures off the wall?" Eddie asks, laying on the couch, eating popcorn, watching the annual A Christmas Story marathon. He's said he isn't moving today, and Steve is taking advantage of that. Eddie won't ask too many questions, for once in his life. Because if he does, he's scared he'll have to help.

"Gonna dust the frames, maybe change things up," Steve says, clearing off the entire wall behind the couch.

Eddie just shrugs, and goes back to watching the Bumpus hounds wreak havoc on the turkey dinner.

And Steve turns back towards the wall, grinning to himself, as he carefully measures, then drills the new holes in the wall to anchor it. 

It's like a black ops mission. Steve crawls out of bed just after four a.m. and when he gets downstairs, Gareth, Jeff and Goodie are all standing around waiting. 

"Sorry. Overslept. I couldn't set an alarm," Steve whispers, and they just nod, looking tired. He appreciates them all getting up early on Christmas morning just to help pull this off. 

Steve stands on one of the dining room chairs, Jeff on another while the other two hold the bottom of the giant frame.

"This is a ridiculous way to spend money," Goodie grumbles.

"Says the man with so many basses that he needs storage units, plural," Gareth banters back.

"Those are for work," Goodie snaps, a little too loudly.

"Sshh!" Steve shushes.

And in an unprecedented move, they stop fussing and fighting. 

It's a Christmas miracle.

They get it hung, and the holes Steve drilled yesterday actually work perfectly. He was worried his measurements would be off, and then they'd be screwed. Eddie can sleep through anything, but maybe not power tools in the middle of the night.

"He's gonna shit," Jeff says, and Steve giggles. That about sums it up.

They scatter, back to their own homes, their own families, and Steve goes back to bed. 

With no kids, Eddie isn't exactly raring to hop out of bed first thing in the morning, even on Christmas. This will work in their advantage.

Steve stays still in bed, waiting until he hears the first signs of movement from downstairs. They're back. After having Christmas morning with their families, they've all returned to see Eddie's face when he notices this thing for the first time. 

Steve gets up, and heads down, and with help gets brunch started. They always do a full spread, the works, and today is no exception. Bacon, eggs, pancakes, biscuits and gravy, ham steak, hash browns, and every burner and the oven are being fired up all at once.

The kids are all screaming at a dull roar, showing each other their new toys from Santa, and Harrington House feels like a home in a way it never did while Steve was growing up.

He loves it.

They finally hear Eddie moving around upstairs. He's loud, by nature, so there was no chance he was gonna sneak up on them.

Steve carefully wrapped the front of the painting after it was hung, anyway, so even if he did, they wouldn't miss his reaction. 

"He's coming," Gareth says, stating the obvious.

"He's gonna kill you," Goodie says to Steve, "and I'm gonna tell him Gareth helped."

Gareth makes a noise, and Jeff steps in to intervene. They can't have bloodshed before breakfast.

Then Eddie's coming, heavy feet bounding down the stairs, and they all freeze. Waiting for him to go through the living room.

"What the fuck is that?" Eddie hollers, "Steve?!"

Steve just smiles, and throws his tea towel over his shoulder. When he walks through the doorway, everybody following, Eddie is standing in front of the wrapped painting. 

"I don't know. Santa must have brought it," Steve lies, and Eddie turns to look at him.

"What'd you do?"

"Open it and find out," Steve says, and Eddie grabs a corner of the wrapping paper and tears. It doesn't come off in full, but it reveals a hint at what's to come.

"You did not," Eddie says, as he pulls more of the paper loose.

Steve did. He definitely did.

Eddie bends over at the waist and laughs, "I hate you. I hate it."

Then, he stands up, throwing his arms around Steve's neck, "I love it. I love you."

Steve laughs, that's about what he expected. And Eddie pulls away to study it again, as all their friends hoot and holler in the background, riling him up further as they all look at it. 

Eddie, painted in his onstage glory, young and wild, on black velvet.

Steve watches as Eddie reaches out to touch the canvas, "Black velvet. Like I'm Elvis."

Yep. That's exactly what Steve had in mind.

Eddie turns back to grin at Steve, "Has Wayne seen this yet?"

If you want to sign up for a future bingo event or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun!

Notes: The "painting" image is from this statue of Eddie that's for sale. I thought I could make it look more like a painting than an actual picture from the show.

The title come from the song Black Velvet by Alannah Myles.

[startaegi]

ON THE RUN, cho hyunju. 【 CHAPTER 01 】

⤑ pairing, cho hyunju x fem!reader

⤑ synopsis, where secret-not so secret lovers, hyunju and yn find each other in the unlikely of places.

⤑ series masterlist, on the run.

⤑ chapter two, coming soon!

⤑ notes, hi welcome to my first fic on here! i haven’t written anything in years but i couldn’t not write something for my girl bcos she deserves all the love. anyways enjoy, i hope it isn’t too bad!! 🫶🏻

⤑ taglist, @etta-huracan (if you would like to be added let me know)

The day seemed to pass slowly. You spent most of it watching the hours tick by. Midnight at Hangang Bridge the robotic voice had said when calling the unknown number two days ago, a number from a card you'd received from a well dressed man in Sinchon station. Your face was still slightly bruised from that interaction, you had never been the best at playing ddakji. It was 30 minutes until 12 and you knew if you didn't leave now, you wouldn't make it on time. As risky as it was you weren't missing out on the opportunity to potentially win life changing money.

