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lokischocolatefountain · 4 months ago

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Honey, I'm Home || For The Right Man

Fandom: The Last of Us Pairing: Joel Miller x Trad Wife!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: dom!Joel, sub!reader, rich!reader, master/slave dynamics, name calling (slut, cunt, whore, fucktoy, bitch-- it can't get worse folks), use of honorifics for Joel (Sir, Daddy, Master-- a hattrick!) Joel keeps reader in check, domesticity kink, mention of exhibitionism, boot humping, boot worship, collar and leash, chastity belt, mention of anal, use of buttplug, objectification, dehumanization, crawling, facefucking, kicking, cockwarming. (I think I got everything but lmk if I missed stuff) Word count: 4.8k Summary: Joel comes home to freshly baked dessert and a good little wife eager to serve in every way possible A/N: Look, don't be a trad wife irl. It's nothing like this. It's dangerous and will tire you out in the worst way possible. Remember this kind of Joel Miller is tragically not real. Heed the warnings.

You swiped a finger on the inside of the glass bowl, free to lick up the leftover brownie batter now that it was baking in the oven. You looked over at the clock, disappointed to see that it hadn’t moved even a little since the last time you looked.

You were still getting used to it, being home all the time. Being a housewife wasn’t something you thought you’d ever do. You hit the ground running after graduation, climbing the corporate ladder and making more money than you knew what to do with. After reaching the top and buying everything you could ever dream of and more, life got quite boring. Nothing brought joy or satisfaction anymore. Many a therapist and mental breakdowns later, you decided that you were done. Unable to bear the boredom of your career, quit your job and moved to one of your properties in Texas.

That was when Joel Miller walked into your life. Or rather you called him into your life after seeing his number on a pamphlet. Miller Constructions. Tall, gruff, muscular as hell and all southern gentlemanly, he had your attention from the very first day. Miller Constructions was only a local business that he ran with his little brother. But he had good reviews online and your own neighbor’s kitchen renovation was a testimony to Miller Construction’s quality work.

With no job or entertainment, you’d set your eyes on the handsome contractor. As he stripped his shirt, arm muscles bulging in his white vest, you sat on your couch with a book open and watched to your heart’s content. But if anyone asked you the names of the characters in the book, you would draw a blank.

One thing led to another and a few years later you were in the bedroom of the house he renovated for you, wearing his ring and getting ready in front of the dressing table he built you from scratch. You stood bare in front of the mirror, wearing nothing but the steel collar with his name engraved and matching chastity belt he kept you locked in when he was away. It was a reminder of the kind of life you’d built together, of the role you’d readily accepted in your home.

You went through your extensive lingerie collection, all chosen to surprise him and make you feel beautiful. You took a sip from your glass of wine and set it down carefully on the dressing table before reaching for something you hadn’t worn in a little while. A bright red set that drove him fucking insane when you first wore it. It was from last year’s Valentine’s Day and you’d taken him to a restaurant, private booking with just you and Joel dining there for the night. It was expensive as hell but you had cash to throw away and it was worth it for his reaction.

Once dinner had been served and the waitstaff left, you took your coat off to reveal that you’d been practically naked underneath. The lingerie set was a corset top, strapless with your tits almost falling out and the back open in a heart shape. The corset boning was covered in bright red silk, standing out against the soft sheer lace around it.

Heat rushed to your cheeks when memories of the night flooded your mind. It hadn’t taken him long to forget the fancy food, bend you over the table and have his fill of your cunt. When he got close, he put you on your knees and came on your face, marking you as his. For the rest of dinner, you wore him on your face, eating all the courses of the meal and talking to him casually about everything under the sun like it was normal.

A second wear of the lingerie set could only lead to another amazing night of debauchery. You grabbed the matching lace panties and slipped it on over your belt, the pair a skimpy one with too little fabric to cover up the essentials. You put the corset on next, struggling just a little to lace it up all by yourself but managing nevertheless. A pair of sheer black stockings, red lips, red bottomed Louboutins and your look was complete.

He didn’t care much about makeup. The man couldn’t even tell you were wearing seven different products on your face the first few times. But he always noticed a red lip. Always liked having the visual of bright painted lips stretch around his impressive girth.

Your stilettos clicked against the hardwood floor as you turned in front of the mirror, checking your appearance from every angle to make sure you looked your best. You could greet him in your old university tee and a pair of shorts with your hair up in a bun and he’d still gather you in his arms and kiss you senseless when he came home.

But you liked going the extra mile for him every now and then. Be something soft, pretty and pliant to come home to after long days of hard labor under the sun and idiot subcontractors who got on his nerves.

Just as you’d sliced the brownies and left them on a wire rack to cool, you heard his truck pull up into the driveway. You sprinted to the door as fast as you could in your impractical shoes and took your position at the door. A wide smile plastered on your lips and your thighs rubbing against each other in a pavlovian response to his arrival.

Joel’s eyes brightened when you opened the door and he laid his eyes on you. “Goddamn, honey… Gonna give me a heart attack one of these days,” he said, wasting no time in wrapping a muscular arm around your waist and pulling you into a kiss. You relaxed in his embrace, moaning softly when he caressed your bottom in his large hand. He threaded his fingers through your hair, keeping you flush against his chest as he tasted you. You heard him kick the door close, chills running through you as you realized you’d been on display to the entire neighborhood all this while.

You were the first to pull away, breathless from his kiss. Yet you stayed close, his nose brushing against yours and his warm breath kissing your cheek. You sighed, taking in his heady scent of sweat, his cologne, and wood shavings. The thing that screamed Man, Man, Man. The thing that had you begging to suck his cock every evening when he was only your contractor.

He hung his truck keys on the hook by the door and picked up the leather leash that hung from the hook right next to it. He hooked the metal end of it to the ring on your collar and tugged you forward, making you giggle as you crashed into his chest.

You unbuttoned the first button of his flannel and licked your lips when you saw his chest, tan and marked by little brown spots from the treacherous sun that couldn’t help but kiss him. You staked your claim with a kiss on his chest and licked your lips, the salty taste of his skin enticing you even more. No matter how many times you had him, you felt the same excitement that you did the first time you submitted to him. That Friday night when he stayed longer than usual to finish retiling your bathroom so it’d be ready for the party you were throwing the week after.

“I missed you so much, baby,” you confessed, looking up at him from his chest. He was handsome as hell with his soft curls, beautiful brown eyes, kissable lips, and patchy beard. Before him, you had a preference for men with full beards. But you liked Joel’s better now. Especially the little heart shaped patch where hair refused to grow.

“Missed you too, darlin’. Get on your knees now,” he said, tugging you down by your leash. You sunk down to your knees and looked up at him, heart swelling with joy at the view you had of him. He was handsome from every angle, but fuck he looked powerful towering over you like a God.

“House smells real good. You bake for me again?” He asked, petting your head just as gently as the tone of his voice.

“Mhmm,” you hummed as you wrapped your arms around his leg and pressed your cheek to his knee. It was all the satisfaction you never got at the job you quit.

“Sweet little wife, working so hard for me huh?”

“Mhmm. Heated up the leftovers from last night but I wanted to make something new too. Knew you’d need something nice to come home to, Daddy.” He never demanded anything of you despite the absolute power you handed him. He ate what you gave, whether it was good or not, whether you cooked or ordered take out. It only deepened your need to serve him.

As you already had leftovers for dinner, you decided to bake instead. A good thing that came out of the expensive baking classes you took. You liked sending the remaining dessert with him to work where he proudly distributed them.

He’d never tell you, but you knew he got off on it. His staff knew you, the boss’ sweet wife who cooked the most delicious things. You played it up when they were around— when they came by for signatures, when you visited his worksites with his lunch. You giggled more for him, touched his arms and smiled adoringly. You dressed provocatively- low cut tops that showed your cleavage, tight jeans that hugged your ass, skirts that were too short ro bend in.

“Come home to you everyday, don’t I? My everythin’ nice.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, a shy smile fighting to surface despite your best efforts.

“That how you speak to your husband?” He asked, leading you to the dinner table you’d arranged with plates, cutlery, artfully folded napkins, and the flowers from him. You crawled beside him, enjoying the discomfort in your permanently bruised knees. He took a seat and you knelt next to him, pussy already slick as he tethered the leash to the table he made to accommodate it.

“I don’t know, Joel. Maybe you should do something about it if you don’t like it. Can’t just leave your wife at home and expect nothing to change. You need to maintain her.”

“Maintenance, huh?” He snorted, tugging you close by your collar and kissing you. He held you in place with a firm hand right underneath your collar, his grip on your throat reinforcing his ownership over you.

“Turn around, let me see what’s mine,” he said, patting your cheek twice. You obeyed, turning around on your knees and bending over to have your face down and ass up.

He pushed your panties aside and you rolled your ass in the air so the jewel lodged in your hole glinted bright. He gripped it, coaxing it out gently before pushing it right back in. You whimpered, pressing your cheek to the floor and looking back at him as he played with you. He thrust the plug in and out, his devilish eyes giving away just how much he enjoyed debauching you. He liked the contradictions in you. The good little wife who stayed home and cooked and cleaned. But also his filthy little whore that stretched her ass to take his cock.

“Kept it in all day, baby?” he asked, pressing on the plug.

“Yeah, Daddy…” you said, looking away at the grains on the wood flooring as you smiled.

“Good girl,” he said, patting your ass once again before letting your panties snap back in place. Your smile widened, proud that you’d done a good job.

You’d never taken a man in your ass. Not that none had asked before Joel. Some even tried to force themselves in, pretending it was accidental when you yelled at them. The thought of a cock there, where it wasn’t meant to be, where it would be at least a bit painful… It scared you. Your boyfriends and one night stands had no incentive to be good to you. But it was different with Joel. He was your Master and you trusted he wouldn’t do anything to damage his property.

You were his in every way but you needed him to take more. To have a part of your body that wasn’t meant for fucking trained to take his cock… For every inch of your body to be transformed into a plaything for him. It was the utter, complete submission you craved.

“So proud of you,” he said, turning you around to face him. He bent down, staying close so you could feel his warm breath as he spoke to you. He kissed behind your ear where he knew you to be sensitive, making you shudder in response.

“Need to stretch it out good so when I take your ass one day, I won’t split ya’ open.”

You whimpered, cunt clenching as his words morphed into images in your mind’s eye.

He served himself dinner, heaping enough on his plate for the both of you. The gentleman that he was, he fed you first. You were his bitch at his feet, being fed and pet, but you were still a typical husband and wife sharing stories of each other’s day.

You asked him about his day and he vented about some idiot using the wrong setting and overheating a drill bit so much it snapped. He asked about your book club and complimented the meal even though he’d already praised you for it last night.

He rinsed the dishes and set them in the racks to dry while you went upstairs to fetch his fresh boots. The nice soft ones he never wore outside and sanitized thoroughly after each use. You placed them by the coffee table, your eyes connecting with his as you did. He smiled and returned to the dishes, a knowing look in his eyes.

You headed to the mini bar to prepare drinks. Joel’s drink never needed preparation- just a whiskey, neat. But you liked something fun every night courtesy of your newfound interest in mixology.

⌘⌘⌘

Joel reached into his shirt and pulled out his chain. It was one of your first presents to him. It was gold and had him stuttering his words when he got it.

He was not used to having a rich girlfriend. He’d always dated within his economic group. No surprise since not a lot of rich women liked contractors without a higher education. And as a traditional southern man, he liked to be the one to buy gifts for his woman. Liked to provide, to take care of his people. It took time to adjust to having a woman who liked just as much to buy him stuff and take care of him with meals and massages. One who took spontaneous trips to his worksites just to give him a bottle of homemade lemonade when he most needed it.

Care was a one way street for him. But with you, he learned to accept some care for himself. It began with you cooking meals for him when he renovated your home. It wasn’t the most delicious. You had no experience cooking back then, but he was completely taken by the care you showed him. Just a man she hired. You had too many rooms in your fancy mansion to do shit like that.

Quickly it had become routine. You spoke to each other about your lives. He told you about starting work straight outta high school after his parents’ death and he learned why you’d moved to Austin. The more days he spent renovating your house the less it felt like work. Especially since that one night you got on your knees and let him know that you would be happy to relieve his stress.

Ladies usually played it coy, or at least that was his experience. But you were unabashed. Bold. You didn’t drop hints and play games. You dropped to you fucking knees and offered him your mouth to fuck. It surprised him how attracted he was to your assertiveness.

Like the other things he accepted from you, he accepted the gold. You liked how it dangled from his neck as he plowed into you. He liked that it was a counterpart to the collar he put around your neck.

It now held the key to your chastity belt. He pulled your panties off, plucked the key from his chain and unlocked you. Most mornings, he locked you into your belt before kissing you goodbye at the door. In the evenings, he opened you like the best fucking Christmas present.

He wasn’t too strict with it, finding integrity and trust a more powerful tool than fear. You knew there was a spare set of keys to the belt and collar in a drawer if you needed them. You trusted him enough to lock and collar you without disrespecting you and he trusted you to not remove it without good reason. He trusted you to not lie and you trusted that he would handle your actions with kindness.

He slipped the heavy steel belt off and placed it by his side on the rug. Knelt behind you, he bent down and kissed your pussy lips, already wet and needy though he hadn’t done anything but wiggle your plug a little. He made out with it just as he would your painted pair of lips, his tongue parting your folds to enter you, tasting your arousal.

“Remindin’ me why I call ya honey…” he whispered into your sensitive skin, making you tremble against his lips.

“Why you gotta bake me sweet treats when you got me my favorite between your legs?” He asked, wrapping his lips around your nub before you could answer him with snark. You buried your head in a couch cushion, muffling your sounds. But in the quiet of the living room, Joel could hear the pretty little whimpers you made for him.

He groaned, his neck hurting from the awkwardness of the angle. He got back up from under you and slapped your ass thrice in quick succession. “Up. Put your panties on and change my boots.”

He sat back comfortably on the couch and enjoyed the view of you as you got to work.

Work boots off, you laced up the house boots and dropped your face to the ground, your ass pushing up. You pressed your lips to one boot and then the next. Then you licked it from the tip up, looking up at him for approval as you traveled up. He looked nothing less than absolutely pleased, his fingertips brushing his jawline and his smile soft at the sight of your devotion.

He tipped your chin up with his boot and caressed your cheek with it. “My little slut loves my boots, huh?”

You nodded and nuzzled into it, grateful for his attention. The warmth of his smile morphed into arrogance. From your loving husband to the man who knew he controlled your every breath and was ready to take advantage of it.

“On your ass, slut. Spread those legs and show me your cunt.”

You sat back, the coffee table supporting you as you spread your legs wide. When you moved the wet gusset of your panties aside, his eyes zeroed in and he tongue swept over his lips. You felt your cunt drip into the carpet, the shame of being so aroused by worshiping his boots only making the situation worse.

He slid his boot between your legs and pressed it against your hole. “Tell me. Why do I need to keep you locked?”

“Because I’m a slut,” you admitted, beginning to rub against it. You knew you were a lot to handle. You lived a life of restrain and shame before you found Joel. Joel freed you to chase your desires and allowed you to devolve into a slut. Since then you thought of nothing but filling your holes. He had you addicted to his cock and whining for it like a wild animal. If you didn’t have Joel to take full command of your body, you knew you would do nothing but rub your cunt raw.

“Yeah that’s right,” he said, leaning close. “But you are my slut. I know you won’t go around letting other men use your holes. So why do I keep you locked?”

“B-because I’m so wet I can’t think, Daddy.”

“Mhmm. That’s right. Now why does Daddy need you thinking?” He said, cupping your cheek in his callused hands.

“C-cause I need to keep the home. I need to cook and clean.”

He shook his head. “Don’t need your brain working to do that, baby. What d’ya need to think for?”

“My projects. I need to think for my projects.”

“Exactly. Good girl. You need to finish the portrait for your art class next week, don’tcha?”

You simply nodded, happy that he kept track of your tasks. Sometimes you forgot. You got lazy and procrastinated, turned your hobbies into a source of stress. But Master guided you and held you accountable.

“And you love your furniture so much. Your Persian rug, your designer sofas, the hardwood floor I laid down. What’ll happen if I don’t keep this hole locked?” He asked, tipping his chin up.

Your mind began its descent into the void of lust as the sensations between your legs eclipsed all else. Yet you managed a response. “I’ll r-ruin it.”

“Mhmm. Can’t have you ruining our home. I know how much care you put into it,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “How well you take care of it everyday,” he said with a kiss on your cheek. “It’ll all be ruined if you leave a trail of slick behind you when you’re on your knees cleaning the front.”

You nodded frantically, words slipping beyond your abilities.

“Now tell me why I need separate house boots.”

You opened and closed your mouth, but nothing got to you past the cruelty of his boot and your slick panties on your clit. His had slipped from your face down to grab your neck and you gasped.

“Answer me, girl. Why do I need these boots?”

“B-because of me.”

“Mmm. Why?”

“Bec-because I’m a shameless bitch,” you croaked out as his hand constricted around you. “I need to fuck m’self on Master’s boots,”

“That’s right,” he said, allowing you some air. “I can’t go out with my work boots smelling like pussy. Can’t let my men take a whiff of my slut now, can I?” he taunted, giving a light kick to your pussy. You gasped, the kick electrifying your every nerve.

“You want more?” He asked, head tilted and a mocking smile playing at his plush lips.

You nodded frantically, your cunt thrusting into the air as you sputtered, “Yes Sir, yes please.”

“Shameless whore, asking to be kicked in the cunt,” he snorted before he kicked you again. You shrieked and closed your legs shut, pain and pleasure alike traveling from your core to every part of your body. When your brain recovered from the shock, you opened your legs again.

You reached between your legs and rubbed yourself, intending to soothe but distracted by the waves of pleasure from the contact.

“Fucking slut,” he said, slapping your hand away and replacing it with his own. He alternated between slaps and rubs of your cunt. The sting of pain morphed into jolts of pleasure until the two became so indistinguishable from the other that you didn’t know what you were craving. You took what he gave, your body grateful to accept anything that came of his touch.

The hand on your neck squeezed and let go at unpredictable intervals. Every constriction of airflow was a reminder that you were just a toy at his whim. He decided if you came, he decided which hole he’d use, he decided if you’d take your next breath.

“Look how you’re dripping all over my hand,” he said, his hand glistening with your shame as he brought it up to you. He smeared it over your face, a sob escaping your throat as you smelled your desperation.

You inched closer to him on your knees and rested your cunt at the tip of his boot and humped. Up, down, up, down. There was no bliss like it.

“Like a fucking bitch in heat,” he muttered, laughing to himself when you whined. “Imagine if your former subordinates could see ya now. Wouldn’t even recognize their ballbusting boss. Maybe we should have ‘em over.”

You shook your head in denial, but your cunt was more truthful, clenching harder at the thought of having an audience to your subjugation.

“No?” He mocked as he worked on your corset top. The hairs on your body stood up as the air cooled your sweating torso. Your breasts bounced free, jiggling as you fucked yourself on his boot.