You unplugged your phone from the charger and switched off the broken lamp that did nothing to light your room. The apartment was small, all contained in one room minus the bathroom but it was the best you could get with what you have. You slipped on your shoes, eyes scanning the place one last time and eventually landing on the fridge. The note she had left was still there, her messy handwriting followed by little hearts in the corner, you could picture her folded over the kitchen island, a little smile on her face as she doodled her love onto the page. You missed her more than anything.

You quickly pulled yourself together closing the door behind you. A noise to the left startled you, keys almost falling from your hands. The sweet lady who owned the building with her son was hiding herself from view of the streets, the curtains slightly moving from the wind. "Hi, Ajumma" You called.

She turned with a smile on her face, backing away from the window. "Oh hello Y/N love" She replied. 

"Are you okay?" You questioned. It wasn't like her to be roaming around the halls so late in the night especially at her age.

"I don't want to worry you" She said hesitantly. You froze, mind instantly going to Hyunju. Did she finally come by? "Those same men where outside again, no good for nothing they are" She seethed.

Your heart sank. "Oh"

"I've been keeping an eye on them just in case but looks like they're gone now" She said, walking alongside you towards the exit. "You're leaving late? Everything okay?" She asked.

You nodded. "Going to visit a friend for a while, i'll be back in time for rent payments" You assured her, the last thing you needed was to be evicted.

She patted your shoulder affectionately. "Don't worry about that, you go have a nice time" She smiled. "You deserve it"

You paused for a second, words caught in your throat. "If-" You started. "If you see Hyunju can you tell her i'll be back soon? Tell her not to go anywhere, please" You practically begged. It would be just your luck, the moment you leave she would appear again.

Her eyes softened, a look of sympathy flashed across her face. She nodded, caressing your shoulder again. "Of course I will sweetheart. You still haven't heard from her?" She questioned.

You shook your head. It had been 30 days, an entire month since you last seen the one good thing in your life. You were left with a text message, one you'd read more times than you could count, one you could recite by heart if asked. She was leaving but she'd be back soon. At first you were angry, how dare she leave you after everything you'd been through together, with just a message through a screen. Then the days turned to weeks and your anger became worry. Where was she? Why wasn't she returning your calls or texts? You didn't want to expect the worst but in the country you lived as the people you both are, being alone wasn't a good idea. You lost sleep, your headaches not that you thought they could, somehow became worse. Your medication bottles became empty and your pockets just the same. You only hope she'll be back by the time you return and this time you'll have a bank balance enough to get you out of this place.

You finally left the building when another resident entered, distracting the older woman and making your exit, but of course not forgetting to say goodbye. The rain was heavy, bouncing against the cracked pavements. The silence is eerie. The broken street lamps flicker casting shadows on the wet pavements, your jacket doesn't have a hood leaving your hair to get drenched by the midnight drizzle. You scan the roads, no cars or people in sight. An overwhelming feeling of anxiety washes over you, a familiar sensation that mostly greets you in the night.

You don't have time to dwell on it as a beam of headlights approach you. A silver car pulls up beside you, the passenger side window rolls down. You're taken back at the person sat in the driver seat, face concealed by a black mask. They're also wearing a pink suit, their entire body hidden.

"Name?" The masked person questions.

"Y/N L/N" You reply, droplets of rain falling against your open lips.

They don't reply instead the back door clicks open. You quickly slide into the empty seat shielding yourself from the rain. You push the wet hair from your eyes only then noticing other people sat in the seats around you, seemingly asleep.

"Uh, excuse me?" You ask the masked driver. "What's-" You stop mid sentence, suddenly it becomes harder to breathe and a mysterious mist fogs your eyesight. You struggle to move your mouth, your entire body feels heavy. You feel the jolt of the car starting again and before you know it you're being sent into a slumber completely unaware of the hell that awaits you.

[wdcbox]

escape⠀⠀⋆·˚ ༘ *⠀⠀lando norris.

pairing. lando norris x gn-platonic!reader.

word count. 1.3k.

summary. a night out to forget the past turns into a moment of healing, as you find unexpected support from a distant friend: lando.

warnings. mentions of depression, alcohol and ex-relationships.

ellis’ addition. once again, please send me some rqs pretty pretty please! hope you lot enjoy this one <3 dedicated to the lovelies @lechrts @therealplaguedoctor and @planetpedri ♡

the club was alive, a pulsing mass of energy that swallowed you whole. music thumped in your chest, a low bass that made the floor beneath your feet vibrate. neon lights painted streaks of pink and blue across the dark, smoky air, catching the glitter on your dress and making it shimmer. you were supposed to feel invincible tonight – this outing desperately needed as a form of a pick-me-up. you had promised yourself this was your moment to let go, to dance, to laugh, to forget.

the past few weeks had rolled on painfully slow as you became stuck in your head. you denied that you were depressed – saying this was one of your spouts of seasonal sadness – but none of your friends believed you. after all, they knew you more than you knew yourself – maybe even too much.

you let your body sway on the dance floor in a huddled circle with your friends, some 2000s club music working to drown out your thoughts. part of you felt free – alive again – as you moved your body to the beat. your worries started to float away in the wind, the slightest bit of intoxication overtaking you. 

just as you began to relax, you saw him. dylan.

your breath caught in your throat, your heart freezing mid-beat. dylan was at the bar, casually leaning against it like he owned the place. his dark hair was slightly mussed, his leather jacket the same one he’d worn on your first date with him. he hadn’t changed. if anything, the months since your breakup had only made him more self-assured, more magnetic – and that made it worse.

with a deep sigh, you slowed your dancing, your cocktail trembling in your hand. a wave of nausea rolled through you, panic prickling at the edges of your mind. with a sharp turn, your eyes scanned the crowd for an escape. your friend julia had disappeared to the bathroom and maddison was near the entrance sizing up a man. you felt hopeless, but thats when your eyes found lando.

lando wasn’t dancing like the others. he stood on the edge of the dance floor, drink in hand, his easy smile lighting up as your gaze met with his. though It only faded the moment he saw the look on your face.