He took one in his hand, fondling it before letting go with a slap. You yelped, inching closer and trapping the bootlaces under you. He took turns with them, squeezing, slapping and pinching.

“Please!” You cried, not comprehending why you were begging.

“I know, baby. I know…” he said, the softness of his voice contradicting the cruelty of his fingers that tugged at your nipples.

“Need t— Hnngg!”

“I got you. Give into it, Cunt. Just be the fuckhole you were made to be.”

A wild sound escaped your lips and you fell back. He caught you, holding you up against the coffee table.

Your cunt still rutted, autonomous and in control of you. Just a cunt, just Master’s fuckhole. With that reassurance, the world disappeared and you found euphoria that you could never experience without him.

All the tension in your muscles evaporated to join the anxieties he fucked out of you, leaving behind you a carefree fucktoy.

Brains all fucked out, you could do nothing but comply as he rearranged you on your knees. Light illuminated his face and sounds of a cheering crowd and a fast talking man echoed in your empty head.

He squeezed your cheeks, forcing your mouth to open. A cold glass pressed against your lips and you lapped up the drink, grateful for something to quench your thirst. He pinched your nose, laughing as your hole gasped wide open for air.

He lined his cock up with your hole and thrust in, your lips stretching tight to accommodate him. He allowed you air once again and you moaned around him, grateful for his benevolence. Though your hole was accustomed to him, the walls trembled. But you persevered, needing to show Master you were grateful for letting you breathe. You took him inch by inch, stopping only when your head was on his lap and your nose pressed against his balls.

You breathed in his scent, masculine and overpowering. Tongue darted out every now and then to lick his balls. Cunt pulsated in the joy of submission when he moaned and whimpered. Every now and then he fucked your face up and down his cock and gave you air but mostly let you be.

Time had passed but you didn’t know how much. No world existed beyond him, no purpose other than warming his cock in your hole. Eventually, he stood up and held your head in both hands, thrusting in and out with no regard for you. Pathetic sounds escaped your burning throat and your lips lost its bright red color as your lipstick ran with your drool. Mascara and eyeliner ran down the sides of your face with your tears, turning gray when he released his spend on your face.

Face covered in his release, you crumbled at his feet, your arms going around his legs. You couldn’t bear to be alone in this state. His hand came down, caressing your sweat soaked hair as he whispered comforts.

“Did so well for me, Darling. So fucking perfect…”

“I love you,” you mumbled, looking up at him through foggy vision.

“I love you. More than I can show. Let me take care of you now. Bath and then bed, alright?”

You nodded, cheek pressed against his knee and loath to let go of his legs. He didn’t hurry you,but allowed you stay where you were until you decided to get up. There were chores to be done, you were sure but you knew he would take care of it. It was a worry you no longer had. All that mattered was that you served him well. No stock prices and market conditions. No early mornings and hours stuck in traffic jams.

Nothing to do but please Master, nothing to be but holes and tits. You were free.

⌘

Masterlist

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esotericbluntbaby · 24 days ago

Note

request! i read in your post you wanted angst requests, and i loveee the trope of him being a jealous roommate, and seeing you with another guy, leading to an argument about it. honestly, do whatever you feel right, i believe your writing style is so unique you couldn’t mess it up.

untitled

hamzahthefantastic x reader

description: a night of studying obviously entails stressful situations: not knowing the answers to your problems, sleep deprivation, and cramming, to say the least. however, another problem arises when you decide to hold a small study session with a boy from your class: a roommate who hates your study partner.

mentions: angst, jealousy, argument, she/her pronouns, angsty love confession, happy ending, making out, mostly sfw!

thank u to whoever sent the request. small comments and compliments really keep me going <33

you were sleep deprived, to say the least.

violet bags formed droops underneath your eyes, followed by the weighted heaviness your eyelids held with each blink threatening to be longer and longer each time. your back was almost curled into a "c," slumped onto your desk as your head was held in your left hand, pencil being grazed upon paper in your right. exhaustion devoured the whole point of the study session: to hold as much material in your brain as you could about the material for your final exam in two days.

you started off strong at around 5:00 in the afternoon. the material was able to be grasped and understood as if it was truly a part of you that was forgotten and remembered. however, the longer the you stared at the numbers and symbols on your notebook, the more your brain turned as mushy as a rotten apple. one redbull turned into three cans, in addition to a shot of espresso taken at around 12:00 in the morning, as you delved deeper into the madness of the units you learned in math.

now, you originally were going to do this completely on your own. you've done it before; actually, you've done it so many times that it's almost expected of you to procrastinate until the last minute to study and review, no matter how many times it ends with regret, twenty pages of notes, and sleep deprivation. however, after posting about how much you've been struggling with a certain subset of problems given in the study guide, logan, a boy from the same math class as you, texted.

he told you he could help you if he needed: that he could come over and assist you with your studying, since he understood the material quite well. you believed him, since you sat next to him constantly. each time papers and tests were being handed back to you, your eyes lingered and glanced at his paper, an A+ written in slanted cursive each time at the top of his paper. though you've studied by yourself many times and each time got a knowledgable, thoughtful grade, you began to lose hope in yourself. so, logan showed up at your doorstep at around 1:00 in the morning.

you both crammed and retained as many formulas, problems, and tactics as you could as the sun began to rise slowly and steadily, showing and revealing itself to the residents living in the northern hemisphere. by the time the sun was fully up, around 7:30 in the morning, you told him that you could take it from here and that he was free to leave now.

as you walked him out, your roommate sat on the brown, leather couch of your shared apartment, binge watching some random show he found on the netflix account you both had access to. this wasn't an unusual sight; hamzah streamed quite often, most of the time resulting in all-nighters or a scattered sleep schedule. however, the sight in front of him was the unusual one: who the fuck is that blonde haired boy who was in your room, leaving at 7:42 in the morning? his eyes widened at the thought of another man stayed in the same room as you for the entire night. that was practically his room; hamzah had clothes in there, as well as his monkey plush that the both of you got together. another man was practically in his space and he did not take it lightly.

"bye logan. thanks for all the help last night. i really appreciate it," you thanked, genuinely grateful that he was able to help you with your studies.

he smiled a toothy grin, "yeah, anytime! just call me whenever you need me. i'll be there."

his backpack, full of textbooks and notebooks from the night, was the last thing hamzah saw before the door was shut and his roommate's body was turned towards him. he noticed how rough you looked; eyes half-shut and lidded with an intense look of sleepiness laced into your gaze, as well as a yawn coming from out of your mouth before you began to converse with him.

he smiled at you, momentarily forgetting the fact that you just walked a boy out of your apartment, "morning, pretty."

you and hamzah's relationship was weird; you weren't really dating, yet, you weren't really only friends either. there was an certain unspoken tension between the two of you; a tension that kept you connected with string, yet couldn't be cut even if you had the sharpest pair of scissors available. you enjoyed his presence, he enjoyed yours. however, you both also didn't want to ruin what you already had, so it was a simple understanding of each other that never got to be turned into spoken word.

"morning, hamzah. did you sleep at all?" you asked him.

he turned down the volume of the show in front of him with the remote, "huh? oh, nah. i was streaming 'til like, 6, or something. who's he?"

you looked around the room for another body besides yours and the boy in front of you, "who's who?"

"the guy you just walked out of the apartment," his voice had a slight essence of an attitude in it, "the one that looks like fuckin butters from south park."

you laughed, taking a seat next to him and resting your head on his shoulder , "that's logan. he was just helping me out with something last night."

"how long was he here?"

"he came here around, like, 1 in the morning. why?"

"'nothin," he said, turning the volume back up.

logan became a regular guest at the house, oddly showing up mostly at weird hours of the morning. most of the time, it was you answering the knock on your wooden front door, greeting him and going to your room to study some more. on the contrary, the times where hamzah was conveniently in the living room watching a show or editing a video and the door knocked, he became slightly hostile. each time, no matter where or what you were doing, he wouldn't answer the door. the first couple times, you didn't realize it; you thought that possibly hamzah could've not heard the knock because of how loud he watches his shows. however, you soon realized that he simply just wouldn't get up. you shrugged it off, letting him in after he texted you that he was outside the door.

currently, your exams are on pause for the break that you were given from school. your sleep schedule was in ruins, either sleeping at 6 in the morning or 5 in the afternoon. you noticed that throughout the break, hamzah was distant, only occasionally asking you if you wanted some food that he was cooking or if the wifi was out. you missed him. you didn't know what was wrong, nor what was happening. his short responses and leaving the room whenever you entered was confusing you. a week ago, you two were cuddling on the couch and he was forcing you to watch horror movies with him. now, he leaves the room whenever any part of your body touches the wooden floor of your living room. at 12:00 in the morning, you decided that enough was enough.

you knocked onto his bedroom door, before letting yourself in. his eyes remained locked onto the screen in front of him, not caring to recognize that you were now in his room. he seemed standoffish; he seemed cold. it was like the man that was once radiating a certain warmth from within himself was extinguished and watered down. it worried you, really. you wanted him back, though he wasn't yours.

"are you streaming?" you asked him.

his eyes remained stagnant and his voice spoke to you in the same monotonous tone, "no."

"do you wanna go do something?"

"like?"

you sat on his bed next to him, "i dunno. anything."

"can't. busy."

you were tired, however, not tired in a way that can be fixed with sleep. in fact, you didn't know how this could be fixed. though the connection you two had was never truly spoken about and simply understood through actions and gestures, you finally decided to speak about it.

"hamzah."

"what?"

"what's wrong? did something happen?"

he finally made eye contact with you, "nothing's wrong, nothing happened."

"you've been so distant, something's wrong. y'know you can talk to me about anything, right-"

he swiveled his chair towards you, frustration painted as a mural onto his face, "jesus fucking christ, dude. just because i don't wanna go out- it doesn't mean anything."

you were taken aback, "it's not even just today. it's this whole week. did i do something wrong?"

"if you wanna go out so bad, why don't you go ask logan?"

a switch suddenly flipped into your head; hamzah was jealous. putting yourself in his shoes, you understood why he was; not only was he jealous, but he was rightfully so. you didn't realize that your nights were now always spent studying and memorizing instead of spending time with him.

"why would i go ask logan?"

hamzah scoffs, "why wouldn't you go ask him? he's over almost every fucking time i try to go ask you if you wanna go get food or go watch a movie. you might as well date the kid if you're gonna be sleeping with him every night while dragging me along."

"hamzah-"

his eye contact remained intense, "no, i'm not done. fuck, i thought we had something. i thought those nights on the couch where we'd just sit and talk and watch random shit and make fun of random shit meant something. i liked you. i liked you so fucking much. and then logan comes around and just steals you. what does he have that i don't?"

"hamzah-"

"i'm still not done. i would've loved to be with you and do corny couple shit with you if you weren't with him. shit, i feel fucking stupid because i still would love to be with you and it's so, so obvious you don't feel the same way. do you know how much it hurts to hear you two at night? our rooms are next to each other, do you realize i can hear you guys laughing? then, when it's quiet, i just think about how you guys could be sleeping together and cuddling just like how we did. this kid- he came out of fucking nowhere. and now suddenly, i'm just fucking alone and you just fucking left me. it's like your fingers are intertwined in my brain and just fucking with every single fold. why did you do that? why would you do that-"

impulse struck your brain like lightning on the highest mountain peak. hamzah wouldn't shut up. yet, he's never really shut up a day in his life. so, you did the obvious. you grabbed his cheeks, forcefully making his face directly in front of yours. your lips landed on his, a kiss of desperation and risky acts.

you pulled away, not realizing what you were doing until after it happened. you both looked at each other wide-eyed and shocked, almost as if a total stranger kissed both of you.

"fuck- i'm sorry- i don't know why i did that-"

he grabbed your face with both of his hands, cupping your cheeks in each one. his lips, once again, settled on yours. this kiss was different; the way you kissed him was spontaneous and filled with uncertainty. his, on the other hand, was rough and needed. you never realized how truly needy hamzah was until the moment where he pulled you onto his lap, straddling his lap. his hands made its way up and down your body. his tongue, tasting like the mint gum he was chewing before you came into his room, entered your mouth as if it lived there previously. you both were upset at each other, however, with every moment where your lips were touching, it was like you completely forgot why you both were tense. you attempted to pull away; you remembered that you still needed to explain everything. however, you watched as his lips grew magnetic to yours, attempting to chase after your mouth like he would die from even a split second apart.

"hamzah. i don't like logan."

his eyes turned soft compared to the gaze he gave you beforehand, "did you sleep with him?"

"no, baby, i didn't."

his heart melted at you calling him baby. you could see it in his eyes and the yearning expression he gave you.

"what were you guys doing at, like, 3 in the morning?"

"i've been struggling with math. i don't really know anyone else that's good at it, either. so when he offered to help me study, i took him up on it. it's at weird hours because he has work."

guilt began to eat hamzah up. he realized he had just scolded you for something that his brain made him believe, as well as the fact that he could have simply talked to you about it.

"i'm sorry. i'm actually so sorry- i don't know why i didn't just ask you. i just assumed that he was like, i don't know, a sneaky link or something."

you kissed him on the cheek, lovingly, "it's okay. i should've told you that he was just helping me study. i'm sorry, too."

you stayed there for a solid hour, with you still straddling his waist in his gaming chair with your legs. it wasn't sexual at all; in fact, it was the opposite. your arms wrapped around his neck as his arms wrapped around your back. your face held shelter in the area between his neck and his shoulder, finding solitude within the boy in front of you. it was silent, until hamzah decided to break the quietude filling the room.

"do you still wanna go out?"

you removed your face from his neck to look at him, "hamzah, it's one in the morning."

"so? i thought you wanted to go somewhere- get out of this apartment."

you gave him a peck on the lips, "no. i just wanted an excuse to be with you."

authors note!

okay i dont rly like how this turned out but i'll post it anyways. i might update it n add some more detail into it later on. have a good rest of ur day/night! i will eventually get to all the requests i get, but please be patient since i do have school outside of this <3

#hamzah fic #hamzah imagines #hamzah x reader #hamzahthefantastic #slushy noobz #hamzah fluff #hamzahthefanatasticxreader #hamzah x y/n

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w4ndal0ver · 4 months ago

Text

The Art of Submission (1)

[minors don't interact, 18+]

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: As a growing author, you're grappling with a frustrating writer's block while trying to craft your next lesbian erotic novel. With a lack of personal experience holding you back, inspiration seems just out of reach. But when a captivating neighbour steps in, offering unexpected support and a tantalizing invitation to explore the depths of desire, you find yourself on a journey that blurs the lines between reality and fiction, leading to a discovery that you definitely weren't expecting.

content warnings: lead up, talk of submission and sadomasochism, flirty touches and conversation.

note: This is the first chapter of a new story that I'm writing, any ideas or inspiration would be appreciated so if you have any ideas feel free to drop them in my requests, other than that buckle in! (I will try to get the next part out as soon as possible)

The Art of Submission - Chapter One

The soft glow of your laptop illuminated the cluttered desk, your cursor blinking impatiently on an empty document. You stare aimlessly at the screen, your fingers hovering above the keys waiting desperately for inspiration to strike. It had been hours since you sat down, hoping to squeeze out something, but your mind felt trapped and foggy, yet every time you wrote a sentence, you only sank deeper into it. The end result had started to feel completely out of reach.

Your last book had done okay. It wasn’t groundbreaking or a bestseller, but it was just enough to remind you that you could do this. You could write and publish your writing and make some level of a name for yourself in the world of lesbian erotica. Not that it was hard considering the low level media attention that your field rarely gained. The reviews had been mostly kind and the sales had trickled in steadily enough that you were managing to stay afloat, but nowhere near the level of success that you first imagined when you wrote your first novel.

Your apartment is a mess, the evidence of your creative block scattered pointlessly across the room. Empty coffee mugs crowded your desk, some still holding the cold remnants of yesterday's caffeine-fueled desperation. You’d also not left the apartment in days, time becoming a blur of restless nights and sluggish mornings, avoiding stepping outside. You found it was easier to stay here, trapped within the confines of your own thoughts, hoping something would come to you.

You lean back in your chair, groaning in frustration. You thought about getting up and attacking the massive pile of laundry that had sat abandoned in the corner for days, but you quickly pushed that aside, realising that there was no point until you at least got another page written. The cursor was blinking furiously at you and you felt yourself going slightly insane. You wanted to smash your head into the keyboard, but instead you imagined yourself doing it which brought a small smile to your lips.

It was at this moment that a sharp knock sounded at the door, you spin in your chair, frowning as you try to glance over at the entrance to the apartment. You wracked your brain trying to remember if you’d ordered something, but you couldn’t work it out and you knew you definitely wasn’t expecting company. You push yourself out of the chair with a deflated sigh, stretching your legs out as you go towards the door. The knock came again, firmer this time. Whoever it was, they weren’t planning on leaving.

Shuffling to the door, you don’t bother to smooth the wisps of your hair or fix the crumples in your shift, you just swung it open.

“Hey, I hope I’m not intruding, but I thought you could use a break.”

You blink in shock, momentarily stunned. Wanda stood in your doorway, her familiar yet distant neighbour from across the hall. You knew her as the woman who you occasionally exchange small talk with in the corridor, but there she was holding a bottle of wine like she’d been planning this all along. Her reddish-brown hair flowed over her shoulders, perfectly catching the dimming light of the room, the colours of her striped blouse almost too cheerful for the cluttered mess that she would soon walk into.

“I can basically hear your sighs from across the wall. Writer's block?” Wanda smiled, her green eyes warm but with a hint of darkness behind them, as if she knew something that you didn’t. She stepped further inside, her presence filling the small apartment yet you didn’t move to stop her, you didn’t feel the need to.

“Yeah no of course, come on in.” You say, brows furrowed in confusion. You hadn’t told anyone that you were trying to write again, come to think of it, you hadn’t even told her that you were a writer in the first place. Suddenly, your cheeks flushed pink in the realisation that she knew who you were.

Wanda set the bottle down on the counter, next to a half empty cup. The sound of it landing felt louder than it should, cutting through the quiet tension that was arising around the pair of them.

“You’ve been in here too long, I thought wine might be a good excuse to step away from the screen for a bit.” Wanda spoke with a caring tone beneath her soft voice, yet you found it unsettling in how she acted so naturally, offering up solutions to problems that you hadn’t even told her about.

Wanda always seemed to have a way of appearing when you least expected it, offering little moments of relief, like that time she helped carry groceries up the stairs. She was friendly, sure, but there was an edge to her friendliness. A knowing look, like she was always a step ahead of you, just waiting for the right moment to weave her way into your life. You didn’t know why, but you weren’t exactly complaining about it.

“You know, I’ve read some of your stuff.” There it was, you freeze, your heart skipping a beat. Your eyes dart to Wanda’s face, as if you were searching for any hint of a joke but instead you’re met with a calm, confident smile. That wasn’t what you were expecting. You’d always presumed that your audience was horny teenage girls, but Wanda was a mind-blowingly gorgeous woman, the exact opposite of who she was expecting. Besides that, your books lived in a cosy corner of the erotic fiction world, usually flying under the radar, definitely not the type of thing a neighbour casually brings up over wine.

“You have?” You ask, trying to sound casual but your voice comes out a little more strained than intended. You walk around the kitchen counter where Wanda had perched herself, your hands almost shaking from the unexpected social encounter. You reach into the cupboard, finding two wine glasses and placing them down between the two of you.

“Mhm.” Wanda leans against the counter, an almost playful spark in her eye, “You’re good. The way you write about submission, it’s real, raw. It’s incredible.”

You feel your cheeks warm up, unsure on how to respond. This was the first piece of praise you’d received from inside your own kitchen. You felt your pulse quicken, the fact that Wanda had read those words, the intimate fantasies that you’d put into your stories was making this situation way more intimate than deemed necessary.

You literally were stuck in a state of speechlessness, but Wanda was acting like she expected this. She lets you stand with your back against the counter opposite her, fiddling with the ends of your hair while she pulls up a stool. “Corkscrew?”

“Oh yeah, of course.” As you turned you wanted to slap yourself, why were no words coming out, you are absolutely embarrassing yourself, yet the redhead was still gleaming at you as if you were adding something to the interaction. You rummage through your drawers to find what you needed before handing it over to her.

“You know, when I first picked up one of your books I wasn’t sure what to expect.” She chuckled, tilting her head thoughtfully as she worked on opening up the bottle. “But then, well, I couldn’t put it down. Dangerous stuff.”

This time you manage a small laugh, still processing the idea of Wanda - the beautiful and put-together woman from across the hall - curled up reading the things you’d written. “I guess it’s not what most people expect from their neighbours.” Once again you’d tried so hard to sound casual that your voice was wavering in response.

“Well maybe we just don’t know our neighbours as well as we think we do.” With that, she pulled the cork from the bottle and filled up the two glasses, leaning in a little closer as a smile grew into a smirk.

You glance down at her as you reach for the glass, “I never really imagined someone like you reading my books you know.” You say sheepishly, taking a sip of the wine hoping to mask the nerves that were creeping up your spine.

Wanda raises an eyebrow, her smirk more prominent now. “Someone like me?”

You shrug, avoiding her gaze as you fiddle with the stem of your glass. “You know, my audience is usually different. Younger maybe.”

She chuckles softly at your response, “Are you saying I’m too old for erotic fiction?” Her tone is teasing, yet there's a glint in her eye that makes your palms sweat. Her comment about submission still lingers in the air, your cheeks continually growing warmer.

“No! No, I just-” You stammer, flustered by how casually she was controlling this conversation, “I didn’t think you’d be into, you know, that kind of thing.” Your voice is desperately pathetic and all you can do is smile shyly, trying to lighten the tension that was twisting in your chest.

Wanda takes a slow slip from her glass, her eyes never once leaving yours. “Don’t assume you know what I’m into,” she comments, voice soft but full of unspoken meaning. There's that look again, the one that says she knows more than she lets on. “But seriously, I thought your writing was refreshing. You don’t hold back and that's what makes it compelling.”

You feel the blush rise again, her praise catching you off guard. “Thanks, I guess.” You mumble, feeling a little more exposed than you’d like.

She waves a hand in the air, brushing off the awkwardness as she crosses her leg over the other. “I could tell you were stuck though,” She adds, swiftly changing the topic with a casual flick of her wrist. “So I figured I’d rescue you from yourself for a bit.”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow, “Rescue me?”

She nods, her eyes twinkling. “I’ve been hearing you pace around for days, It’s not hard to guess you’ve got yourself into a block.”

You can’t help but laugh, the conversation switching to something that was making you more comfortable to talk about. “Yeah, something like that. I’ve been staring at that god stupid screen for hours.”

Wanda shakes her head, mock disapproval on her face. “That’s no way to get inspired, sometimes you just need to step away.” She gestures to the wine and the dim, cosy lighting of the room. “This is your moment to relax.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight on your chest lighten ever so slightly. “I guess I have been driving myself crazy.” This would usually be an overstep in a first proper conversation, but the curious look behind Wanda’s eyes made you feel like she was making you say all of this, like she was dragging the vulnerability out of you.

Wanda smiles at your openness, a knowing, almost secretive smile as she lifts her glass to her lips again. “There's a reason they say inspiration strikes when you least expect it, maybe you just need to stop expecting it.”

The laughs were more relaxed now, “Oh, is that how it works?” You tease playfully, finally getting to a point where your nerves have stilled out. You could feel the tension in your body loosen just a little, but Wanda’s gaze still never faded.

She grins at your response, swirling the wine around in her glass. “Well sometimes it helps to just let go.” Her eyes sparkling as she watches you. “So what’s this book about anyway? What's got your pretty little head in a spin?”

You hesitate for a moment, unsure how to respond. There's no easy way to explain what you’re writing without dipping into something personal and intimate. But the way Wanda is watching you so intently, waiting, you decide to just go for it. You’re thinking maybe talking about it will help you sort out what’s been blocking you.

You clear your throat, and look down at the glass in your hands. It’s, uh well, it's another one in the same genre as the others.”

Wanda cocks her head at you, leaning in again. “Mhm, go on.” She pulls out the stool next to her, tapping on the top of it. You smile in the safeness of her space, walking round the counter and sitting down next to her.

“It’s about sadomasochism actually. I’m trying to explore that dynamic, the balance between pleasure and pain, trust and submission.” You feel your face flush, realising that there's no backing out now. This is supported by Wanda’s lips curling into an all too well knowing smile.

“So you’re digging into the darker side of submission? That’s bold.”

You nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah it’s more about the psychological aspect of it - how it feels to surrender completely to someone else but it's hard to get it to feel real rather than just something for someone to get off on.”

There's a brief pause, both of you deep in thought, but you can feel Wanda’s gaze like a weight on your skin. Her eyes darken, just for a moment, as she processes your words. “Sounds intense.” She murmurs, her voice dropping a little lower.

You let out a nervous laugh, trying to break the tension that you’d created. “Yeah well it’s not exactly an easy thing to write about. I want to portray it with respect.”

The redhead has now turned in her chair to face you completely head on, her head tilted as she rolls her lips together. “Maybe that’s because you’re overthinking it.” She pauses, then adds, almost as an afterthought, “Or maybe because you haven’t experienced it enough yourself.”

Your breath catches in your throat at her suggestion and you can’t hold her stare anymore, quickly glancing away with a small cough. “I- Well I’ve written about it plenty.”

She chuckles gently at your answer, her tone life but her words heavy with meaning. “It’s not quite the same thing though is it?” Wanda’s fingers gently brush against yours as she reaches for the wine bottle to refill her glass. The touch is light, fleeting, but she doesn’t pull her hand away immediately. Instead her fingers linger just long enough to make you wonder if it was an accident or something more deliberate.

You attempt to laugh it off, but your voice falters slightly. “I guess not.”

She meets your eyes again, her gaze almost daring, “You know, sometimes the best way to get through the writer's block is to immerse yourself in the subject matter.”

You swallow hard, praying that she didn’t hear the gulp that erupted in the back of your throat. The air between you had grown thicker than before. “Yeah I’ve heard that before.”

She smiles, leaning just a little closer, her arm brushing against yours as she picks up her glass. “So what’s tripping you up? The emotional stuff, or you know the physical details.”

The way she’s looking at you, so calm yet so confident. It’s like she’s pulling the words out of you without you even realising it. “Both. It’s hard to get the balance right, making the dynamic feel believable.”

Wanda nods thoughtfully, biting the tip of her finger as she indulges herself into your problem. “Have you thought about how you’re building the dynamic between them?” She shifts closer and in the process her knee scrapes past yours under the lip of the counter top. You’re hyper aware of every small movement now and it's impossible to be an accident. “Like what does submission look like to you? What does it feel like in the story?”

You blink, caught off guard by the directness of her question. “God, I don’t know, It's like surrender, like when you trust someone enough to give them complete control.” You pick up your glass again, taking a massive chug in order to keep your hands steady. “It’s like you know they won’t hurt you, even when you’re in your most vulnerable state.”

She nods understandingly, leaning ever so slightly closer to you. “Okay so what does that look like physically, how are you going to write that?”

Your pulse is going crazy now, you’re convinced that Wanda can hear your heartbeat quicken from just her words. “It’s about touch,” You say, your voice almost wobbling, “The way they respond to each other. The way a person can take control with just a look or a gesture.”

As you speak, Wanda’s lips turn up into a smirk, her gaze still unwavering. She’s so close to you now that the warmth of her body is radiating off of your skin. Her hand rests slightly above your knee, the touch intimate, sending a shockwave up the back of your spine. “Show me.”

Your breath hitches, heart racing as her fingers begin to trace a small circle against your leg. The motion is almost absentminded, yet it feels nothing but deliberate. She maintains her eye contact, her expression open but charged with a spark of something playful and dangerously enticing.

You freeze, caught in a whirlwind of sensations as the room feels smaller now, the air thick with unspoken tension. You know exactly what she’s suggesting without her having to say it.

You open your mouth to respond, but immediately close it, earning a small chuckle from the redhead. “If you can describe it so well, you shouldn’t be stuck here right.” The dangerousness in her tone makes the words evaporate and you become acutely aware of the heat radiating from her body, the way her thumb brushes softly against your skin, drawing you in deeper.

Wanda pulls back just slightly, but her hand lingers where it is, a gentle weight that feels both reassuring and electric. Her eyes lock back with yours, searching, waiting for your answer. “It’s okay.” She whispers, her voice soft yet commanding, as if she's completely in control in this delicate moment, “I’m just trying to help you get… unstuck.”

You can’t look away from her, caught in her captivating gaze. Her confidence is wrapping itself around you, urging you to step closer to the edge of your own desires. The space between you is charged, the possibilities suddenly hanging thick in the air as you contemplate what she could do next.

“Have you thought about drawing from your own experiences?” Wanda questions, still attempting to find a solution to a problem you couldn’t tell whether she was actively helping or not. “You know, sometimes personal stories can ignite that spark of inspiration.”

You swallow hard, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. “I wish I could.” You admit, your pulse is still racing from her touch that she has now released, yet her body still remains just as close. “I’ve never really had anything that intimate.”

A playful glint flickered within the green of her eyes, her gaze sharpening. “Really? Nothing? Not even a fleeting moment that made your heart race?” She tilts her head slightly, studying your face as if searching for unspoken truths buried inside of you.

You shake your head, feeling the embarrassment paint itself across your face. “Not like that, I mean I’ve had relationships, but nothing that’s ever made me feel like I was completely out of control, everythings always felt so safe.”

“Safe can be good, but isn’t there something thrilling about stepping outside of your comfort zone?” Her face leans closer to you once more, the feeling of her leg permanently resting against yours now.

You nod, the thought resonating with you, but you’re still hesitant. “I just don’t know how to write something so raw and believable if I haven’t experienced it myself.”

Her expression softens, shifting her weight slightly. Her gaze drops to your lips for the briefest moment before locking back onto your eyes. “Kiss me,” She whispers, the command both shocking and exhilarating.

Your heart races, a jolt of electricity coursing through you at her words. You can’t look away, caught in the depths of her stare. The space between you feels impossibly small, filled with a tension that pulses with possibility. “Just one kiss,” She adds, her voice a sultry invitation. “It might just unlock everything you’ve been trying to write.”

With her eyes gleaming into yours, the world around you fades into the background leaning only the two of you in this moment. You’re drawn to her, every instinct telling you to surrender to the rush of desire coursing through your veins. You lean in, heart racing as you connect your lips together. The kiss is soft at first, a small tentative exploration, but it quickly deepens, igniting something almost primal within you. Wanda’s hand slides from your knee to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if she wants to consume every part of you. You pull back, the softness of her lips still lingering against yours. You’re panting slightly, taking in the depths of what you just happened.

Wanda’s eyes gleam with satisfaction, her finger touching her lip and you can’t help but smile widely at her. “See.” She murmurs, her tone low and teasing. “Just a taste of what it feels like to let go.”

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mimicmimikyuwrites · 6 months ago

Text

Who You Belong To - Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow) x Fem!Reader SMUT

Summary: You and your professor share what could barely be called a relationship, but what's there is tricky and difficult to put a positive label on. When a fellow classmate successfully asks you on a date, Dr. Crane decides to make one thing clear: who you belong to.

Contents/Possible Warnings: Age Gap (Reader is in her early 20's, Crane's in his mid 30's), inclusion of original male character, student-professor relationship, unprotected sex, P in V sex, toxic relationship (?), creampie, semi-clothed sex, mentions of masturbation, degradation, semi-public sex (they fuck in an office), SMUT, MDNI

Other Notes: You can read part two here.

Some people say there's over four hundred estimated phobias, others say that number can be even higher at five hundred; no matter the number, you were sure Dr. Jonathan Crane knew every single one of them by heart. Your slightly off-putting psychology professor with a passion for fear and its workings shared a relationship with you that had breeched its professional expectations long ago. You couldn't tell what he was to you, exactly, but it certainly wasn't just your professor, not when he had been inside of you more times than either of you could count.

It wasn't uncommon for him to ask you to stay after class, leading into an invitation to his office before you found yourself bent over an expensive, wooden desk that had already been cleared off in expectation of you being pressed to it while you took him. Sometimes if he wanted to strike a bit of fear of getting caught into you, he'd fuck you right in the lecture hall, always letting you know how terrifying the consequences would be if someone else did something as simple as come back for a forgotten pen.

You may have been his favorite teacher's pet, but you were sure there were others. Jonathan was an attractive man who taught an already difficult class, it'd be no surprise to you if he had other women lined up for a chance to recieve a better grade from him in exchange for a little "extra- credit" assignment, as much as you hated to admit it to yourself. He was never yours to begin with.

"Care to tell me why you're staring down at your closed text book instead of listening to my lesson?" Your professor questioned, breaking you out of your thoughts. Shit, how had you gotten so immersed in your little daydream that you had forgotten you were in class? You could feel the sympathetic stares of your peers burning into you as Crane loomed over you, a gleam of mischievous satisfaction in his blue eyes. You didn't respond.

"Stay after class," He said plainly, heading back to the front of the room. He'd still ask you to stay back regardless of how things went, the little show he had made out of you was his way of toying with you in just the way he liked. It was more of a tease at this point, you weren't scared, not of him. Still, you shrunk back into your seat in faux embarrassment to entertain him.

"To those who were paying attention, unlike a certain someone," he paused, gaze drifting over to you as he quickly took in the sight of what you were wearing.

While it was nothing out of the ordinary for you, you did choose to wear a skirt today, a favorite of his to see on you. How easy would it be for him to pull it up, bunching the fabric over your hips so be could get acess to what he was really after? He also took note of your gloss-covered lips, mind drifting onto how great they'd look wrapped around his cock or wide open as you moaned for him. He shifted, moving to be further behind his desk as he felt his pants tighten. He would wreck you after everyone was gone.

"You have a test on the topic of agoraphobia this upcoming Monday; today is Friday, which means you have the weekend to review the notes, which I hope you've been taking, for your own sake." He continued. "You're all free to go, except who I've already asked to stay." He really wouldn't stop rubbing that in, would he? Maybe he was trying to rile you up to make your usual "meeting" more exciting today.

As your classmates rose, you stayed seated, putting your stuff into your bag as you did. It was all routine, except for the man who had approached you before making his way out. He stood over you with a friendly smile, one that you had to admit made him look handsome. He didn't look too different from Dr. Crane in terms of basic features; dark hair and cornflower blue eyes. He was your type on the level of looks.

"Hey, I'm Ryan," He introduced himself, friendly smile remaining on his face. "I heard that you're pretty good in this class, making straight A's. I was wondering if you could help me study this weekend if you're free? Maybe we could grab a cup of coffee, too?" You looked over to where Dr. Crane was standing, the man in question observing your interaction from his desk, making it subtle by acting like he was sorting through papers.

You and your professor weren't exclusive, and if he had others lined up and waiting for him, then you could, too; it'd only be fair. Your classmate wanted to study and get coffee? He'd get what he wanted and more. "Sure! I'm free tommorrow at twelve if that works out for you," You finally replied, smiling up at Ryan. You had just met the guy and he was already doing something that Crane never did: asking you out on a date.

Ryan grinned, grabbing a notebook out of his bag and ripping out a piece of paper, writing his number on it before handing it to you. "I'll see you then!" He exclaimed happily before waving goodbye and leaving. After he had left, you stood up, pulling your bag over your shoulder before you made your way to where Jonathan was at the front of the lecture hall. He did ask you to stay after class.

"Throw it away," Crane stated plainly, moving the small, paper-filled trashcan that was under his desk to be in front of you. You looked down, not realizing you still had the slip of paper with Ryan's number on it in your hand.

"Do you even know what it is?" You retorted, shoving the paper into your bag.

"He gave you his number. You don't need the number of someone you turned down," He responded, moving the trashcan even closer to you. "Throw it away." He repeated.

"Except I didn't turn him down." You replied, watching his brows furrow in a mix of confusion, and then annoyance once your words sunk in. "We're not exclusive, you and I, are we?" Part of you hoped he'd prove you wrong, telling you that he was yours and you were his, while another part of you wanted to tell him 'fuck you" to his face. How many simultaneously lucky and unlucky women did he have waiting for him? Many, you were sure of it.

"I'm sure you have someone else in another one of your classes that you can spend your evening with, Dr. Crane." You smiled, trying to ignore the growing pain in your heart. "If you can have others, then it's only fair that I can as well."

"What makes you think that I have others?" He inquired, looking up at you with curious, blue eyes. "Do you think I'm the type of man to give out straight A's in my class in exchange for a fling or two? I don't even up your grades, darling." He chuckled lightly.

You rolled your eyes. He had to be lying to you... right? Were you really the only one and he just didn't see you as more than someone to have sex with? You didn't know what idea hurt you more, but the end result was the same: you meant little to him, and your body was all he wanted.

"I'll see you on Monday, professor." You mumbled out, feeling defeated. You already knew why he had asked you to stay after class, but the thought of him touching you while he wanted nothing more than just sex sickened you. What did you expect? That's all things had ever been. You shouldn't have caught feelings.

He watched you leave, letting out a long sigh once you were gone. You had always been a pain in his ass, but not one he'd ever get rid of.

Saturday at Twelve left just as quickly as it had come, and before you knew it, not only had you had your date, but you were also back in your Psychology class on Monday, a test on agoraphobia in front of you. Being nearly sixty questions long, it was intimidating to look at, even more so when the majority of questions were statistic-based. You were far from worried, however, having studied the topic extensively over the past few weeks.

Any confidence you had left you once you received your score later that same class period. You had failed by a large margin, the bright red ink in the corner shamefully exclaiming '34%' seeming to mock you as you stared back at it. You had yet to fail any assignment in your Psychology course, let alone one on such a common fear as agoraphobia. Your professor did this on purpose.