“hey,” lando spoke, stepping closer. his voice was warm, steady, cutting through the noise like a lifeline. “you okay?” his voice was a bit louder, giving you the ability to hear his words over the loud bass of the music.

you swallowed hard, your throat dry. you hated to be so vulnerable, so open to lando, but he was offering help that you desperately needed. you let out a sigh, motioning over your shoulder, “dylan’s here.” the words felt foreign on you tongue, like admitting them would somehow make it worse.

lando’s brows knitted together. he wasn’t completely familiar with what had happened between you and dylan, but he was aware the breakup was quite nasty. lando has heard stories from friends, yet he found himself out of the loop.

obviously, seeing your ex at a bar wasn’t the best thing that could happen, but lando itched to know what had happened. despite his slight cluelessness, the look on your face told him everything he needed to know: dylan was anything but a good guy.

“where?” lando questioned, his eyes beginning to scan the room. you tilted your head toward the bar, too afraid to turn and confirm what you’d seen. lando’s expression darkened as he followed your gaze, his normally relaxed features hardening.

“alright,” lando spoke, his voice low but resolute, “we’ll handle this. stay with me.” his voice was at a hum, his words still audible over the music. though you and lando hadn’t seen each other that much in recent times, he still managed to be such a caring person.

you let out a shaky sigh, your eyes locking on the brunette infront of you. you wanted to leave — to run away — but you knew it would somehow make you feel even worse than you already did. despite your thoughts, you croaked out, “maybe i should just leave—”

“absolutely not,” lando interrupted, his tone firm, “you’re not running from fun and you’re most certainly not running from him. he’s an asshole — just let lose and forget about it.”

before you could argue lando, be shifted closer, his broad frame a quiet shield between you and the rest of the club. the world narrowed to the two of you, lando’s steady presence anchoring you somehow.

“come on,” lando ushered, his hand brushing your elbow. it was a light touch, casual, but it sent a warmth up your arm that caught you off guard.

lando guided you through the crowd, his movements deliberate but unhurried, as though he were giving you time to breathe. the two of you wove through clusters of dancers, past couples laughing and swaying under the shifting lights. every so often, lando glanced over his shoulder to check on you, his eyes soft with concern.

“here,” lando spoke up once the two of you reached a quieter corner of the club. the neon glow barely reached this far, leaving the space shadowed and calm. lando leaned against the wall, his posture casual but his gaze alert, scanning the crowd.

you sank into a booth, your hands still gripping your glass like it might steady you somehow. “i hate that he can still do this to me,” you admitted, her voice barely audible over the distant thrum of music, “not matter how much i saw i’m over him — it’s like he still has this chokehold on me.”

lando slid into the booth across from you, his eyes locking onto yours. “it’s not about him. it’s about how bad he made you feel. dylan made you feel like shit and he deserves to feel like shit in return — stay here with me, ok? show him how happy you are and make him regret ever breaking your heart.”

lando’s words settled over you, quiet but firm, like a vow. you had never heard lando speak like that, but part of you found yourself inspired by his words. you felt your chest loosen, the tight coil of panic inside of you beginning to unwind.

“yknow, for a race car driver — i feel like you always know what to say,” you teased, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. lando shrugged, a small grin breaking through his seriousness, “it’s apart of my charm. plus — i have to know how to answer interviewers stupid ass questions.”

you laughed softly, the sound surprising you. for the first time in weeks, you sort of felt alive again. despite that fact your ex stood feet away from you, you couldn’t help but feel relaxed. the world kept spinning and your smile grew more.

for the next hour, the two of you lingered in the shadows. lando kept you entertained with stories and dry humor, his presence so steady it felt like the eye of a storm. he didn’t push you to go back out onto the dance floor, didn’t force you to pretend you were fine. he just stayed, his focus entirely on you, like nothing else in the world mattered. and slowly, it started to feel true.

when you finally worked up the courage to glance toward the bar, dylan was gone. you didn’t know when he’d left, and for the first time, she realized she didn’t care.

“thanks for this,” you spoke, your voice soft as you showed your gratitude towards the boy. lando leaned closer, his face shadowed but warm under the dim light, “anytime.”

it wasn’t much, just a word, a look, a fleeting moment. but it was enough to make you feel like yourself again. and for now, that was all you needed.

[amorre1989]

strange visit and a date night

pairing: Spencer Reid; reader; Derek Morgan

word count: 3,8k

story?: After Spencer runs to the grocery store to buy some things to have a date night with you, but, to surprise of both of you, agent Derek Morgan suddenly shows up at his door.

"alright so, eggs, flour, garlic, wine and tomato sauce, is that it?" he asks checking on the list you just gave him.

"perfect" you answer smiling.

"alright, I'll be back in a second" he says, kissing you softly while holding the back of your head gently. You smiled and let him get out of his own apartment. While waiting for him, you decided to do a little cleaning, you had already become a master in "Spencer Reid's ethics for deep cleaning a house", so cleaning the way he likes was easy as pi (as he would say).

While you were trying to get rid of a stain of sauce from a plate you heard a knock, honestly you just walked to the door you didn't even think about the knock not being Spence, so you opened it. There, standing in front of you, was a dark skin man, very tall and ripped, and bald.

You smiled and he looked surprised.

"uhm, I'm sorry, I think I got mixed with the numbers..." he said, checking again the number of the door. "mhm..weird"

"are you looking for Spencer Reid?" you asked, then you saw his face changing from confusion to super confusion.

"I am, yes"

"this is his apartment, he went grocery shopping"

"are you?...staying with him? or are you maybe being tutored or something?" "tutored?" you thought.

"no, I'm his... something" you said, you haven't discussed it yet...so it would be better to just leave it there.

He burst out laughing and held himself in the doorframe, you smiled, thinking it was funny.

"sorry, are you his friend?" you asked

"I'm Morgan, yes, I work with him" he said exchanging hands with you.

"oh!" now it all made sense "yes! of course, he always talks about you, come in please, if you wanna wait for him"

"I do! yes, thank you baby".

You closed the door and waited together for Spence while sipping coffee and chatting, being interrogated too "how'd you too meet?, how long have you been seeing each other?, do you live together?, why hasn't he said anything before?". So many questions you didn't know how far you could answer.

Then, you hear the sound of the keys opening the door.

"inflation is crazy, and old women should learn to calm down, that woman thought I wanted her stupid cat sand and we don't even-" he stood still, observing the image, you, his now 6 month old not girlfriend, and his womanizer attractive coworker, sitting on his couch together while apparently have been drinking the coffee he bought for you.

"hey pretty boy" says Morgan smiling "you didn't tell me you have a girlfriend"

"I uhm...what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to ask you if you- don't avoid my question!" he says standing up, are they gonna fight?, no, he'll finish Spence.

"it's private" he says leaving the bags and looking at you, you just smile, agreeing, it is private...well not so much because everyone knows but it's not like it's official.

"would you like to stay for dinner?" you ask.

"no!" shouts Spence from the kitchen, you and Morgan look at each other and chuckle.

"no, we had a date night planned" he says coming back to you both.

"alright, alright, I'll leave you too alone then...I came because I wanted to ask you where you buy your clothes, I need to wear something like your shirts to an event" he says.

"I'll send you the info later...just leave" he says pushing him out of the house, you laugh.

"goodbye princess" he says and you wave at him.

Spencer closes the door behind him standing with Morgan at the hallway.

"that's a pretty one you have there" says Morgan smiling

"she is, yeah, she's beautiful" Spencer says blushing

"why didn't you tell me?" Morgan asks

"it's just...I wanted to check this was real and not insignificant before saying anything"

"are you gonna ask her to be your girlfriend?" he smiles, he thinks Spence is such a girlfriend dude.

"I will...yeah, but I need to confirm she wants me to be her boyfriend first" he says

"I bet she'll say yes...so, date night huh?". Spence nods "what will your dessert be?" he asks laughing, Spence blushes but smiles and pushes him towards the elevator.

He waves goodbye to Morgan from outside the elevator and then comes back to you (as usual).

When he opens the door you're the first thing to his sight, taking out the groceries.

"so inflation is crazy?" you ask getting closer.

"yeah, and old ladies" he says pouting. "this was horrible, I never imagined Morgan would come to our house".

You smile at the sound of "our" house.

"let's start cooking for our super fun date night" you say and kiss him.

After Morgan leaves, you too start to cook. Tonight's menu is pasta! which you both love, now you're teaching him how to play with the seasonings and discover new flavors, you've made that since you got into Spencer's life, teach him how to experience, not only in cooking, in sports, your culture, places, and a lot of things Spencer always brought up when talking to the team unconsciously.

Now he's chopping garlic next to you, while you open the tomato bottle and pour it in the pot.

"you know? garlic is a great cleaner for the liver, in women it can help with vaginal infections, bloating from menstruation, it can even help the blood flow and It can help reduce bad cholesterol and triglycerides, and increase good cholesterol" he says while putting the garlic into the pot, you smile and kiss his cheek.

"good for me then, how about for you?"

"Garlic may help reduce the risk of cardiovascular disease, strengthen the immune system, as it contains antiviral, antibacterial and antioxidant properties, It can help fight skin infections, such as athlete's foot and ringworm, as well as intestinal infections" he says smiling at you.

"sounds good, we should eat lots of garlic then" you say and kiss his cheek. He smiles and blushes and starts to chop some carrots and meat. You open the cabinet and give him another board for the meat, then you open the drawer and give him another knife.

"different knives and boards baby" you say while taking the pasta from another cabinet.

"right" he says, not in a bad mood though, in a way that shows he understands and listens to you.

When the pasta finishes cooking you mix it with the sauce together, then you both set the table and he runs to the living room.

You take a peek but you aren't able to see anything besides the door, then he puts a red candle on the center of the table and lights it on, you smile and he smiles.

"how prepared" you say teasingly.

He smiles and kisses you, so sweet and comfortable, his lips are where yours should be stored always.

You have dinner discussing a book you read together and how pretty both of you look tonight.

"your friend Morgan's cool" you say.

"yeah, he's funny" he says. You wipe a stain of sauce from his lips and he smiles, almost spitting the pasta from his mouth as you laugh, then he laughs along.

"you make me nervous..." he mumbles looking down at his plate.

"why?" you ask giggling.

"you just do" he says smiling, he leans and kisses you.

After dinner comes dessert, which was shared ice cream while laying on the couch watching a movie, you interrogate him with questions like "what would you do if..., or what do you prefer?..." which makes him laugh but think.

That's your night, those are your nights, as usual, filled with love and laughs, while he strokes the skin he's able to reach. Once he told you he was a germophobe, now you can't believe it because how can Spence, the man that's all day with his hands on you, when you cook, when you get dressed, when you're brushing your teeth at the same time, when you're sleeping, even unconsciously, be a germophobe?.