"Yes? Can I help you?" Crane asked, not bothering to look up as he shuffled through a stack of papers on his desk. You placed your failed test in front of the man, an angry frown on your face as you did so.

"Did you intentionally fail me because I went out on a date this weekend, you prick?!" He finally glanced up at you, his neutral expression not faltering a bit despite your obvious discontent. Then, he stood up, making his way over to his office door in the corner of the room.

"Come on, let's take this to my office so you can shout at me without embarrassing yourself as easily." The condescension in his voice only served to upset you further, much to his sadistic delight. You were the first one inside, Jonathan making sure to lock the door behind you. Before you could even open up your mouth to yell at him once more, he spoke.

"Did it feel good?" He asked nonchalantly, catching you off guard.

"What? What are you—"

"Did it feel good when he fucked you?" He finished, watching calmly as your eyes widened in shock. "You have a hickey on your neck under all that makeup you used to try and hide it. You've done the same to the ones I've given you in the past. It's just barely noticeable."

He stepped forward, closing in on you like a hungry animal would their prey, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "Did it feel good? Did he manage to fuck you better than I ever could?" His arm wrapped around you, a hand placing itself on the small of your back as he leaned into you. "Or did he leave you wanting more? Did you go home and grab that vibrator of yours, just wishing it was me that had been the one with you while you were forced to make yourself cum, because he couldn't?"

He moved, lifting you up so he could sit you on the desk. Of course, like always, it was cleared off ahead of time in anticipation of your visit.

"Maybe I need to show you who you belong to, hmm?" His hands moved down under your skirt, one resting on your inner thigh while the other gave an experimental touch to your clothed sex. You were already wet, your arousal felt through the thin cotton of your panties. "Soaking already, my dear? He must've left you worse off than I imagined." Jonathan purred.

"H-He barely touched me," You stuttered out, feeling Crane tug your underwear to the side, his deft fingers finding your clit. "All we did was make out." You let out a soft moan as he began slowly rubbing at the sensitive bud.

"I don't believe you." His hands left you, beginning to undo his belt. The prominent tent in his black slacks let you know just what was in store for you; he was starving for you. "Not when you admitted you let him touch what's mine." He continued, motioning for you to take your soaked panties off.

"What's yours?" You breathed out, slipping off the clothing in question, letting it fall to the ground below.

"You need to know who you belong to." He stated, pulling his cock out; hard and leaking pre-cum at the tip. Your pussy grew even wetter at the sight. You spread your legs on instinct as he came in closer, putting himself in between them, a hand resting on your hip while the other lined himself up with your eager cunt, the head of his cock teasing your entrance.

"Who do you belong to?" He asked staring into your eyes with his half-lidded, sultry ones swimming with lust and need. "Answer me correctly and I'll be nice and give you what you want."

"You. I belong to you. Dr. Jonathan Cra— oh, fuck!" You gasped out, feeling him thrust into you without warning. He set a quick, almost animalistic pace, wasting no time; not when he needed you so much. Every drag of his thick cock inside of your desperate cunt sent pleasure coursing through you.

"I bet he didn't fuck you as good as this," he groaned, a tight grip on your hips as he slammed into you, the lewd sounds of your shared pleasure filling the small space of his office. It had only been a few days since he had last fucked you, but with the way you were already trembling beneath him it felt like it had been months.

"You're the best I've —Oh!— ever had!" You managed to get out between your moans. It was true, too. Out of every man you'd ever been with, no man had made you feel as good as Jonathan did. "Harder– baby, please!" You begged, gripping the edge of the desk like your life depended on it.

"Look at you, begging like a slut," He growled, pounding into you even harder. "That's okay, darling. You're my little slut. Mine to fuck. Mine to ruin." He let out a loud groan as your pussy clamped down on him at the sound of his words. "Oh? Does that turn you on? The thought of me ruining you? Trust me, you're not going to want a single person other than me after I'm done with you, darling." You pulled him down, dragging him into a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Your tongue moved against his, just like you were made for each other.

"I love you," you whimpered out, feeling him nip at your neck. "Please— I want to be all yours. Only yours." You pleaded, your mind too clouded with the intense pleasure rocking through your body to fully process the potential impact of what you had just confessed.

"You already are." He responded, hips snapping against yours as he lost his rhythm. "I love you, too. I don't care what trouble I'll get into for what we've done. I don't care if I lose my job, as long as you're with me at the end of it all."

That sent you over the edge, along with the tip of his cock grazing your sweet spot. You came around him, your orgasm crashing over you as your legs shook with the force of it all. He spilled into you not long after, thick, warm cum shooting deep inside you and leaking out to drip down your thighs as he let out a long, loud groan of ecstasy.

You slumped back against the desk, feeling the cold wood against your warm, hot skin. Jonathan buried his head into the crook of your neck, pressing soft, chaste kisses to it as you both came down from your orgasmic highs. You stayed like that for a long moment until both of you calmed down, a blissful exhaustion filling you.

"There's a new restaurant that opened up in the town center," he smiled, caressing your cheek. "I hear it has some of the best Chicken Alfredo the city has to offer. Good wine, too."

You chuckled tiredly, not catching on to his offer. "You fucked me silly just so you could tell me about some Italian place?"

"I'm sure it's a better first date than whatever that guy got you," He said, letting out a chuckle of his own. "I'm free later tonight if that's not too short notice."

Your eyes shot open as the realization set in. "Wait— You're asking me out? What if someone from the University sees us, Jonathan? You could get—" He cut you off with a short, sweet kiss.

"Arkham always needs new doctors, darling. There's never a shortage of the need for psychiatrists. I'm tired of grading papers, anyway." He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. "You heard what I said earlier, didn't you? I love you. You belong to me."

You had finally learned who you belonged to, and you couldn't have been happier.

674 notes · View notes

cuntressgoingdigital · 2 months ago

Text

BAD HABIT | abby anderson x reader - college au!!

free palestine! click this link for more info

synopsis: you catch abby's eye during class and she becomes determined to make you her's. unfortunately, she can't bring herself to just outright admit her feelings, forcing herself through weeks of yearning and agony.

notes: i have been sitting on this since early october. finally finished it up! gets kinda rambly midway through. can you tell i love writing abby as a gay loser? titled after bad habit by steve lacy :P

cw: 18+ content MDNI, reader referred to as a girl, alcohol ment, dom! reader (if you squint), inexperienced! abby, no smut technically (but def not sfw), abby doesn't know how to communicate

word count: 4.9k

it was abby’s final year of college. she was finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. the last three years had been a horrendous rollercoaster of trials and tribulations. all of her classes were rigorous and extremely involved. it felt like she never slept, ate, or had any time to herself. she had a couple friends, but nothing too serious. in reality, they were probably closer to acquaintances. she made the mistake of following her boyfriend halfway across the country to attend the same college as him. all of her friends were his friends and their breakup, while semi-amicable, set her back as far as friendships go.

it wasn’t that she wasn’t good at making friends, she just didn’t have the time. making friends in your senior year of college was its own special beast. nobody wants to go out of their way to foster new friendships because of their temporary nature. everyone was applying for grad school, hoping to get as far away from home as possible. living off campus isolates you, ripping you away from the forced community that comes with living in a dormitory.

none of that mattered. abby was perfectly fine by her lonesome.

she had never felt compelled to establish a connection until she stepped foot into her french romantic literature class. everyone called it a gimme class. do the readings, write your reviews and reports, easy A. it was a low level class and she needed the elective credit, so why not? it was an 8AM, but she had dealt with worse.

she was setting up her ipad and pencil when she felt someone brush past the back of her chair. she looked up and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. she swears she had never seen a girl more beautiful than you. it felt like one of those cheesy rom coms where all the sound in the room dropped out, the entire world slowed, and your smile lit up the room.

“sorry!” you whispered, making your way a few chairs down and getting as comfortable as possible on those horrid plastic chairs.

every day for two weeks she just watched you from afar. abby perked up every time you raised your hand to give insight on that week’s readings. you were intimidatingly smart. everything you said, she couldn’t have possibly come up with. she hadn’t missed a single day of class so far.

but, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say to you. a simple “hi, nice to meet you” wouldn’t cut it. she didn’t want to come off as creepy or nonchalant. she needed a plan.

one day you had left your bag open on your desk and abby caught a glimpse of a novel. it wasn’t one of the books that was required reading for class. was it a leisure read? immediately, she looked up the title and read the synopsis.

she couldn’t fathom any way to make a book sound less interesting.

alas, at this point she was committed.

that afternoon, during a small break between classes, she made her way to the library. after wandering on one of the floors for too long, she finally found the novel in question. the plan was to read it, hope that you left your bag open again, and ask about it after class. simple enough.

she took the elevator down to the first floor and brought the book up to the check out desk. there was no one behind the desk and she wondered if she should come back later.

“sorry!”

abby knew that voice.

you sauntered out from the hidden staff area behind the desk. abby felt stupid for letting her crush affect her like this. her face was hot, she had to make a concerted effort to breathe evenly, and suddenly she forgot how to socialize. all she could do was stiffly set the book on the desk.

“aren’t you in my class? french romantic lit, right?” you took the book in your hands and flipped it to the back cover to scan the barcode on the corner.

“uh, yeah. i think so?” she had never felt more awkward in her life, sliding her student ID across the desk.

“well, it’s nice to meet you…” you pick up the plastic card and read over it. “abby.”

there was a quiet beep and abby stood there awkwardly trying to think of something to say. “have you read this book before?” she blurted out. “i just…the reviews seemed to be pretty split. people either love it or hate it, y’know?”

a smile stretched across your face. you were clearly more than delighted to give your thoughts, recommendations for other books, and authors who had a similar writing style. abby thought your enthusiasm was adorable. she had absolutely no clue what you were talking about, but was happy you got to share your ideas with her.

she cleared her throat. “i guess i’ll give you my thoughts after class one day?”

you nod excitedly. “i would really love that.”

abby collected her items and turned on her heel to leave the library. she felt accomplished, only to realize a few moments later,

fuck.

she didn’t even ask for your name.

that night abby started the novel. she was determined to finish before she saw you again on wednesday. homework was suddenly tossed onto the backburner. her childish crush took precedent. for the next day and a half she did nothing but read this novel, even going as far as making annotations and talking points for you.

she woke up bright and early on wednesday. the sun was hanging lowly in the sky. she couldn’t go back to sleep even if she wanted to. she drug her body out of bed and pulled on a black tshirt and grey sweatpants for her early morning workout. she preferred to get her workout out of the way during the early morning hours to avoid the crowd of people in her apartment’s rec center and lower her chances of social interaction.

her workout was a little more rushed than usual. she wanted to make sure she looked well put together when she approached you after class. she was meticulous with her shower routine, pairing the scent of her body wash with her lotions and deodorant. pine and amber with a hint of lavender. next was her hair that she braided and re-braided at least three times in front of her slightly fogged up bathroom mirror. she peeked at her phone and noticed it was way later than she thought. she ripped a black short sleeve button up and olive green corduroy pants off of their hanger and slipped on some shoes before she ran off to the bus stop.

she made it into the classroom right as the professor was reading off the first slide. the feeling of several pairs of eyes on her was unbearable.

for the entire seventy five minutes of class she could only stare at you. you were feverishly typing on your laptop while also scribbling something down in your notebook. the clock seemed to tick slower than usual.

“alright, that covers everything i wanted to address today. i’ll let y’all out a few minutes early. go enjoy the weather outside.”

abby couldn’t pack up faster. she prayed you weren’t in any kind of rush.

“hey!”

abby spun around to see your face. thank god, you had approached her. this eliminated the possibility of her chickening out.

“oh, hey!” this had thrown off abby’s entire script. “sorry i ran off yesterday. i didn’t catch your name?”

you chuckled at the realization. you hadn’t noticed either. after you properly introduced yourself, abby offered a “nice to officially meet you.”

you waste no time getting to your initial reason for approaching her. “did you start the book?”

the sound of your voice had butterflies swarming about in her stomach.

“yeah, i finished it actually.”

you slung your backpack over your shoulders. “which way are you going?”

the two of you set off in the direction of the coffee shop on campus. abby went over her talking points and luckily you two shared a lot of the same ideas about the themes and writing style of the book. abby made a mental note to read more of your recommendations.

the coffee shop was coming up on the horizon and abby had already completely derailed her walk to her next class. she had to wrap this up.

“did you maybe wanna study together sometime? you looked really into today’s lecture.” was that a weird thing to say? now it sounded like she was watching your every move.

she was.

but, that wasn’t your business.

“oh god, no. i hated this week’s reading. way too dense and the translation was clunky.” your head dropped in embarrassment. “i was actually playing sudoku.”

god, you were the cutest thing.

“dinner, then?” she ground her fingernails into the fabric of her backpack straps. “i just think it would be nice to have someone to talk about the homework with.” there was a beat of silence and immediately she felt the need to backtrack “it’s okay if not! i’m sure you’re busy and all.”

“dinner sounds fun! i can do tonight? maybe around seven?”

the two of you exchanged phone numbers and abby said a quick goodbye before rushing off in the opposite direction, praying she wasn’t late to her next class.

you mentally high fived yourself. you had only made one friend during your time at college and that was your first year dorm roommate. she was great and all, but a senior with only one friend felt sort of pathetic. you were positive the two of you only ended up being friends because of your forced close proximity. you both loved each other to death, but you weren’t so sure you would have found each other otherwise.

this time you made a friend all on your own. well, maybe you two weren’t quite friends yet, but you’d try your damndest to make your friendship status official. she was nice enough so far.

and really pretty.

like, really pretty.

an hour or so later, abby sent a text with a link to a restaurant menu. you couldn’t help but open the message immediately.

abby a.: is this good?

you clicked on the link and your eyes grew wide. this was one of the places you would only eat at for special occasions. the cheapest entree was thirty dollars. there was no way you could afford that. you were a full time student living off of your need based scholarship and the meager wages you received from your work study job. if you looked you would probably see double digits in your checking account.

you: this looks rlly nice but idk if i’ll be able to afford it

you: i’m srry!!

before you could lock your phone, the grey bubble appeared again.

abby a.: don’t worry i invited you. i’ll grab the check.

the idea of being indebted to her made you uneasy, but you couldn’t bring yourself to disagree with her. you didn’t want to seem high maintenance.

your 8AM was your only class of the day, so in normal fashion you gallivanted around campus and sat in front of the library, people watching, until your shift started. the older woman who worked the same desk shift as you helped you on the daily crossword, forcing the time to pass faster.

it was a little more than an hour before you and abby were supposed to meet up when your phone vibrated.

abby a.: i’ll pick you up. send me your address.

you had fully intended to take the twenty minute bus ride over to the restaurant. you knew the bus routes like the back of your hand on account of you not owning a car. it wasn’t as bad as everyone made it out to be.

abby pulled up at 7PM on the dot. once you received the “outside” text you grabbed your bag from it’s designated hook near the door.

“where ya goin’?”

you looked back to see your best friend and roommate, liz.

“dinner.”

“like a date?”

“nah. just some girl from my class.” your hand reached for the doorknob and pulled the door open. “i’ll see you!”

“have fun. make good choices!” she called out before you could shut the door behind you.

you peered around the parking lot, trying to find her car. you pulled your phone from your bag and unlocked it, preparing to call abby to play hot and cold until you found her. then, you heard a voice call your name.

abby was hanging out the sunroof of her car, waving at you. you approached her car and caught the brand sigil on the front grille. it was a BMW. you didn’t know much about cars, but you knew those were expensive. you opened the doors to see a custom leather interior and a high tech touch screen on the center console. it felt like you weren’t even allowed to sit down in this car.

“hey, sorry it’s kind of messy.”

there were maybe a dozen crumbs on the floor mats and a couple straw wrappers in the cup holder.

“if this is messy for you, you’d hate to see my room.” you awkwardly tried to laugh off the tension you felt. “nice car.”

abby moved the gear shift into drive and started to pull out of the parking lot. “yeah, it’s an early graduation present. i was hoping for something a little more practical. like a subaru or something.” she immediately bit her tongue. she probably sounded so stuck up right now. “i mean, this is perfectly fine! i just…what if i have some furniture to move, y’know?”

smooth recovery.

“no, no i get it!” you, in fact, did not get it. you would kill to be able to drive yourself across town and not have to haul your groceries along with you on the bus.

abby’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “you can take aux if you want.” she motioned to the wire hanging out of the charging port.

this was one of the worst things you could ever hear. now you had to carefully curate a few songs to last the duration of the short drive. shuffling your liked songs would surely end in embarrassment and you couldn’t tell what music abby would be into. you haphazardly queued a couple songs and analyzed every change in abby’s face, trying to decipher whether she liked the songs or not. to your delight she began humming along to one of the songs.

“didn’t expect you to be into this sort of music.”

abby shrugged. “i’m full of surprises, i guess.”

you made small talk about your major and your class load for the semester. all of the typical stuff you go over with anyone you meet in a college town. then, you discussed plans for grad school.

“i think i’m gonna take a year or two off and travel for a while. see the world and all that.” you picked up on the way abby’s eyes sparkled when she talked about it.

“what are you gonna do about money and stuff?” finally, you had an excuse to ask how rich she was.

“my dad’s a neurosurgeon. he rolled right through undergrad into medical school with no time off. he wants me to take some time and find myself. make sure i’m committed to whatever my next step is.”

you wordlessly nodded. the puzzle pieces fell into place. now you were almost embarrassed about not being well off. what could you possibly have in common with some uppity rich girl?

once the two of you started talking over dinner, it seemed like you actually had a lot in common. you both held a passion for the same movies, had slight overlap with your music taste, and held similar political beliefs. you had judged her a little too fast. you let her go on about her coin collection and in exchange she let you beak into a tangent about your hobbies. before you knew it one of the servers came up to your table.

“hey folks, i brought the check over for you. take your time.”

you were mortified when you saw it was thirty minutes after close. if your server hadn’t practically run off you would’ve offered an apology.

you instinctively peeked at the check and saw three digits. your shock must’ve been obvious as abby snatched the receipt holder from you.

“i told you, i’ve got it.” she put down a heavy metal card and you were once again reminded about the difference in your tax brackets.

dinner had gone so well it became a weekly endeavor. every wednesday you met up with her so she could show you a couple different spots around town. every time she paid the bill before you could even say anything. whenever you mentioned wanting to read some newly released book that the library hadn’t ordered yet, she would shyly present it to you the next time you two saw each other. weekly dinner dates turned into coffee dates between classes, which turned into study dates at home. she learned your coffee order and work schedule so she could occasionally pop into the library while you were working and deliver you a treat. you became inseparable rather quickly. often walking hand in hand across campus after your seminar.

liz caught you smiling at your phone and peered over your shoulder.

“hey, hey! what happened to privacy?” you scolded.

liz looked you up and down. “what’s going on between you two? always texting, always facetiming, always hanging out.”

“nothing! we’re just friends.”

it was clear she didn’t believe you. “there’s no fucking way y’all are ‘just friends’.”

“i can be just friends with a girl!”

“mhm. sure, sure.” liz left you to study (read: spend your entire night texting back and forth with abby).

that night when you laid in bed, you finally gave your relationship some thought. were you two “just friends”? you were used to burying your semi-romantic thoughts about your female friends. that had been your MO ever since you discovered you were gay. you tried not to think about abby in that way. you were so excited to make a new friend, you couldn’t bear potentially ruining things with those thoughts.

you two were just close friends. that’s it.

that’s all it would ever be.

abby a.: goodnight see you in the morning <3

unbeknownst to you, abby was also spiraling about your relationship. had the little heart been too much? she was trying so hard to be subtle. either you were completely uninterested or she wasn’t being obvious enough. what was she supposed to say? “i think i have a crush on you” was way too forward. what if you didn’t feel the same way? now she would look like an idiot and have to bear the next couple months showing up to the same class as you three times a week.

even worse, you were the first girl abby had ever properly pursued. her breakup with owen forced her to finally contemplate if she ever actually loved him. well, of course she loved him, but was she ever in love with him? after a month she had decided it had never been the latter. that had been nearly a year ago and in that time she had never actually made an effort to seek a relationship with anyone romantically. she made out with girls at parties, hooked up with one girl months ago, but this was different. she wanted your dinner dates to be real dates. to sleep with you in her arms. post you on her story with a caption that said ‘my girlfriend is so beautiful’.

how the fuck was she going to make this work?

she laid awake drafting different text messages and formulating different scenarios where it would be appropriate for her to confess to you.

that weekend abby invited you over for a sleepover. nothing too crazy. just wine, takeout, and a movie. the hour it took for you to respond was possibly the worst hour of her life.

you: omg sounds fun!! i’ll finish up my work at 8?

abby breathed a sigh of relief. she spent the next several hours stress cleaning. her entire house was pristine by the time she was meant to pick you up.

confessing to you over text almost felt disrespectful. the wine would compensate for her intense fear of rejection. if you didn’t reciprocate, she’d just politely call you an uber and that would be that. the prospect of ignoring her feelings for you until the end of the semester trumped her fear of having to be in the same classroom with a girl who rejected her.

she just couldn’t take it anymore.

when she pulled into the driveway of your apartment she saw that you were already waiting outside, a small duffel bag in hand.

you happily trotted over to her car and hopped in. the seat was perfectly adjusted for you as always. you took over aux without abby prompting you to.

you always got the passenger princess treatment.

abby listened to you tell her every intricate detail of your day. the dog you got to pet on campus, how the coffee shop messed up your order and you were too scared to tell them, and the crossword you weren’t able to finish because your usual coworker wasn’t on shift.

while she was happy to listen to you, all she could think about was the fact that this may be the last time she got to hear your daily musings.

“you okay, babe?”

the hairs on the back of her neck always stood up when she heard you call her that.

“i’m fine. just thinking about this assignment i forgot to finish.”

“i can help you when we get home. as long as it’s not your orgo chem class. you’re on your own with that.”

no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, you could feel the tension in the air. something was off, but you couldn’t tell what. abby was speaking less and just seemed out of it in general. every time you asked if she was okay it was always the same

“i’m okay. don’t worry.”

you brush it off and carry on with the night as if all was normal. you ordered chinese food from your favorite hole in the wall restaurant and plopped down on her couch. it took you thirty minutes to decide on a movie, the two of you debating the pros and cons of every option. it didn’t take long for the food to be delivered and after abby gave you permission to eat on the couch you dug into your food.

“is this your first meal of the day?” abby knew you were terrible at taking care of yourself. not that she was much better.

“shut up.” you uttered through the food in your mouth.

a few minutes into the movie, abby offers you a blanket which you eagerly take. you rest your legs over her lap and lay back against one of the throw pillows. abby almost felt wrong touching you. she had plans to irrevocably change your relationship before the night was over.

would you be able to stay friends with her after?

“do you want wine? i figured rosé would be a safe choice.”

you affirmatively hummed, prompting abby to rush off into her dark kitchen. she just needed a few moments to breathe.

“can i ask a stupid question?” you called from the living room.

abby felt the need to dry heave. “maybe.” was all she could offer as a response.

there was a few moments of uncertain silence before you spoke again. “liz is convinced we’re like…dating, or something? is there something going on between us?”

you were always so forward. it was a trait of yours that abby admired. except this time.

like the day you first spoke after class, you had completely derailed her scripts and scenarios.

“i…don’t know?” the question had her hands shaking so bad she couldn’t pull the cork out of the wine bottle.

you hummed once more. “i don’t know either.”

the movie filled the uneasy silence between the two of you. abby was panicking and you surprisingly weren’t.

“i think i like you.” you were the first to break the silence. “wait, that sounded really childish. i just…you know what i mean.”

finally, abby could exhale.

“i’m sorry. did i make things weird?”

abby rushed back into the living room and saw you cocooned in her blanket, partially shielding your face from her.

“holy fuck. no, no!” she tripped over her words, trying to skip to whatever part of the script she intended to use for this exact moment. finally, she cleared her throat. “that’s kind of why i approached you the first time. i mean, i’m glad we became friends!” once again, she felt the need to backtrack. “when i first saw you in class i thought you were really pretty. i’ve been trying to work up the nerve to say this from the first time we met.”

you finally met her gaze. abby was shocked to hear you giggle. “that’s sweet.” you reached out for her, beckoning her to come sit next to you. “i wish i had known. you’re always acting so mysterious about your feelings.” you teased.

you sat up and loosely wrapped your arms around her shoulders. “so…was your plan to corner me here and bombard me with your confession?”

“okay, it sounds weird when you say it like that.” how had you read her intentions so accurately?

“i don’t hear any denial.” abby refused to answer. she had suffered enough tonight. “enlighten me, what was your plan if i said i liked you back?”

abby shrugged. she really hadn’t expected to get this far. she spent more time planning for a rejection than reciprocity.

you leaned into her. “well, i think you should kiss me.”

abby had been dreaming of this moment. quite literally. whenever she had vaguely scandalous dreams it was always about you. she’d wanted this for so long and here she was awkwardly fumbling as she pressed her lips against yours.

you delicately brushed a few fly away hairs behind her ear and leaned into the kiss. you could feel the hesitance in abby’s body language and knew you’d have to be the captain of the ship for the time being. you closed the space between the two of you, now chest to chest.

“you don’t have to be nervous.” you whispered in her ear while you moved to straddle her lap.

abby placed her hands firmly at your hips, finally working up the courage to just touch you. the movie was long forgotten when she lost herself in your kiss. her hand made it halfway up your shirt before she broke the kiss.

“is that okay?”

you giggled against her lips. “yeah, have at it.”

the joking tone eased her mind and emboldened her. her hand found its way fully under the fabric of your shirt, cupping your left breast. her thumb brushed against your nipple, making you sharply inhale. you grinded down against her crotch and abby whimpered against your lips.

you couldn’t tell how much time had passed. the both of you were feeling sensitive and hot all over. you were desperate to draw those sweet mewls out of her.

“okay, fuck this movie.” all at once you pulled away from her. abby looked like she could’ve cried at your sudden absence. “do you wanna…like…”

“yeah,” she took a moment to catch her breath. “yeah. the bedroom is this way.” she took your hand and led you past the kitchen to her bedroom that was bathed in moonlight from the wall length windows. she rushed to close the curtains before she pulled her shirt off, revealing her black sports bra. you took her hand and collapsed against her bed, tugging her down with you.

your fingers reached for the string of her sweatpants, working them down her thighs and tossing them to the side.

“have you done this before?” you whispered in between kisses to her neck and collarbones.

“sort of. a while ago.”

“well i’m happy to give you a refresher course.” you flipped abby onto her back so you could be on top. “just relax.” you hooked your fingers into the waistband of her boxers and pulled her thighs apart.

the sex lasted for an absurdly long time. for a beginner, abby was surprisingly adept. she was a quick learner. by the end of it, neither of you had the energy to go back to the movie. you slept soundly in her arms, not even bothering to redress.

the next morning you were harshly pulled from your sleep by an alarm. it was saturday. there was no way it was your phone.

abby shot straight up in bed and hastily pulled her phone off of the nightstand.

“fuck. i’m sorry. i forgot i have rugby practice.” she leapt out of bed and started digging through her closet for fresh workout clothes. “for the record, i had plans to make you breakfast and everything. the whole nine yards.”

you stretched out in her bed, missing her warmth. “oh, i’m sure.”

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #nisa writes #leaving it open ended so i have an excuse to write rugby captain abby #i will be terrorizing yall with more college au #idk i kinda hate this but i wrote it so its getting posted #divider by cafekitsune

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ddarker-dreams · 1 year ago

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play wrestling — blade.

Embarrassment doesn’t find you easily.

To experience embarrassment implies a degree of self-awareness. While you possess some, it’s decreased significantly compared to your earlier years. Such is the natural progression of life. This is why you felt free to act on a little impulse, initially uncaring of how it’d reflect on you.

However, faced with two eyes as crimson as freshly spilled blood, you can’t help but do some reassessing.

“… What are you doing?” Blade asks, dryly. You feel the low rumble of his baritone voice against your palms, which you’ve splayed against his chest. His neutral countenance doesn’t give much away. According to your peer-reviewed scientific analysis, he alternates between three expressions — apathy, irritation, and wrath. There is an additional secret one for when it’s just the two of you and he doesn’t think you’re looking.

From what you can tell, you’ve landed yourself on the apathetic side of the spectrum. You can work with that. You’ll commit to the bit.

“Besting an intergalactic criminal in combat, obviously,” you scoff, faking a bravado you don’t have.

“Hm.”

“…”

Is he not going to do anything to free himself from this position?!

Blade had silently slid himself next to where you sat on the floor, playing with your phone. This unique opportunity activated a primal part of your brain that probably should’ve stayed in the vault. You wrangled him down. Now, he’s lying flat on his back, with you sitting victorious atop his lower abdomen. Long strands of his black hair fall along his side, painting a pretty picture. You suppress the urge to run your hands through his silky locks. That can come later, you have an objective to achieve.

“Are you finished?”

“Wh— well, no,” you frown. And here you thought he might indulge you. “You have to, y’know, fight back…?”

He raises an eyebrow and you want to groan.

“But I’d win.”

The declaration is made like it’s a foregone conclusion. Which, if you’re being honest, isn’t wrong. Still, he should give you some credit. You can hold your own in a fight! Maybe you’re not waving-around-a-three-thousand-pound-ancient-sword good, but you’re decent enough. He’s no fun. Kafka would’ve played around with you.

“How can you be so sure— eek!”

He grabs you by the shoulders and flips you around, reversing your position. Despite the immense speed he used, your head doesn’t hit the ground hard like it should’ve. He cushioned the impact by essentially cradling the back of your head with his hand. This is why you never believe him when he denies being a ‘secret softie.’ You know the truth.

“This is how,” he says.

You pout. “Did I at least put up a good fight?”

His silence speaks volumes.

After getting his fill of how nice you look beneath him, he climbs off you. The second you’re no longer restrained, you begin your counterattack. You lunge at him, intending to pin him down, only to feel the cool leather of his gloves against your wrists. You struggle valiantly to regain your freedom. All this does is amuse him further.

“We’re pretty evenly matched, right?” You ask, beginning to grow breathless from the energy you’re exerting.

The corners of his lips twitch upward.

“Mhm. Right.”

#he's very beautiful to me.#blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #blade brainrot #my stuff

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hottiesforhockey · 25 days ago

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may the best brother win pt 4⎜hughes brothers

pairings: quinn hughes x afab!reader ⎜luke hughes x afab!reader ⎜ jack hughes x afab!reader ⎜ genre: romance ⎜bachelorette-esque situations ⎜angst? ⎜friends - to - lovers warnings: not much tbh ⎜very angsty ⎜happy ending ⎜ synopsis: you have been friends with the hughes brothers for years - but why does this summer feel so different? word count: 6k authors note: this is the final chapter of may the best brother win! I know a lot of you had thoughts on who she should end up with so I hope too many people don't hate me for my choices! I hope you all enjoyed reading (cause I know I enjoyed writing) and will continue to support me with my work going forwards! Feel free to check out my upcoming list to see what I'm working on next! pt 1 ⎜pt 2 ⎜ pt 3 ⎜

(unedited)

It’s close to two in the morning when you finally slide out of Luke’s grip, replacing your body with a firm pillow which he snuggles straight into, a delighted smile on his face. Your frown deepens as you tiptoe around the room, placing as many of your belongings as you can manage into the suitcase - zipping it up as quietly as possible before pulling on Luke’s oversized hoodie and the pair of sweatpants you had left out, your phone dinging with the confirmation of your flight back home.

You look over Luke still fast asleep in the bed one more time as you let out a long sigh, silently walking towards the bed leaning down to push his unruly curls away from his face. “Please don’t be mad.” You whisper into the quiet night, placing a soft kiss against his hairline before tugging the blankets further up his body and sneaking out of the room with your belongings in tow.

You’re barely down the stairs when you notice the soft glow coming from the entry room - someone is awake and judging by the silence it has to be Quinn. You knew he had a tendency to stay up late at night, enjoying the quiet of the world before eventually tucking himself into bed - you just never thought tonight would be the night he stayed up later then usual. You let out another sigh as you continue your way down the stairs.

“You’re leaving?” Quinns voice is quiet, a soft lamp besides him the only thing illuminating the room as you place your suitcase by the front door - glancing down at your phone as you track the uber.

“I have to, Quinn.” The desperation in your tone flings Quinn from his seat in the armchair - his steps leading him towards you before he can even think about it. You take two steps back as he gets close enough to reach you - his own feet finally pausing as he takes you in.

Wrapped up in sweatpants and Luke’s hoodie, you hair pulled back from your face and all your belongings sitting at your feet.

“I’m coming with you.” Quinn says on a long sigh, his hands pushing his soft hair away from his forehead, his face starting to crumble slightly as he nods his head in determination.

“No.” You whisper, your phone dinging with the notification that your uber was 2 minutes away. “I need you to stay - someone has to stop them from ripping each other apart, from ripping themselves apart.” You explain, letting out a shaky sigh as you take a few steps towards him, lifting yourself up to press a soft kiss against his cheek.

“I’m sorry that I have to ask you to do this, Quinn.” You take one step back. “I’m sorry that you have to be the one to fix things, again.” You take another step back. “I’m sorry.” You whisper as you pick up your suitcase again, hearing Quinn let out a soft groan.

“Just—” He starts, “Just tell me when you get home safe” He says, his teeth chewing on his bottom lip, “I just need to know that you’re okay.”

“I will.” You agree, looking over the oldest Hughes brother one more time before sneaking out the front door, shutting it behind you with barely a sound as you slide into your uber, letting out a stifled sob as you hold your hand to your mouth, watching the house disappear in the review mirror, watching everything you’d even know be left behind.

“Where is she?” Quinn groans as he pulls himself in a sitting position - he had waited for the rest of the night for your updates, perched in his favourite arm chair the glow of the lamp the only thing keeping him company as he waited for your message.

number 1 fan 🪭: just arrived at the airport - probably won’t be home till lunchtime but I’ll keep you posted.

number 1 fan 🪭: I’m sorry.

celebrity crush ♥️: don’t be sorry, just be safe.

Quinn had responded to your message without a second thought - he didn’t want apologies, he wanted you to come home even thought a part of him knew this was what you needed - the past week had turned into a shit fight so quickly, none of you really anticipating how a fun bet would turn into a broken household.

“All of her stuff is gone?” Luke shouts again, Quinn can hear the banging of doors as Luke races around the house trying to find you, the desperation evident in the way he comes bolting down the stairs next, his eyes meeting Quinns. Quinn isn’t entirely sure what Luke sees in his expression but his younger brothers face drops, his mouth dropping into a frown as he stumbles on the words he’s trying to get out.

“Quinn, where is she— tell me she didn’t leave.” Luke begs, his voice cracking on the last word.

Quinn sighs deeply, running his hand over his face before locking eyes with Luke. “She’s gone.”

“Why didn’t you stop her?” Luke’s tone is accusatory, frustration and fear lacing his words.

“She needed space, Luke. We all saw it. She couldn’t keep doing this… to herself, to us.” Quinn’s voice is calm but firm, his gaze unwavering. Luke shakes his head, pacing the room.

“No, no. I can fix this. I have to fix this. I’ll call her—I told her I’d fix it.” Luke lets out a shaky breath, his fingers tangling in his hair, “She didn’t even give me a chance to fix it.”

“Don’t.” Quinn steps in front of Luke, stopping him in his tracks. “Give her time. The last thing she needs is pressure from us right now.” Luke’s shoulders slump, defeat written all over him.

“I didn’t want her to leave… She didn’t even say goodbye.”

“She was upset, Luke.” Quinn places a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder. “She did what was best for her and we have to be okay with that.” Luke nods slowly, his jaw clenched.

“How are you so calm right now?” Luke says, his gaze shooting up the stairs as they both hear the sound of Jack’s door swinging open.

“What the hell is all the commotion about?” Jack mumbles as he takes heavy steps down stairs.

“I’m not calm, Luke — I’m freaking out but she’s an adult she knows how to take care of herself and we need to trust her.” Quinn tries to explain clearly, not used to the sight of his youngest brother being so genuinely furious. Luke was the loveable one, he was fun and energetic but the way he was glaring at Jack made the pit in Quinn’s stomach grow.

“Luke, don—”

“This is your fault.” Luke sneers as Jack comes into view, the middle brother confused by the sudden aggression.

“What’s my fault?” Jack asks cautiously, his brows furrowed as he looks between his brothers.

“She’s gone because of you,” Luke accuses, stepping closer to Jack, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’re the one who started all of this. The stupid bet, the arguments—everything. You pushed her away.” Jack’s expression shifts from confusion to guilt. He opens his mouth to defend himself but no words come out. Instead, he looks to Quinn for some sort of backup, but Quinn remains silent, his gaze heavy with disappointment.

“Luke, stop,” Quinn finally says, his voice firm but not harsh. “We’re all to blame. We let things get out of hand. Don’t put this all on Jack.”

“He’s the one who made her feel like she was doing something wrong!” Luke’s voice rises, cracking with emotion. “She was so worried about what he thought and about making him mad and all he did was make it worse.”

Jack flinches at the words, his shoulders slumping. “I didn’t mean to…” he mumbles, his voice barely audible.

“But you did, you called her a slut,” Luke snaps. “And now she’s gone.” The room falls into silence, the weight of Luke’s words hanging in the air. Jack drops onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. Quinn sighs, running a hand through his hair as he watches his brothers fall apart.

“We can fix this,” Quinn says softly, breaking the silence. “But we need to give her time. She’ll come back when she’s ready.”

Luke shakes his head, tears brimming in his eyes. “What if she doesn’t?”

“She will,” Quinn says with quiet certainty. “But we need to be better for her when she does. No more bets, no more fights.”

Jack lifts his head, his eyes red-rimmed. “Do you really think she’ll come back?”