Soft strokes on your bare leg, his index finger stroking your thighs, then your calves that he pulled on his thighs, then kisses, kisses on your legs which he says he loves so much. Suddenly he's above you, soft kisses from the ice cream and the warmness from his skin covered in a shirt.

You can hear the credits of the now finished movie, but that's not something that's gonna be the principal of your attention, you focus on his lips on yours, on your neck, then on the feeling of his fingers brushing against your skin while unbuttoning your shirt to after feeling him kissing and licking your chest, you focus on thinking about how he's leaving marks on you that say "Spencer was here". Morgan was right, you were gonna be the dessert afterwards.

[yamumsyadadd]

the forgotten girl (11)

originally posted on my old account. Trip loading twice weekly :)

Alexia’s pov 

“Ale please stay. Don’t leave me, please.” Hearing her beg for me not to leave her broke my heart. 

“I’ll be right back bebé, I’m just getting some water.” 

Alba and Mami were sitting on couch when it went out to the kitchen. 

“She asked me not to leave, so I’m going to go back in there. You should go home. Thank you for your help.” I set back off to Amelia’s room. The heart breaking scene of her curled into a ball, her eyes red and swollen, and the sound of sniffles through the air. 

I put her phone on charge and her water bottle on her bed side table, quickly making my way to the other side of the bed and climbing in. Pulling her into my arms and holding her until she fell asleep. After she had been asleep for half an hour, I messaged Keira and Lucy. Telling them I had Mil and asked them to come to her apartment. I didn’t know what to do. Im not good with my own emotions, and helping someone who is so deeply hurt is new to me. 

Keira Walsh: I’m here. Let me in please. 

Reluctantly, I got up, slowly in hopes to not wake Mil. The afternoon sun has lit up the apartment, it was bright and golden, a solemn contrast to the way Mils room felt. Opening the door, I was shocked to see someone else with Keira. Leah Williamson. 

“Hi Alexia.” The England captain shyly said. I opened the door further to let both women in. 

“Sorry, I thought it would be best to call Leah. She knows everything that happened with Milly and she got on the first flight here.” I nodded my head in understanding, that was smart in Keira’s behalf. 

“Is she asleep?” 

“Yeah. She was at the beach surfing and Mami bought us back here. She was just sitting in the shower with boiling water on her, she looked.” I had to take a second to compose myself, I would not be crying in front of Leah. “She looked broken.”

Keira and Leah just looked at each other. Sharing knowing looks and then Leah spoke up. 

“She said she loved you, right? That’s what caused this?” 

“Yes.” 

“I think we should all sit down. You need to hear this Alexia.” 

There were a few things in this world that make me anxious. Meeting my sisters new girlfriends, doing interviews in English, teenage boys and Amelia Higgins. 

“Okay so obviously you know the public details of what happened with Emily and her?” 

“Si” 

“Emily was going to end things. She had written down on a piece of paper everything she wanted to say. Basically consisted of that she was still in love with Mil. Mil was still her favourite person and that Mil was her soulmate, but Emily wasn’t hers.”

“Right? Okay?”

“Emily always knew that Mils heart didn’t completely belong to her. I think she hoped that over time it would change but it never did. Mil has always loved you.” 

I didn’t say anything. This was a lot to take in, her own friends telling me she has always loved me? What could’ve happened if I had said something earlier? Ended things with Jenni earlier? 

“Ale.” Keira grabbed my hands, taking my attention away from ripping my nails off. “She doesn’t want to love you because she’s scared. After being given the note, she blamed herself. Mil thinks she caused this. She doesn’t want anything to happen to you or to your family. If you truly love her like I think you do, you’ll need to let her come to you. There’s nothing more I want than to see you both happily together but that won’t happen unless she comes to you.” 

“I’ll wait for her. I don’t care how long it takes but I won’t leave her.” 

We didn’t talk after that, the sun started setting and they were talking about ordering food for dinner. 

“I think I’m going to go home. I think it’ll, uh, it’ll be better if I’m not here when she wakes up.” 

Before Leah or Keira could reply, Amelia yelled out from the bedroom.

“Alexia? Alexia? Fuck ale please come back. I need you to come back.” her voice broke, thinking I’d left her when she needed me the most. Running back into the room, I quickly climbed into the bed and pulled her into my chest. 

“No amor. I’m here. I’m not leaving you, okay? I’m here.” I felt her nod her head against my chest, then her tears slowly wet my shirt. I didn’t care about Keira or Leah in the lounge room, all I cared about was Amelia and making sure she felt safe and comfortable. 

Leah came in a short while later, letting me know she would be staying in the spare room and to yell out if either of us needed anything. As I lay there with Amelia’s head on my chest, her arms wrapped tightly around my waist, and mine around hers, the only thing I could think of is how I could get used to this feeling. Selfish I know but it’s the truth. 

By 9pm, the house was completely quiet and dark. Everyone was sleeping or enjoying the peaceful evening. 

As the sun came through Amelia’s bedroom curtains, I felt lighter. Slowly opening my eyes I noticed she wasn’t in the room, the side of the bed she slept in was cold, her phone was gone and her favourite hoodie and wetsuit that hung on the back of her door. She was surfing. Of course. Deciding now was the best time to leave and go back to my own house, I quickly made her bed, opened her bedroom window and got the bottles of water to put in the bin. 

I had forgotten Leah was there, Keira seemingly had come too. 

“Morning capi” Keira handed over coffee. 

“Gracias.” Inhaling the smell of coffee before taking the first sip. 

“Is she awake?” Leah jerked her head towards the door. 