Quinn nods. “I do. But it won’t be because we beg her to. It’ll be because she wants to. Because she feels safe here again.” The sound of Quinn’s phone buzzing breaks the tense silence. He quickly pulls it out of his pocket, his heart racing as he sees your name flash across the screen.

number 1 fan 🪭: just boarded my flight. i’ll text when i land.

Quinn exhales shakily, typing back a quick response.

celebrity crush ♥️: okay. Fly safe.

He stares at the screen for a moment, hoping for more, but no other messages come through. He pockets his phone and looks back at his brothers. “She’s okay, she just got on her flight.” Quinn updates the brothers, Luke letting out a breath of relief as he slumps against the couch, his glare focused on Jack as Quinn runs his fingers through his hair, for what seems to be the thousandth time that night. Luke’s phone dings next, the youngest brother ripping it out of his pocket as he stares down at the message his frown unchanging but his posture relaxing a little.

bestie boo 👻 : Hey Luke, just thought I’d let you know that I’m okay - I’m sorry I up and left out of nowhere and I’m sorry I never said goodbye, but just know leaving you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I know you’re worried but this isn’t goodbye forever I just need to clear my head a little, so don’t be too harsh on your brothers - I’ll message you later, promise.

Lukey pookie 🐥 : Just don’t leave me for too long - I can come to you.

Luke knows he’s coming off as desperate.

But he is desperate.

Luke’s head perks up at the sound of Jack’s phone dinging, his brother hesitantly pulling it out of his pocket as he lets out a long sigh, a whimper sitting in the back of the throat as he drops it back in his lap.

“Well what does it say?” Luke pries, his brother owes him this - owes them all this.

“She said I forgive you, I hope you can forgive me.” Jack lets out a low growl of frustration as he pushes himself up from his seat. “I can’t let her leave it like this, I’m going after her.” He grumbles, stomping his way to the front door for his keys, his hands shaking as he tucked them into his pocket.

“No, you’re not.” Quinn cuts in, standing in front of the front door as both brothers look at him like he’s got two heads, their mouths falling open as he crosses his arms over his chest. “She’s asking us for one thing and we are going to give it to her, whether you like it or not.” Quinn’s fingers reach for his hair again but he drops them, “Both of you go take a breather, she’ll let us know when she’s home and then we can go from there.” All the brothers nod, Luke being the first to leave, his long legs carrying him out of the house before anyone can second guess it - Jack leaves next dragging himself back up the stairs to his room, leaving Quinn back where he started the night in his arm chair with the lamp still glowing a soft yellow.

His phone dings again in his hand.

number 1 fan 🪭: I love you all, I hope you know that.

It’s the first time in years Quinn has cried as hard as he does in that arm chair.

“What do you mean you’re not going back to Michigan?” Your mums voice carries through your headphones as you roughly chop the vegetables in front of you. “What happened? I don’t understand why you left in the first place.” Your mother continues, not stopping as you place your knife back on the chopping board letting out a long sigh.

“It’s complicated, but I feel like maybe have the summer apart will help mend things, give everyone some space to think.” You explain, rolling your eyes as your mum continues to try to convince you to start heading back to Michigan, claiming her mothers intuition is telling her it’s the right choice, her words only pausing at the ringing of your intercom.

“Look, I’ve got to go but I’ll call you back later.” You say, quickly bidding your mum goodbye as you hang up the phone call, slipping your headphones around your neck before walking over to your front door, pressing the buzzer to let the delivery driver in. “Must be the amazon guy.” You shrug, waiting until your hear the loud knock at the door.

Luke stands there, drenched from the rain, his hoodie clinging to him, water dripping from the ends of his curls. His eyes — tired, desperate, and stormy — lock onto yours, and for a long, breathless moment, neither of you speaks.

“You weren’t going to call.” His voice is low, rough around the edges. There’s no question in his tone — just a quiet statement of fact.

Your throat tightens. “I thought it’d be easier this way.”

“Easier for who?” His jaw clenches as he steps inside without waiting for an invitation, the door closing behind him with a soft click. The silence stretches thin, like a wire pulled taut, ready to snap. “Because it sure as hell hasn’t been easier for me.”

You swallow hard, wrapping your arms around yourself as if that might shield you from the intensity of his stare. “What do you want me to say, Luke?”

“I want you to tell me why you left,” he says, his voice cracking slightly. “I want to know why you didn’t even give me a chance to fix things.”

Your chest tightens painfully. “I didn’t think there was anything left to fix.”

His eyes narrow, frustration flickering across his face. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.” Your resolve wavers under his gaze. You take a step back, needing distance, but he follows. There’s nowhere to run — no place to hide from the weight of his presence.

“Everything was falling apart,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “The fights, the tension… It felt like we were breaking, Luke. I couldn’t keep pretending everything was okay. I couldn’t pretend like it wasn’t my fault.” Luke lets out a low scoff at your words, his head shaking as he continues to step towards you.

“You didn’t have to leave.” His voice softens, the anger bleeding out, replaced by something more vulnerable.

Tears prick at your eyes, and you shake your head. “I was scared.”

“Of what?” he asks, stepping closer again, his tone more pleading than demanding now.

“Of losing you,” you admit, your voice barely audible. “Of losing what all of us had before the stupid bet, we were best friends, Luke and now Jack can’t even look at me.” Luke exhales shakily, running a hand through his wet hair.

“You could never lose me, and Jack—” He pauses, a grimace on his face, “Jack’s complicated.”

“So you all keep saying.” You sigh, moving the piece of hair that’s falls onto your face, you look away, your gaze falling to the floor. “You deserve better then me, you all do and maybe it’s best if we all just take a bre—.”

“Stop.” His voice is firm, pulling your attention back to him. His eyes are burning with emotion, and when he speaks again, his voice is raw. “Don’t tell me what I deserve. Don’t decide for me. I’m not some fragile thing you need to protect.”

Your hands tremble at your sides. “Luke—”

“No.” He takes another step forward, so close now you can feel the warmth radiating off him despite the cold rain soaking his clothes. “You don’t get to walk away and tell me it’s for my own good. You don’t get to leave without saying goodbye and pretend like it was some noble choice.” His words cut deep, hitting every raw nerve you’ve been trying to ignore.

The tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over, and your voice cracks as you say, “I didn’t know what else to do.” Any hint of Luke’s anger dissolves completely from his body as he steps towards you, wrapping his arms around you tightly, your sobs muffled in his chest.

“Why didn’t you stay? We could’ve talked about this sooner instead of you just keeping yourself all cooped up in this stupid apartment.” Luke sighs, his chin perched on the top of your head as he rocks you back and forth letting you cry into the fabric of his hoodie.

“I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me,” you whisper, your voice muffled against Luke’s chest. “After everything that happened, I thought it was easier if I just… disappeared for a while.” Luke pulls back slightly, just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your tears. His expression is soft, tender, but there’s a fire in his eyes that you can’t ignore.

“Do you really think so little of me?” he asks quietly. “Do you think I’d just let you walk away without a fight?” You shake your head, your hands gripping the front of his hoodie.

“It wasn’t about you, Luke. It was about me. I couldn’t handle the guilt, the pressure—everything just felt so overwhelming.”

Luke takes a deep breath, his hands dropping to his sides. “I get that. I do. But you can’t make these kinds of decisions alone. We’re supposed to be a team.” The word “team” hits you harder than you expect, and for a moment, you’re both silent, the weight of everything unspoken hanging in the air. Luke steps back, running a hand through his wet curls, shaking his head.

“Jack’s a mess,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence. “He’s been beating himself up since the second you left. He knows he messed up. Hell, we all did..” You sigh, rubbing your temples. “He doesn’t leave his room, Quinn puts food outside his door and it’s usually gone so at least we know he’s eating.” Luke lets out a bitter laugh, his eyes locking with yours, “I’m not trying to guilt trip you or anything, I just—” He pauses, a frown growing as he thinks of what to say, “I just want you to know that he wants the chance to fix things.”

“I don’t know how to fix things with Jack. He said some things… things that hurt more than I’d like to admit.”

Luke nods solemnly. “I know. And he’s probably not going to apologise the way you want him to. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. He just… he needs time.”

“Time,” you echo, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “That’s all anyone ever says. Give it time. But what if time isn’t enough?”

“It will be.” Luke’s voice is steady, unwavering. “Because we’re not giving up on you. None of us are. You mean too much to us to let this be the end.” Your heart aches at his words, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the walls you’ve built around yourself. You want to believe him. You want to believe that things can be fixed, that you can find your way back to the life you had before everything fell apart.

But the doubt still lingers.

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice trembling. “I’m scared that things won’t ever be the same again. That I’ve ruined everything.” Luke steps closer again, taking your hands in his.

“Nothing is ruined, I promise… just give me a chance to show you.” Luke’s brows furrow, his eyes pleading with you as his thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” You nod in response, not missing the way Luke’s face lights up, his body almost vibrating with excitement as a smile grows on your own face.

“Let’s go home.” Luke says, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering to life as you nod softly.

Quinn shoots up from his seat by the table, his laptop lighting up the almost dark room as the front door opens. “Luke?” He calls out - slowly making his way out of the dining room. Luke had left two days ago not being able to bear being left alone in the house any longer - the youngest brother infatuation with you stemming deeper then anyone had realised.

“Did you manage to talk to her? Is she okay?” Quinn calls out again, his frustration building as his younger brother ignores him.

Maybe she didn’t let him in?

Maybe he’s angry because she said she’s never coming back?

Quinn’s mind is running a million miles an hour as he steps into the entry way, his whole body freezing as he takes in the smaller then his brother’s figure in the hall, the suitcase by your side, your hair pulled back from your face as you shoot him a shy smile.

“Hi.”

Quinn stares at you, frozen in place as if you might vanish if he blinks too hard. His lips part slightly, but no words come out. Instead, his eyes flicker to the suitcase by your side, then back to you. It’s the longest few seconds of your life, his silence weighing heavily in the air between you.

“Hi,” you repeat softly, your voice tentative, uncertain. The sound seems to jolt Quinn out of his stupor. He steps forward, his brows knitting together, but not in anger. His expression is more cautious, concerned.

“You’re here?” he finally manages, his voice quiet, almost disbelieving. His eyes scan your face as if trying to convince himself that you’re real.

You nod, biting your lip. “I wasn’t sure if I should come.”

Quinn shakes his head slowly, his gaze softening. “I’m glad you did.” His voice is gentle, without any trace of the bitterness you had feared. He steps closer, his hands in his pockets. “We’ve been worried about you. All of us.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you look away. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I just… I needed space. Everything was falling apart, and I didn’t know how to fix it.”

Quinn nods slowly, his expression thoughtful. “I get that. Sometimes things get too heavy, and you need to step back. I’m not saying it didn’t hurt—it did—but I understand why you felt you had to go.”

Your chest tightens with emotion. “Thank you for saying that.”

“Jack’s upstairs,” Quinn says, tilting his head toward the stairs. “He’s been… well, he hasn’t been handling things great. But he’s missed you. A lot.”

You nod, wiping a tear from your cheek. “I need to see him.”

Quinn offers a small, reassuring smile. “Go ahead. He needs this as much as you do.” Taking a deep breath, you pick up your suitcase and head toward the stairs. Each step feels heavier than the last, your heart pounding in your chest. Memories flood your mind—of laughter, of late-night conversations, of the bond you once shared with Jack. And of the way things shattered.

When you reach the top of the stairs, you pause outside Jack’s door. The familiar sight sends a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you. You lift your hand to knock, but hesitate, your fingers trembling.

What if he doesn’t want to see me?

What if he slams the door in my face?

Summoning every ounce of courage you have, you knock softly.

For a long, agonising moment, there’s no response. Just when you’re about to turn away, the door creaks open.

Jack stands there, his hair disheveled, dark circles under his eyes. He looks tired, worn down, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

“Hey,” you say softly, your voice trembling. Jack’s eyes meet yours, and you see the storm of emotions swirling within them—anger, hurt, longing. But instead of lashing out, his expression softens almost immediately.

“Hey,” he replies, his voice rough from disuse. He steps aside, opening the door wider. “Ummm, do you want to come in?.” You nod as you step inside, your heart in your throat. The room feels suffocatingly familiar, the memories hanging in the air like ghosts. Jack closes the door behind you, leaning against it, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come back to be honest,” he says quietly.

“I wasn’t sure if I would,” you admit, your hands fidgeting nervously. “But Luke told me what been happening.” Jack lets out a long breath, his body rigid as the two of your stare at each other from across the room, his arms crossing over his chest as he nods slowly.

“So you came because he told you to?” Jack assumes, his excitement dropping a little.

“No, I came because I wanted to — because I care about you, Jack and neither of us deserves to hurt.” You explain, hesitating before continuing, “But the things you said, and the way you treated me, it wasn’t okay Jack and I need you to understand that if we are going to put this behind us.”

Jack lets out a long breath, his shoulders sagging. “I know, and I’ve thought about it a lot and I know now that this things I said to you were because I was feeling a little rejected.” He says softly, letting out a small chuckle as he adds, “And we all know I don’t do well with rejection.”

You blink, surprised by his words. “Jack…” He shakes his head.

“No, let me say this. I messed up. I was angry, hurt, and I said things I shouldn’t have. I pushed you away when I should have been pulling you closer. I thought I was protecting myself, but all I did was hurt you. And my brothers…” He lets out a long breath, “I haven’t made things easy for them either and I’m sorry that I never took the time to explain everything before we got to this point.” He notes, his arms finally falling from in front of his chest, one hand raising to push his growing hair away from his face.

Tears well up in your eyes again, and you take a shaky step closer. “I hurt you too. I didn’t mean to, but I did. And I’m so sorry for that.” Jack smiles but takes a step away from you, your hands retreating back to your chest as you look at him in surprise.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, “I can’t.” Your teeth catches your lip as you nod, Jack letting out a groan as he watches your chin tremble.

“You and Luke are perfect for each other.” Jack says quickly, a sad smile on his face, “You know he got you a lego flower bouquet cause he knows you’d prefer that to real flowers, he’s also has that polaroid you two took on the boat in his wallet for like five years now.” Jack explains, rocking back and forth on his heels as he runs his fingers through his hair again. “It’s just killing me that, that couldn’t be us because it was never meant to be us.”

Tears spill freely down your cheeks now, your heart twisting painfully at Jack's words. You open your mouth to say something—anything—but nothing comes out. The weight of his confession hangs between you both, raw and unfiltered.

Jack's gaze drops to the floor as he continues, his voice quieter now, laced with a bittersweet nostalgia. "I thought if I held on tight enough, maybe I could make it work. But it’s like holding sand, you know? The harder you grip, the faster it slips through your fingers."

You take a deep breath, wiping your cheeks with trembling hands. "Jack... I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted any of this to happen."

He looks up, his eyes glassy but steady. "I know you didn’t. And I’m not mad anymore. It took me a while to get here, but I understand now. You weren’t mine to keep. You never were." His words are a punch to the gut, but there's no malice in them—only acceptance and quiet resignation. You step forward again, closing the distance between you, and this time Jack doesn’t move away.

You reach out tentatively, your fingers brushing his arm. "You’ll always be important to me, Jack."

He nods, his lips pressing into a tight line to keep his emotions in check. "And you’ll always be important to me. I don’t regret loving you. I just regret holding on too long when I should’ve let go." The silence stretches between you, but it feels different now—softer, less suffocating. Finally, Jack breaks it with a shaky laugh.

"God, I sound like a bad country song, don’t I?"

A tearful chuckle escapes your lips, and you shake your head. "A little bit."

He grins, and for the first time, it feels real. "Maybe I should write one. Call it 'Wrong Time, Right Feelings' or something equally tragic." You laugh again, this time without tears, and Jack’s shoulders visibly relax. The tension in the room lifts ever so slightly, replaced by a shared understanding of what you both lost—and what you both still have.

Jack sighs, running a hand through his hair once more. "Luke’s downstairs, huh?"

“Probably,” you whisper. "He wanted to give us time to sort things out.”

Jack nods, his expression bittersweet. "Good. He deserves this. You both do." There’s a pause, and then Jack reaches out, pulling you into a hug. His arms wrap around you tightly, holding on just long enough to say goodbye without words. When he pulls back, there’s a glimmer of peace in his eyes.

"Take care of him," Jack says softly. "He never puts himself first, so I’m glad that he has someone who will.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, nodding. "I will."

Jack steps back, hands on his hips as he offers you one last smile—sad, but genuine. "Go on, then. Don’t keep him waiting."

You turn to leave, your hand lingering on the doorknob for a moment. Before you open it, you glance back at Jack. "You’ll be okay, right?"

He tilts his head, a ghost of his playful smirk returning. "I’m a Hughes. We’re made of tough stuff." As you step out of the room and close the door behind you, you hear the soft click of the lock. Jack’s way of closing the chapter.

You make your way down the stairs, each step lighter than the last. The weight that had been pressing on your chest for so long feels like it’s finally lifting. When you reach the bottom, you see Quinn leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with a cautious but hopeful expression.

Luke’s eyes flick between you and Quinn as you descend the stairs, your footsteps soft but purposeful. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, his shoulders tense with nervous energy. You can see it in the way he shifts his weight from one foot to the other—he’s bracing himself for something, though you’re not quite sure what.

Quinn leans casually against the wall, arms crossed, his expression carefully neutral. But there’s a knowing look in his eyes, like he’s already accepted whatever is about to happen. As you reach the bottom step, your gaze locks with Luke’s, and for a moment, the rest of the room fades away. It’s just the two of you—it always has been.

“How’d it go?” Quinn’s voice breaks the silence, his tone gentle, understanding. He’s giving you an out, a chance to speak first, but you don’t miss the way Luke stiffens at the sound of his brother’s voice.

“We’re okay,” you say softly, your words directed at Quinn, though your eyes never leave Luke. “Jack and I… we said what needed to be said.”

Quinn nods, offering a small, encouraging smile before stepping away from the wall. “Good. That’s good.” He glances at Luke, then back at you, his smile turning a little wry. “I’ll give you two some space.”

As Quinn walks away, heading toward the kitchen, Luke finally moves. He takes a hesitant step forward, his hands still buried in his pockets, his gaze flickering between the empty hallway where Quinn disappeared and your face.

“You don’t have to stay,” he blurts out suddenly, his voice tight with emotion. “If you… if you want to go after him, I get it.”

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

Luke swallows hard, his jaw clenching as he looks down at the floor. “Quinn,” he says quietly. “I saw the way he looked at you when you came down. I… I know he’s always been there for you. He’s steady, reliable. He’s Quinn.”

A pang of sadness twists in your chest as you watch him, this boy who’s always been so sure of himself suddenly unsure and vulnerable. You step closer, but he doesn’t look up.

“Luke…”

“It’s okay,” he says quickly, cutting you off. “I mean, I’m not gonna lie and say it wouldn’t hurt, but… I’d get it. He’s… he’s Quinn. And me?” He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I’m the guy who’s always a little too much. Too loud, too impulsive, too everything.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his voice. “Luke, stop.”