“She’s surfing.” No one said anything for a moment. “I’m gonna go. I’ll see you later.” Turning quickly , before either could stop me. 

I sat in my car contemplating what to do, I thought about messaging Alba, but it was too complicated. Mapi was next, but again, complicated. The only person I truly wanted to talk to was Amelia. But I wasn’t sure if she wanted that. Despite the thoughts telling me to leave her alone, I made my way to the beach. Stopping to get her a coffee so she could have it when she got out. 

Since it was still early, it was easy to park and find her stuff. I made myself comfortable and waited. I didn’t have to wait too long because she had noticed me and started making her way back to the shore. 

“I got you a coffee. Caramel latte right?” I asked as I handed it to her. 

“Thanks Ale.” She sat down, closer to me than usual. 

Silence engulfed us. 

“So Leah’s here huh?” She said more as a question than a statement. 

“Yeah. She came last night. Keira rang her apparently and she got on the first flight.” 

“I don’t know how to do this Ale.” She whispered, I turned to look at her, confused. 

“Do what?” 

“Us. It was easier when I lived in England. I didn’t have to see you everyday, be close to you, listen to you laugh at something Mapi said or watch you with Vicky and Jana. I could watch you from a distance, love you from a distance. But now? Now I’m here and it’s almost too much. It’s so-“ 

“Overwhelming?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I feel the same way.” She rested her head on my shoulder, my arm wrapping around her shoulder. 

We stayed like that for a while. It was nice. But it wouldn’t last. 

[s1lu3s]

INSPIRATION ISSUES.

warnings: suggestive content +18, masturbation, voyeur, fem!oc.

pairing: rafayel x y/n.

a/n: this is my first shot about him!! hope u like it <3

if you find any mistakes, pls tell me (english is not my first language)

comments and repost are appreciated <3

credits for the banner of mdni to roseschoices.

With Rafayel out of town in order to find some inspiration for several days, you stayed alone in the apartment you both share.

Bored and unwilling to do anything, tonight you especially felt very much in need of him.

However, he never let you know when he would be back and you don't want to bother him with your stupid and unimportant concerns.

You wish you had agreed to go with him, but your job as a hunter obliged you from doing so.

And you know you can't let Jenna, or any of your other teammates, down. Both, Rafayel and you know that your rigid morals prevent you from doing so every time he proposes such an escapade from your work.

You close your eyes, sink your head into the pillow and raise your hips as you imagine the same fantasy you've had with him over and over again this lonely week.

“Rafayel...” you murmur, squeezing one of your breasts and stroking your clit in slow circles.

You feel your fluids sliding down your thighs, your breathing ragged and erratic and your pulse rising higher and higher.

You imagine how he would do it if it was here.

Firstly, he would turn you around so that you would focus your attention only on him as he would play with your folds before delivering a single thrust and creating a torturous rhythm that would trigger an unstoppable state of frenzy on you.

You outline your own folds with one finger, which enters easily inside you because of the wetness you have between your legs. So you start to fuck your fingers in and out, feeling how your cunt is stretching them.

“Mph...” lascivious sounds burst from your lips as you change the rhythm of your fingers, curling them when they reach your walls and arching your back while you find that sweet spot that has your thighs trembling and put your eyes in blank while you hit it several times.

The warmth you radiate spreads throughout your body and you begin to feel a slight tingling sensation.

You are about to finish, when you hear a low grunt coming from the corner of the room.

You raise your head and notice a familiar figure sitting. Watching you.

“Oh, please don't stop for me. Go on, show me how much you have missed me these days.” Rafayel's voice is low and demanding, you even are able to catch that it denotes a lustful tone.

You obey. So you reassume your previous action, again directing your hand to the place between your legs, this time, turned, with your back on the mattress and staring back at him through the darkness. Your fluid always helping you to better slide your fingers through your folds, passing near by your needy clit and finally sliding into your walls.

In fact, you were closer for the orgasm you had been searching for. A couple of thrusts curling your fingers and moving them in and out, a thrust with your hips, and your legs begin to tremble slightly.

You squint, catching a fleeting glimpse of Rafayel holding a notebook and pencil and gazing at you.

“You know, these days I had gone looking for inspiration when I realized one thing. You are my source, the engine that gives life to my drawings.” His words are all you need to let yourself be carried away by the final wave of ecstasy. “A true work of art.” He mumbles and continues sketching strokes on the paper for a few more minutes.

For your part, you simply lie back and settle yourself better on the mattress, controlling your breathing and closing your eyes as you feel in the left side a slight movement.

You feel a subtle pressure on your shoulder and hip when he stands next to you.

“I don't think I'll have any more inspiration problems.” He assures you, kissing your hair and lying down with you.

[nobodyfamousposts]

What if Chloe had lost her memories of her old life after making the wish in Chloe's Lament? If so, would she remotely be nicer given not being rich means her father has less reason to spoil her? Or would she still be mean anyway even with her memories gone, implying she may just be born evil?

Yes but also no? It's a bit complicated so please let me explain:

If Chloe's Lament didn't happen and Chloe was the Chloe of the reality in question, things would pretty much be the same way they are for her in the Lament. The difference would be how Chloe herself handles it since she's fully aware of her position in this life going in without any memories from an alternate self getting in the way.

Andre is still Andre. He is a pushover and loves his little girl. He WANTS to give her whatever she wants, so it's not that he has less reason to spoil her and more that he simply CAN'T, at least not to the extent she wants. Think to the setup in canon where he was able to buy Chloe a golden bracelet and a diamond-filled phone case, fire Roger when he upset Chloe, arrange the closure of an ice rink to build a gym for her, and shut down Clara's music video on her demand...but ended up in an outright panic when he told Chloe that he couldn't banish Marinette and her family from the city, something he legitimately could not do. Not for lack of wanting to. Just that he can't.

That's pretty much the position he'll be in here. He loves Chloe and he WANTS to give her her every desire, but he's not rich or powerful this go around and he has no weight to throw, no money to spend, no influence to use, and no status or backing to protect himself or Chloe from the repercussions of her antics.

But this ask isn't about him, I know. I'm just trying to give perspective here.

Andre would still spoil her...at least as much as he could. And you have to bear in mind that he is trying to make up Chloe's lack of a present mother while also running a functional and decently well off but not outstanding business. He would deny her things she wants because he can't give her everything she wants.

But the Chloe of this world would know that. And since she never had the wealth and power that Canon Chloe has, she wouldn't expect all the things that Canon Chloe did when waking up in her position.

This is actually what makes the primary difference. I have said before that it is fully possible for the characters who make the Wish to end up happy in their Lament, and while I'm sure many of you doubt me or think I only apply that to Marinette, I meant it for everyone.

See, the main thing that makes this a Lament isn't the position of the Chloe in this world but in how Chloe HANDLES it. Canon Chloe is going to try and handle it like Canon Chloe handles anything, and it's going to fail because her expectations are based in a setup that she cannot understand no longer applies and her go-to methods require resources and protections that she doesn't have here.

THIS Chloe is going to handle it differently. Her expectations are already more down to earth than Canon Chloe to begin with. And by the time the events of the story start, she's going in with the knowledge that she is on thin ice and some change needs to occur if she doesn't want to lose everything she has left.

Chloe by this point is the bastard child of "Style Queen Audrey" and is just as acknowledged by her as she was in canon if not less, so she's still dealing with abandonment issues while trying to endear herself to her mother however limitedly she can. She still has Adrien as a friend but knows that's hanging on by a thread as well (her friendship with him was mostly through Andre's friendship with Emilie and she's gone now, and Gabriel himself is not that impressed with her). She has Bustier's support and is still able to go to the school, but she's on probation with the administration watching her. And her father is working desperately to get her out of consequences for her previous behaviors. So if she messes up again, she's going to lose all of that.

So yes, in that sense, this Chloe is going to be "nicer". She has to be. She is trying to change her behavior in order to avoid a bad situation. To try being "kind" and "helpful" when she's still very much a selfish and angsty teenager who doesn't get why she should. "Nice" and "Good" are two different things, after all. Though that's not to say that she'll be very good at either.

This change in behavior is difficult for her. Change usually is. But practice makes perfect, right? So that's why Chloe starts trying to do things she normally wouldn't. Like helping her father in the bakery. Planning a box of goodies for her classmates to try and make peace for the next school year.

And yes, help out an old man on the street.

However, there's another aspect to consider here.

After all, in this universe, Chloe and Adrien are childhood friends. And Adrien and Marinette are childhood friends, too.

So wouldn't it stand to reason that Chloe and Marinette were also childhood friends as well?

...

...

IF I wrote this setup as its own story sans the Wish and Lament, we'd be dealing with a story of Chloe growing out of a negative mindset, addressing her inner fears that drive her actions, and improving her life and her relationships. All while dealing with the stress and responsibility of being a hero. And just the clash overall of the difference between who she is as Chloe vs who she is as the Ladybug Hero.

As Marinette in Canon pointed out, "Ladybug has made me a better Marinette. So, perhaps being Queen Bee will make her a better Chloé, too!"

That's what happens here.

Chloe KNOWS she's not a good person. She'd even convinced that a mistake was made when she was chosen. But being a hero lets her do good more easily under a mask where no one has preconceived feelings or expectations of her. It would be freeing in a way. And give her the positive reinforcement she needs.

But the biggest issue would be dealing with her toxic mindset and how it led to her situation and strained relationships. Which would be what the course of the story is meant to address. Chloe in this world doesn't understand what "healthy" or "healthy relationships" are anymore than Canon Chloe does. But she's getting a crash course in the matter while also receiving guidance courtesy of Tikki.

Ultimately, this Chloe would have more of a chance than Canon Chloe.

She wouldn't go into this looking to take advantage and cause harm the way that Canon Chloe did.

She would be a selfish teenager learning to be a little less self centered and a little more aware of her impact on others.

[whimsical-musingss]

kitchen-c.b.

cursing you solves all my problems

vacationing in rock bottom, back again

so hard to do the right thing.

in which you pull Carm from rock bottom after a tough shift.

warnings: Carm has some darkness in his head, lots of fluff and domestic shit. 🤭 unedited but WHATEVER. I’m too lazy for that.

Carm Berzatto x f reader

“It’s fine, Syd, of course it is,” you say, your voice firm. “Please, go be with your dad. I can close up here.”

Syd narrows her eyes in thought and frustration, knowing that if she stayed then closing will get done faster. “Syd, it’s a no brainer. Take the time to be with him,” you interrupt her thoughts, and she slowly nods. “You sure?” She asks again.

“Yes. Please, go, go on,” you shoo her away from the stations, past Richie, who’s finishing up his work, and out the doors that leads into the dining room. Her father sits in a booth, happily waiting. “I owe you one,” Syd says, but you stop her. “You don’t owe me anything,” you smile. “See you tomorrow.”

Richie passes you as you go back into the kitchen, an unlit cigarette in between his teeth. “See ya tomorrow, peanut. Hey, listen, tell cousin to leave my shit be, yeah? He always fucks up my station, says it’s too messy, but that’s how I roll, ‘kay?” He rambles, his cigarette jumping up and down in his mouth as he talks.