He finally looks up, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I don’t know how to be enough for you,” he whispers. “I’ve been trying for so long, but I keep thinking I’m just… not him. Not the guy you’d pick in the end.”

You step closer, your hands trembling slightly as you reach for his. He hesitates for a moment before letting you take them, his fingers curling around yours almost instinctively.

“You’ve always been enough,” you say softly, your voice steady despite the emotion bubbling beneath the surface. “It’s not about Quinn, or Jack, or anyone else. It’s about you. It’s always been about you.”

His grip tightens, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “But what if I mess it up? What if I’m not what you need?”

“You don’t have to be perfect, Luke. I don’t want perfect. I want you.”

He stares at you, searching your face for any sign of doubt. When he finds none, a shaky breath escapes him, his shoulders sagging with relief. “I was so sure you’d pick him,” he murmurs. “I thought I was about to lose you.”

“You’re not losing me,” you whisper, squeezing his hands. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Luke lets out a quiet, broken laugh, the sound filled with equal parts disbelief and joy. “I’ve been such an idiot.”

“No,” you say gently, reaching up to brush a tear from his cheek. “You’ve been scared. So have I. But we’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

He leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment as if grounding himself in the feel of your hand against his skin. When he opens them again, there’s a flicker of hope there, tentative but real.

“You mean it?” he asks quietly. “You’re staying?”

“I’m staying,” you confirm. “And we’ll figure it out together. No more second-guessing, no more running.”

Luke exhales a long breath, his lips curving into a small, grateful smile. “Okay. Together.”

“Together,” you repeat, your voice firm.

Quinn’s voice drifts from the kitchen. “Are you two done being gross, or should I stay in here forever?”

You both laugh, the sound light and carefree. Luke wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you turn toward the kitchen.

“Also I heard something about a lego set.” You murmur, Luke letting out a bark of laughter as he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“You can have any lego sets that you want.”

As you walk together toward the future—hand in hand, hearts finally in sync—you know that this is where you’re meant to be.

With Luke.

Always with Luke.

#nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl x reader #quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes #quinn hughes x reader #jack hughes x reader #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes smut #quinn hughes smut #jack hughes smut #mtbbw #quinn hughes fanfic #luke hughes fanfic #jack hughes fanfic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month ago

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Follow You Anywhere 14

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: this is like to be the second last chapter...

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

The captain’s breath seeps through your swimsuit bottoms. His shoulders curl as he kneels between your feet, hunched over your pelvis like a wolf at feast. A shiver invades your body, quaking out with a sob. He growls as his nose brushes along your thigh and he bites down on the end of the tie above your hip. He tugs until the fabric slackens.

You roll your eyes back and dig your nails into the blanket. He frees the other side of your bikini and the last of your defenses collapse. Your thighs tremble as he snarls and nuzzles along your soft flesh. He bites down and you cry out, writhing as you swat his head in surprise.

He catches your hand without pulling away. He forces it back to the mattress as he reaches for the other. He pins both, crushing your fingers as he teases your skin with teeth and tongue. You wriggle as his breath grazes along your lips, the sensitivity unfurling in your core. It’s too much already.

He growls again. An animal as he swirls his face in the spiral curls around your cunt. He inhales your scent and buries his nose in you, breathing you in ravenously. His tongue makes you squeak as he dips it between your folds and swipes over your clit.

You spasm and squeal. You’re not a prude. You might be reticent when it comes to other people but you’re not a stranger to your own body. Yet, you couldn’t predict how much more intense it is when it’s someone else touching you.

He flicks his tongue again and you whine. Your toes curl and your feet arch. You push your hips down as you try to close your legs. He keeps them wide as he lowers himself to his stomach. He clutches your hands tightly as he rocks his head and hums, lapping you up as he spreads his tongue to taste all of you.

His groans flutter into you, stirring in your stomach and speckling down your thighs. You quiver and your arms tense as you try to free yourself. He’s too strong. Too powerful. You know that already but you’re terrified.

He circles your clit with his lips and sucks. You cry out in surprise at the way the pressure coils your insides. He drones in delight as you shake and squeal.

Oh, please stop. Stop! Not just him, but you. Stop feeling.

Your knees press above his chest as he keeps them trapped at his sides. He guides your hands to the back of his head and holds them there. You stretch your fingers around his skull and whimper. Your hips tilts as his tongue glides between your lips. He angles along your entrance, poking and flicking as you squirm helplessly.

He pushes his nose against you, rubbing his face in your cunt as he smears your pleasure across his skin. It sickens you despite the thrill swelling in your guts. He purrs and once more tends to your clit, teasing it as you mewl and moan.

You squeeze your eyes shut as your body cocoons with unbearable heat. You whine through your teeth as your muscles wind tight and your heart pounds wildly. You buck as you cum. He feels it and drinks it up, toying with you until your begging him to stop.

Once more he drags his nose through your juices, his beard sopping up the mess as he slowly raises himself from between your legs. Your lashes part wetly. His face shines with your bliss as shame scalds your cheeks and chest. He brings your hands up by your head and holds them there as he hovers over you, puffing and panting like a beast.

“You taste like candy,” he snarls. You shudder and pout at him. Please, it’s enough, isn’t it? He can’t want more.

You’re wrong. Always wrong. He sits back on his heels once more and pulls you up by your arms. You sit dizzily as he puts your hands on the front of his shorts. You feel him bulging beneath. You snivel and peek up at him in a silent plea.

“I bet you like how I taste, too,” he grits.

You squeak and put your head down. You can’t resist. Your hands shake and he drags your fingers up to the button of his fly. You pinch it as he squeezes then reluctantly lets go. It won’t last forever. Not this part, anyway.

You unzip him and his stomach clenches as he groans. He grabs the back of your neck and you exclaim in surprise. You struggle to pull him through the open vee of the shorts as he thick length throbs. Precum stains along the camo fabric. You grip him and stare dumbly at his swollen head. What do you do now?

You don’t need to ask as he shoves your head down. You fold over as he grunts and forces your lips against his tip. You taste saltiness as you peel your mouth open and he invades without hesitation. His patience is gone. He’s no longer teasing, he’s demanding.

He urges you down until you go rigid. You barely repress a gag as he hits your reflex. You can’t breathe. He hooks his other hand under your chin and lifts you, your spit dripping down his veiny shaft. You inhale sharply before he pushes you onto him again.

You gulp and choke as he snarls and sighs. Your mouth makes revolting noises as your saliva leaks out and stains your face. He rams you up and down, up and down, groaning and grunting as he fucks himself with your mouth. You’re horrified at how his callousness builds with each vile thrust.

Your tears overflow at last. There’s not holding back. Not for either of you. They mingle with your drool and add to the sopping mess pooling on his shorts. You convulse and hold back a retch as he lifts himself on his knees and delves as deep as he can go.

“You’re so good, sweetie. So good for The Captain,” he eases you off of him.

You heave and choke, covering your mouth as it leaks. He brings you up to sit as your hand replaces his on your ragged throat. His eyes flare as he raises himself and shoves down his shorts to his knees. He’s quick, frantic, so much so that you’re completely surprised as he pushes you so you bounce onto the mattress.

He pulls your leg apart and once more inserts himself between your thighs. He plants an elbow by your head and props himself up as he reaches between your bodies. He strokes himself as he groans, rocking so that his tip rubs up against your folds. He shakes and bites his lip.

He presses his forehead to yours and growls. He flicks his dick up and down your cunt, prodding until he finds your entrance. You whimper and bring your hands to his arms, feeling his thick biceps. Your thumb presses against a thrumming veins as his eyes are swallowed by shadows.

“Please--”

He pushes into you and you wail. He’s too big. Or you’re too small. You don’t know which. All you know is that you can’t handle it. Your nails cut into his muscle as he leans into you and sighs. He sinks further and further, stretching your walls until you feel him in your stomach. You quaver and slap his side.

“Sy--” You murmur.

“Shhhh,” he pushes his nose next to yours and nuzzles your cheek. “You feel good, sweetie. Ain’t ya bein’ good for me?”

He lays his weight into you and flattens you to the mattress. You sob and snivel as your muscles contract and loosen. Your arms fall limb beside you, your legs splay weakly, and you let your neck give out. You meld into the mattress as he starts to pump his hips.

He brings a hand up to cradle your head. You weep silently, paralysed to his hunger, as he fucks you. He leans your head to the side as he pecks along your neck, his large shoulders curling. His other hand frames your hip as his lips drag over your shoulder.

He bites into you and your cries peak in horror. His teeth torture your flesh as he ruts harder and harder. He puffs through his nose as he devolves into a spasmodic fit, thrusting deeper and deeper. He bounces you with the bed, smothering you against it as his pelvis claps against yours.

He growls as his teeth break through your skin. You squeak and squeal until all that escapes you are pathetic babbles. His sweat skin and hair stick to you, repulsing you as the friction of your bodies turns sweltering.

He pulls his hand from under your hand and puts it flat. He lifts himself, his other hand still clamped around your hips. He bucks into you with long, punctuated thrusts as he watches the motion. You peek down and let out a fraught yawl. You see him fucking you, splitting you in two without mercy. It’s even more painful to see.

You drop your head down and it lolls. Every part of you aches from his conquering. Your joints, even your knuckles, throb, and your flesh stings each time he rams into you. You blink through your tears as you search for any sliver of hope or relief. There’s nothing.

He falls onto you again. He whines and twitches as his head hangs over your shoulder. He hugs your skill with his arm and quakes through his release. You feel it flood into you as he slows, his cum leaking out with each thrust.

You stare at the wall until he stops. Not completely. He stays on top of you, inside you. He goes limp over you as he pants out his adrenaline.

Your heart races as you feel his calming. He groans and turns his head, tickling you with his nose as he relaxes. He holds you like that until the air is stagnant. The sweat between your bodies turns clammy and the trickle from your cunt grows sticky.

Your eyes cling to a shape on the table. The large handle of the knife with the finger indents. The blade gleams through your tears. You stare, not daring to move as that thought needles in you.

He groans again and snakes his arm around your middle. He hugs you as he burrows his face in your neck. You glance down at his head. Cautiously, you bring your hand up to touch the fuzz along his scalp. He sighs in content.

You pet his head, as if he’s a dog, as if you’re trying to soothe him, keep him placid. Your other arm moves, little by little. You stop and wait after each inch, wary of giving yourself away.

You shouldn’t. You’re stupid. It’s dangerous. No, this man is dangerous and he’s only going to do that again and again.

Your hand floats over the knife. You grip it, squeezing it. You lift the weight bit by bit. You raise your arm as you continue to stroke his crown. You stare at his taught flesh, ridges with muscle, and wonder if you can do it.

Do it!

You swing your arm down and the blade sinks into the meat of his shoulder. He roars and retracts as you let go of the knife. He sits up in agony as he tries to reach the handle jutting out of him.

You don’t think, you just move. You jump up from the bed and scramble for the door. His pained growls and grunts continue behind you as the bed creaks under his weight. You hit the wall and continue down the hall.

You don’t have time to stop and clear your head. Your legs are like jelly but you have to keep going. You rush to the counter and grab the flannel shirt. You hug it under your arm and barrel down the hall. You hit the front door, bursting through, and stomp across the porch.

As you get to ground, a shadow whips through the dark, and you see Aika sprinting at you on all fours. Another starling roar comes from the house and she stops just before she gets to you. You stop and face her, chest thumping, pulse throbbing. Please...

Sy hollers again. She sniffs the air in front of you then skitters up to the porch, toward the anguished cries of her owner. You don’t wait any longer. You dash off towards the trees.

This is it. Your chance. Your one moment to get away. You just have to keep going. You can’t stop. Run!

You push through the brush, the flannel tight in your hand as you pump your arms. Thorns cut into your legs and arms, sticks jab at the soles of your feet, and stones scatter around your steps. You slip in patches of mud and hiss at the sharp weeds hidden between the roots.

Go. Go. Go.

Don’t stop until you see light.

Don't stop until you’re free.

#follow you anywhere #captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #sand castle

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deesseshesca · 3 months ago

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PAC : What opportunities are right in my face, but I’m totally sleeping on?

Give me more... Give me more ... Give me more !

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PILE 1

What opportunities are right in my face, but I’m totally sleeping on?

Here’s the thing, bestie: the opportunity waiting for you is all about inner peace and finally finding clarity in your own company. Right now, I know you're feeling that urge to plot and plan, to get that revenge or set things right. But the path you're on? It’s actually nudging you towards something way more powerful—learning how to step back, get quiet, and let answers come to you.

This is your moment to dive into your own intuition, to start trusting what you already know deep down. The opportunity here isn’t about controlling the situation or making someone see things your way. It’s about seeing yourself more clearly and realizing that all the wisdom and strength you need are already within you. Letting life bring you the next step will be way more satisfying than revenge. The quiet confidence you'll gain by following your own instincts? That’ll be worth so much more in the long run.

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PILE 2

What opportunities are right in my face, but I’m totally sleeping on?

Alright, let’s get real. The opportunity in front of you is a chance to rebuild your foundation, not just in a "getting things together" way, but in a way that really lets you break out of some old, tough cycles. You’re dealing with a lot—and without a strong support system, that’s so heavy. But this opportunity? It’s about creating stability and peace within yourself. It’s like an open door to a life that’s more grounded, one where you don’t feel the need to numb out or escape.

This isn't going to come from forcing or grinding through. This is about tapping into that softer, nurturing energy within you—the part of you that craves peace and feels things deeply. This feminine energy wants you to honor your intuition and trust your own healing instincts. It’s about taking baby steps that feel right, not just seem logical. Slowly but surely, you’ll be building a life that feels like home, with you as your own biggest supporter. You're creating a path out of

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What opportunities are right in my face, but I’m totally sleeping on?

Alright, here’s the vibe: the opportunity in front of you is about stepping fully into your independence and treating yourself like the true royalty you are. This isn’t about waiting for anyone else’s approval or permission—it’s all about you leveling up, creating your own version of success, and living a life that feels luxurious for you.

You’re in a prime spot to really focus on building something solid for yourself. This is the kind of opportunity that lets you pour into your own life, invest in your growth, and maybe even indulge a little in what makes you feel happy and whole. Think of it as creating a life where you’re not just surviving but genuinely thriving. You deserve to feel abundant, stable, and worthy of every good thing. Embrace that energy, treat yourself well, and watch how everything else starts to line up.

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mono-blogs-art · 5 months ago

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Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko - The Lesbian Office RomCom You Needed

Blatant flirting, hilarious misunderstandings, and lesbian shenanigans aplenty - this show is funny, over-dramatic, and most of all gay as hell. Here's my review! Spoiler-free version first, and a more detailed spoiler-y version under the cut. I hope you enjoy!

A quick summary: Overall: 9/10, you should absolutely watch this! Genre: RomCom, with some serious elements and a heartfelt exploration of sexuality Watch if you are looking for... : A silly and fun time, a happy ending, misunderstandings, and character development. Highly recommended to watch this with your partner(s) or your sapphic friends! Watch out for... : Although the tone of the show is mostly comedic, it contains discussion & depiction of homophobia at the workplace and past trauma relating to that Where to watch: Official TL on GagaOOLala, or Fansubs by @furritsubs (highly recommended!)

"Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko" (Ayaka-chan wa Hiroko-senpai ni Koishiteru) is a Jdrama adaption of a manga by the same title. The series premiered this year July 2024 and has wrapped up a short while ago, with a total runtime of 8 episodes of 24 minutes each.

The title of the show already says all; the plot is simple: Junior staff member Ayaka is head-over-heels for Hiroko, her senior at the company she works at. And she has decided to go on the offensive.

There are many obstacles in Ayaka's way: first of all, Hiroko is 13 years older than her (they are 23 and 36), and her superior at the workplace. Hiroko is beloved by both her superiors as well as her staff, so Ayaka's love for her is just one of many. And no matter how blatantly she ups her advances (and girl, she is BOLD), Hiroko is 100% convinced that all the flirting is just misplaced, straight-woman obliviousness.

The irony of it all is that Ayaka is absolutely barking up the right tree, because Hiroko is a lesbian, but has been firmly in the closet at work - something that she has no plans on changing. Her professional life and her personal must stay completely separate, at all cost. The only place she can truly be herself is the lesbian bar she's been a regular at for years.

^ Me when I'm a lesbian disaster doing insane mental gymnastics

However, "giving up" is not in Ayaka's vocabulary. As her seduction attempts keep escalating and being misunderstood, Hiroko's hard exterior begins to crumble bit by bit. Can Hiroko finally overcome her rigid ways, and let herself fall for someone?

Although the show is first and foremost a comedy, both Ayaka and Hiroko as characters are handled really well. They have their own problems, insecurities, reservations about the other, and both have a simple but great arc over the course of the series. Ayaka is discovering her sexuality, something she had never even considered before falling for Hiroko. What does being in love with a woman mean for her future? And Hiroko, who is already very confident in her sexuality, is confronted by her past trauma, and the fact that she's still not ready to come out despite the changing times. And while being undercover has saved her career in the past, it has also made her feel alone and isolated. She likes Ayaka back, but can't allow her true colors to show.

Something that I find very hard to achieve with comedy shows is the switch between funny and serious, and I think that Ayahiro manages this very well. Both of our main characters feel grounded enough in reality that when they get emotional, it feels relatable and sincere. For a silly show like this, striking a balance like that is crucial, and save for a few pacing issues in the later half of the show (that I honestly didn't mind at all), I think the show totally nails it. Ayahiro is not a realistic show, but it contains elements of reality that made me connect to it, despite all the insane shenanigans that go on. And because of that the show made me laugh and cry as much as it did, often in the same episode. It works, and Kudos to the writers (and actors!) for that.

Speaking of actors, one thing I must mention is that the show is very well made. The actors (especially Mori Kanna as Hiroko is the standout for me, she has a natural charisma and gay swagger) do a fantastic job, the leads' chemistry is great. The production overall has some real money behind it, with lots of changing sets that all look great and have been crafted with care. Ayaka's outfits are absolute KILLER, she is giving insane femme energy. The show also looks very pretty, the color graders turn that saturation up to 100 and it fits Ayaka's rose-tinted world well.

That's it for the spoiler-less part, I'll now get into specific characters and plot points with full spoilers up to the end of the series under the cut. If you don't want to get spoiled, I hope the review until now made you want to watch the show for yourself! I hope you enjoy!

First of all I need to disclaim that I have not read the original manga that she show is based on, so I can't compare the series to its original and how the plot is written there. I do intend to read it (I hope it gets localized to German so I can support the official release, but I might check out the English Official TL anyway before that) but for now, I will only judge the series as is.