“Yeah, yeah, I can try, but no promises,” you shrug. “See you later. Please drive carefully.”

“You know I won’t,” he mutters as he leaves.

The hum of the refrigerators, the distant sound of scrubbing, and the occasional splash of water is all that you hear now. You turn the corner past Marcus’ station to see Carm, on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor. There must be a spot that you can’t see from where you’re standing because he’s obsessing over one specific spot in the tile.

“Everyone’s closed up for the night. You’ve got to be almost done, yeah?”

Your voice snaps him out of wherever he was in his head. “Yeah, yeah, almost,” he mutters, the muscles in his back flexing as he sits up to be on his knees.

“Where’d you go?” You ask, voice soft, as soft as your fingers as they trace his jawbone. He lets out a sigh through his nose, shoulders shrugging. “Dunno, just away,” he mutters, his rag forgotten on the floor.

“Do you need space, Bear?” Your voice could lull him into a deep sleep, he knows this, it’s so peaceful and blocks off the shit in his head. “No, no, baby,” he leans into your touch, his own hands, albeit damp, glide up to hold onto your thighs, as if they’re anchoring him down. “Missed you.”

“Me, too,” you let out a sigh of your own. “Can I help you here? Then we can go home, I can make you something to eat, for a change…”

“Yeah, honey. Just give me a minute,” his voice is gravelly, muffled as he lays his head on your thighs, his arms wrapped around you. Your fingers find his scalp, running through his hair. His breathing slows as he finds his footing, thumbs rubbing circles on your pants.

“I’m here,” you whisper, and he squeezes you gratefully.

“I’m done with the floor,” he says, and you nod, noticing that there was no spot on the floor, no stain, no imperfection. You’re glad he realized that himself. “Okay, Bear. Let’s get home and I can make something? What are you feeling?” His grip eases as he backs away, his hair disheveled from your fingers. He grabs the bucket full of dirty water and the rag. “I can make something for you, sweet girl,” he stands, and you can hear his joints popping. “Just say the word.”

“No, no, Carmy, I’ll make you something. I offered first. Besides, you’re always making me something, I feel bad…,” you trail off. His eyes crinkle as he smiles slightly. “Alright, alright, you got me,” he says, and you follow him as he dumps the water, and back to his office, where your coats are. He helps you into your own down jacket, and hands you your purse. He slides his own on as you zip up. “Okay, what do you want to eat?” You ask again.

“Surprise me?” Carm tilts his head, questioning you.

“Hm, sure. It’ll knock your socks off,” you grin, following him out the restaurant. You watch as his thick fingers lock the door, and then he shoves them in his jacket pockets.

“Really? All f’me?” He lets you loop your arm through his as you begin your commute home. “Yes, anything for you, Bear,” you say absentmindedly, but it’s comments like those that get Carm all flustered.

“No guesses. But I’ll give you a hint,” you continue, unaware of his flushed face. “It’s one of your favorites.”

“Oh, I think I know, baby,” he lets out a huff of laughter.

“Hush, no you don’t!” You hide your smile in your coat.

You take the L, and after a transfer and a short, cold walk, you find yourselves at your apartment. Carm likes your place more than his, and he even mentioned it to you when you were in bed, noting how quiet it is, how soft your bed is. He lives by the L, so you’re not surprised, and you let him slowly move into your own place. You don’t mind at all. His presence was comforting, his hold on you something you never knew you needed.

He watches you unlock the door, then takes two steps at a time to get to your apartment. He was more eager to get home than you were, as you trudge up the stairs, rifling through your keys to get the correct one out. “Jeez, you must be pretty damn excited for my dinner,” you smile at him teasingly as you unlock the second door.

After you both settle in, Carm sits down on your bar stool, watching you get set up at the stove. A pot, water, and then you tell him to close his eyes for the last part.

“Ta-da!” You flourish, and when he opens his eyes, he has to hold back a shit-eating grin.

“Damn, pretty lady, treating me so well,” he says between laughs.

“I know,” you say as you rip the top off of the Kraft Mac and cheese. “It’s my specialty, and you love my twist on it.”

“Yeah, dunno why I do,” he confesses, and you feign offense.

You let the noodles boil, occasionally stirring. That’s the way it was on nights after a long shift. Easy meals in a box. But Carm especially loved your Mac and cheese, because you put a spin on it and add a splash of cream, milk, and butter. The powdered cheese with extra shredded cheese. Oh, so bad for you, but he couldn’t help but love it. He watches you cook up your concoction, tongue between your teeth as you work. He finds it attractive, plus other small habits you have that he picked up on.

“Here you go, Bear,” you set a bowl in front of him. “Enjoy, it’s on the house.”

“Really, all free?” He asks as you take a seat beside him, your knee nudging his. You notice his shoulders aren’t as tense, his hands aren’t in fists, instead one hand is on the back of your neck. “Jesus, you spoil me.”

You give him a small kiss on his cheek, and you feel some stubble there. “Mhm,” you smile. “Now eat, before it gets cold.”

“Wait, hold on,” he says, his hand not leaving the back of your neck. It’s habit, he always finds himself reaching for you in that particular spot. “Just wanna say thanks.”

“No need for that,” you wave your fork in dismissal. “You’d do it for me.”

His fingers trace your neck, and you’re close to melting. “Yeah. But still. I love you.” Words were hard for him, you knew, but that was enough.

“I love you, Bear. Now please eat my specialty before it gets clumpy.”

“Clumpy…?”