Ayaka: Our protagonist is a femme fatale, in... another meaning of the word, I guess. She is a disaster, bad at pretty much everything she does except not giving up. Once she has set her mind to something, she will get it done. That leads her to often be inconsiderate and unable to see what others around her are feeling, which goes mostly for her best friend Risa, but also for Hiroko, whose feelings she also fails to consider even when pursuing her. Ayaka has to learn the hard way that her naivete is hurting others, and herself. She hasn't really thought her advances through, simply acting on instinct. But as the series goes on, she takes her feelings and her newly discovered sexuality seriously, and grows comfortable with calling herself a lesbian. She is also unashamedly horny, like, Oh My God, this girl is trying to get laid so bad. This is hilarious and refreshing to see, and although her seduction attempts are often played as comedic, it doesn't feel like she is being ridiculed for her sexuality by the show. Ayaka often crosses boundaries (physical and emotional) with Hiroko, both out of naivite and in deliberate attempts to seduce her. To me this was never truly infuriating, even though sometimes she really did go too far, but for me it always kept in tone with the comedy of the show. Even when Ayaka finally comes out in front of the entire office, she makes it clear that she doesn't want Hiroko to do the same if she's not ready.

Hiroko: Our deuteragonist is probably my favourite character in the show, and I think she's very relatable and well done. As an older lesbian, she's got plenty of experience, having even earned the title of "The Ace" in her lesbian friend circle for being a talented womanizer. But a traumatic experience of losing her last partner due to being found out at the workplace has changed her. She's afraid to get attached, she's unable to let people get close to her true self. So when Ayaka is fighting tooth and nail to get to her, Hiroko is caught in conflict between her feelings of attraction and her past trauma. She does everything in her power to dismiss Ayaka's advances to protect herself, and later when she learns that Ayaka is in fact not straight (duh), she still turns her down to protect Ayaka's (and her own) career. Hiroko is a bit of a conservative - something she's also called out for in her lesbian friend circle - she believes that coming out at work is impossible and irresponsible. And you know, I get it. Not only does she have personal bad experiences with exactly that, it's also not unreasonable to think it would be a bad idea to hook up with your junior of 13 years. Like, I get it girl. Hiroko is clearly attracted to Ayaka, not just physically but also emotionally, because Ayaka is everything Hiroko wants to be but can't. And that leads to Hiroko constantly underestimating Ayaka, even treating her like a child. She thinks Ayaka is not really thinking the gravity of her actions through, and she gets called out for that and has to overcome it. In the end, Hiroko ends up being a character that needs time, and needs to unlearn a whole bunch of shitty behaviour, something the show clearly also shows is being worked on and that Ayaka also respects (more on that later).

Risa: Easily the character I struggled with the most, Ayaka's best friend Risa is complicated. She's very observant but also shy, and secretly harbors a crush on Ayaka. Quietly struggling with her sexuality, she only decides to come out when she realises that Ayaka's feelings for Hiroko are serious. Oh, it's messy! She confesses to Ayaka, who in turn has to struggle with her feelings for someone else, but also not wanting to lose her closest confidant. And to her credit, Risa takes the rejection quite gracefully and continues to support Ayaka in her pursuit of Hiroko. However, Risa also outs Hiroko against her will to Ayaka, which... is just a shitty thing to do, even though she just wanted to help her friend. Good motive, still murder. After the conflict between Ayaka and Risa is resolved, Risa just kind of... is around, quietly worrying in her corner and kind of (in my opinion) overstepping her boundaries with Hiroko. I don't dislike Risa, but I thought her character was not done super well in parts, and although I understand the complicated situation she herself is in, the show doesn't really let her grow as much as the other characters. Anyway, good for her for bagging the hottest chick at the lesbian bar, though. Good for her!

The "break-up": The story's conflict comes to a peak when Hiroko finally realises there is only one way to shut this all down. She needs to fulfill Ayaka's desire, and then turn her down, once and for all. But Hiroko at this point still thinks Ayaka is immature and hasn't really thought her actions through. Ayaka sheepishly asks for a kiss, so Hiroko kisses her. "Now you've achieved everything you wanted." We're done, you can give up on me and this childish crush you have on me. And most importantly, I can let you go, too. Not realising that Ayaka wants much more. She wants a real relationship, she wants the kiss, sex, real emotions, she wants to see Hiroko's true self too. She wants a partnership.

The Finale: With the encouragement of her peers, Ayaka finds the courage to express her feelings to Hiroko one last time. And she finds just the right words to finally get through to her. Hiroko realises how much of an ass she's been all this time, how she ended up hurting the girl she loves and herself by denying herself happiness. This whole scene was so well done (Kudos to Kato Shiho as Ayaka, this is probably her best scene in the entire show), brother I cried so hard. And finally Hiroko can say what she should have a long time ago: "I'm sorry."

One year later: In the show's worst case of bad pacing, we immediately cut from their tearful reunion to "one year later", lol. I don't mind the sudden jump too much, but maybe a bit of a slower fade-out would have softened the blow, because I think a few people probably found this very jarring xD not too bad for me. I was actually positively surprised that we actually get to see the aftermath, see how their relationship has developed a year into it.

I've seen a few people complain about this "no-sex scene" (lol) and I just want to add my two cents. I actually really like how this scene played out, for two reasons. Reason 1 is that it's just very much in-character for Hiroko. We've seen her struggle back-and-forth with the intimacy Ayaka wanted from her for the past 7.5 episodes, and her own internalised homophobia and constant fear of "crossing the line". She's a traumatized person, and it makes total sense to me that even one year into the relationship, she's still struggling with sexual intimacy. Sure, a whole year is a long time not having sex with your partner (even though you both clearly wanted to from day 1) but like... it makes sense for Hiroko. She's still working through the past 10+ years of repression. I do understand how this scene can be interpreted as "the show is afraid to show them being horny and sexy together, they're cowards for making Hiroko so obsessed with Ayaka's "purity" etc" and like, yes, that is a totally valid interpretation, but IMO also a quite bad faith one.

"I'm happy to know you feel that way. Which is why, could you please wait a little more, just until I sort my feelings out?" "What?" "I want to cherish you, Ayaka." "Right." "I'm sorry for everything, Ayaka." "For everything?" "In the end, it seems like I still haven't came out yet. I understand that I'm making you endure something when you don't have to. But… I do want to be with you, and I want to keep my job. I'm really sorry for making you put up with my selfishness."

^ Like, that is the conversation that follows. It's not just about sex for Hiroko, that kind of intimacy holds a deeper meaning to her and she's just not ready for it yet, and trying to sincerely tell her partner that. And when Ayaka reaffirms her willingness to be patient in this scene and is respectful of Hiroko's choice, Hiroko realizes that she's being a stupid coward, and finally makes a decision...

... to come out in front of the whole office, who's been gossiping about their relationship the whole year anyway.

And that is the end of the show!

So really, Hiroko did manage to overcome her fears in the end, and it took her a whole year into a healthy relationship to do so. And I think that is honestly much more realistic than some people would like to believe. Is the smooch in front of the whole office silly and cheesy and over-dramatic? Of course, but that's the entire show so far. And if you think that kiss-and-dip is dumb then I can't help you, I think you just don't like fun.

Oh yeah, and my reason 2 why I thought that no-sex scene was done well is because it's just funny. Ayaka has been DTF since minute 1 of the show, and her still being unable to get it this far into it is just funny. I would have loved a little nod to them finally getting down at the very, very end, but eh, I can live with it like this. They've conquered the emotional hurdles, I'm certain they will cross that other bridge when they get there on their own time.

Conclusion: "Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko" is a great and incredibly funny lesbian show that touched me emotionally much more than I thought it would. It made me cry several times, the production and acting quality positively surprised me, and honestly deserves my Nr 2 spot of favourite Lesbian JDrama after Tsukutabe (which is a 10/10 show) for now. I really hope this type of show gets imitators, adapting relatively short stories into mini-series with great quality. I appreciate the more adult tone of this series, its shameless comedy while still being able to hit serious beats with real emotion. From what I've seen of the BTS, the actors and staff also handled the subject matter with respect and care and had a lot of fun making the show. I don't think a season 2 is needed, but I do hope that the series can inspire more similar works. I love Ayaka and Hiroko, and I'm so happy they got their happy ending, and by God, I hope they have the best sex ever in their beautiful lesbian future. God bless.

That's it from me, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this show as much as I did! Hopefully see you soon!

#ayaka is in love with hiroko #jdrama #review #mono-loguing #ayaka chan wa hiroko senpai ni koishiteru #ayahiro

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dragonslaved · 3 months ago

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All right, besties. I had my days of depression and (bad) ideations, I had my flare of anger. It's easy to fall into despair, but let's focus that energy to thinking further ahead. Firstly: by focusing on our health and eating.

You've probably noticed in the last few months, a lot of food recalls from the FDA. The majority of these, particularly the most recent ones around heavily processed chicken in ready-meals and beef in fast food restaurants, are a direct result of the 45th president cutting back health regulations in industrialized food production four to six years ago that we're just now seeing the results of as it's gone through the process and finally hit shelves.

Now would be a good time to start looking into your local farmer's markets and sourcing your meats and produce from locally owned farms you trust. Start developing a good relationship with your local farmers and butchers. When you go to see them, just get to know them and ask some general questions.

A lot of these places are family run, particularly if you're not close to a large metropolitan area. So when you go to see these folks and they make small talk (because they will, they want to know what brought you out, how'd you find their farm, what kinds of meats and cuts and whatever you're looking for, just genuine small talk), do not bring up politics or USDA regulations. Literally just tell them that you're interested in sourcing and supporting local agriculture and farming (which is true, you are wanting to get away from big corporate industrialized meat production).

If your area has a good farmer's market during the spring/summer/fall, absolutely hit that up. The one close by me not only has good meats and produce, but also honey, different kinds of cheeses, all sorts of things. Farmer's markets closer to a city or metropolitan area will usually only be on weekends during the warmer seasons so keep an eye out and check out any options you have.

I'll give a starting resource for you: https://www.localharvest.org/locations/

Any local farms or farmer's markets that are registered there in the mainland US will have some listings there with hours of operation, location and what they produce, as well as if they're a farm, a farmer's market, a grocery, or a local restaurant, as well as reviews. Use that and source further and find other farms that aren't registered on that site that may have more of what you're looking for. The farming community talk to each other and they know what's up with the other farms.

If you want to go out and pick your own produce (berries, fruits, etc), there's https://upickfarmlocator.com/ that will show you any "u-pick" farms and orchards in your area. It's a pretty in depth resource that I'd recommend using if you're able to go out and do that.

There are a few urban harvesting resources like fallingfruit, but I'm not as familiar with that so I can't in good faith recommend it until I've done some research into it myself.

I'm mostly familiar with chicken farms and fish ponds so I can't provide much insight to cattle or game meat, unfortunately. If anyone who sees this post is familiar, please feel free to add on. I'm also not a source for how to skin your meat or pluck your birds, so again, if anyone seeing this has any insight, please please add on to this.

Let's keep each other healthy and strong so we can fight the good fight ahead of us. The biggest advice I can give to anyone starting this journey is to research. Research anything you're interested in and don't give up.

I'll update this post with any other resources I find, or that others add on. This post is recent as of 2024-11-08.

(And yes, I know, before anyone comes rushing in, I understand this is not as easy for larger metropolitan areas or food deserts. Yes I know not everyone has the ability to go out and do this, and not everyone has easy transportation to haul goods back. This is where the "community" part comes if you can coordinate a group renting a car or someone who does drive to get everyone out there and back. And yes, before other folks come in, I understand sometimes it's better to grow your own produce and raise your own livestock, this is for the folks who don't have the ability to whether that's because of physical disabilities, lack of space [Hi, I live in a condo and have no space to grow my own in fact], or any other reason why they can't.)

#food #resources

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rinhaler · 1 year ago

Note

I know you have a bunch of requests even if your requests are closed BUT BUTTTTT what about playing fighting with plug! sukuna, i love him and he's evil i just knoww it would lead into super hot sex

if you are ever willing to elaborate i would love to read it, but don't feel pressure and take your time, thank you🥺

ohhhhhh i really got carried away ive missed his toxic ass i love plug!sukuna so much and he loves US 🥹

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, cheating, manhandling, size difference, biting, slight pining, ass eating (fem!receiving), spanking, degradation, fingering, vaginal sex, pet names (princess, sweetheart), calls your pussy 'she/her', pull out method, slight cock-sucking, hair pulling, he slaps u 🫶🏽

words: 1.4k

Sukuna lives to torment you.

It’s the only thing that makes any semblance of sense when he emerges from his own bedroom to skulk into the living room. You’re watching YouTube videos in there while you wait for Yuuji to come home from work. It’s not like you’ve really been watching them, it’s more background noise while you play on your phone.

It’s a little odd how the videos are auto-playing reviews of different movies you’ve watched recently.

You jump when you feel his presence behind you. A disgusting, burly clearing of his throat as he reaches over you enough for you to feel skin to skin contact and snatch the remote. He jumps over the back of the couch, legs spreading wide as he backs out of the video you had playing.

“I was watching that.” you tell him.

“No, you weren’t.” he objects. “You’re on your phone.”

“I’m multi-tasking.” you lean closer to him to take the remote back, but you’re left at a loss for words as he holds it out of your reach. “Give it to me.”

“No.” he smirks. “You just sit there and carry on playing…” he squints his eyes as he peers over at your phone to see what’s on the screen, laughing immediately after. “Project Makeover? Really?”

You lunge across couch in a bid to grab the remote from him again, having no interest in listening to whatever he considers entertainment while you’re waiting patiently for Yuuji. He retaliates when you get a little too close for comfort.

A yelp escapes as he grabs your waist, moving you with ease until you’re sat on the sofa properly again. His cheek touches yours as he whispers in your ear.

“Enough.”

Your brows furrow and you attack again, a little surprised to see him throw the remote across the room once he picks a channel to watch. You try to run after it, but he quickly brings you onto his lap, holding your wrists in the small of his back as he looks up at you.

“I said, enough. Are you going to behave?” he asks, and you nod.

He lets go, but he knew there was a defiant expression in your eyes as you nodded. You leap up from his lap and attempt to run over to the remote, only to hear him hot on your heels. You bend over to grab it, laughing when you’re thwarted as he grabs your wrist.

“Sukuna,” you laugh loudly as you try to wriggle free from his grip. “Go in your own room and watch your shit.”

“I wanna watch it in here.” he tells, grabbing your other wrist when you try to pry his fingers away. He smiles as he watches you struggle to gain freedom, doing nothing more than moving your arms back and forth in hopes that he’ll free you. “Why don’t you go to Yuuji’s room?”

“I was here first!” you remind him, “And I’m waiting for him to come home.”

You continue to fight him, spinning around until your wrists slip from his palms. He watches you scramble towards the remote once again, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you back towards the centre of the room.

“Stop it or I’m gonna make you scream.” he warns you.

“You’re so full of yourself. I’m not fucking y— aah!” you scream as his fingers tickle into your sides. He didn’t realise how well it would actually work, but you’re shrieking like you’re being murdered.

He lets up when he worries about the neighbours reporting the attempt on your life to the police, still poking and prodding at your hips until you’re a giggling mess. His breath is heavy on your neck as you kick back at him and writhe against his hold.

You hunch over when your stomach begins to hurt, and his body grows tired of fighting you, too. Your strength weakens until you’re both kneeling on the ground with him behind you.

Immediately your lips are on his as you look over your shoulder. You moan into his mouth as he gropes your chest.

“Fuck.” you sigh, breathily, before he shoves you onto all fours, kissing along the column of your spine. You gasp as his fingers hook into your beach shorts, slowly peeling them down to reveal your bare cunt, glittery and pulsating with a desperation to be filled.

“Thought you weren’t gonna fuck me?” he growls, teeth nipping against your ass as he bites softly before he licks over the shallow indentations. You inhale sharply as he kisses further and further towards your ass. You know what he’s about to do and you don’t want him to. He’s such a fucking tease. You’ve never done this with anyone before, but he wraps his arm around your waist to keep you still as his tongue licks over your ass.

He truly lives to torment you.

“Squirming for me, pretending you don’t like it,” he mutters, continuing to swipe over your puckered hole. He surprises you with the occasional attentiveness of a kiss against it, almost like he’s forgetting who you belong to. “Dirty girl.”

You don’t care enough to cover your mouth, knowing Sukuna would pin your arms in place regardless. He likes to hear you. He loves to run the risk of you getting caught. The thought of Yuuji wandering in and seeing him play with his girlfriend is enough to make his cock ache. But it’s very possible, now.

Your eyes roll over white as he slips two fingers into your squelching cunt, still laving over your ass until your body convulses.

“Did you just fucking cum?” he teases you, spanking your ass and smearing your slick all over your cheek. “You really are a nasty little slut, aren’t you? Just for me, though.”

“S-Shut up and fuck me already.” you tell him. You yelp when he slaps your ass once again, but he doesn’t respond. He knows all he needs to do to shut you up is fill you with his length.

You wince as his thick length splits you open, and he moans almost pathetically at the sight of your soft pussy lips swallowing him up.

“I love this cunt, princess.” he reminds you. He presses the side of your face against the floor roughly to keep you in place. You see him out of the corner of your eye, sweating and panting like a wild animal. “Does Yuuji even make you cum anymore? Trained her to be perfect for me.”

“H-He makes me c-um.” you argue. “I l-love him!”

“Uh-huh.” he snarls, fucking you with more fervour than before. “Sweetheart… you can’t love him that much if you’re on my cock again.”

“Shut up,” you bite back, reaching behind you to slap him or punch him or something. But you know him well enough, now. Your arm is pressed firmly into the small of your back, used for more leverage as her fucking ruins you. “There! Su-Sukuna, right there!” you cry.

“Unnfff—” he growls, his hips bruising against your thighs. “Can I cum inside?” he asks, tone a little softer he asks. There’s a level of desperation that’s almost pathetic in it, but you don’t notice. Not when you’re already choking his cock.

“N-No!” you warn him.

It’s almost too late, he begins to spurt inside but pulls out quick enough to shoot sticky globs of white directly on your pussy lips. You shudder as the warm load hits you, hole body twitching and clenching as you desperately long to be filled with his cock and his seed.

“W-Wait!” you object as he pulls up your shorts. The material clings to your body as the cum melds into the fibres. “Ew…” you sigh.

He pulls you up by your wrist onto your knees, roughly tugging your jaw until your mouth widens for him.

“Clean my cock off, bitch.” he commands you. Red eyes leer at you as you do as you’re told. You suck and spit over his cock as you clean up the mess your pussy made of him. The slurping is obscene. It’s nearly enough to resurrect his softening length.

His mouth opens to speak, eyes looking down at you gently. He must see the same look in your eye, clearing his throat before his look becomes stern once again. He yanks you away from his cock by your hair, pulling at the roots before slapping you across the face.

“Clean yourself up.” he scowls, looking over his shoulder as he hears the front door open. He smirks, tucking himself back in his sweats before leaving the scene. “Until next time, princess.”

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remember-to-be-gentle · 1 year ago

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Inspired by this tumblr post by @hawnks

Subject: JJK, Satoru Gojo

Title: Hate Me Tomorrow (Omega!Gojo x GN Alpha!Reader)

Trigger Warning: Dub con, omega verse, scenting, size difference, biting/marking, obsessive/toxic behavior, self-hatred, knotting, knot riding, begging, heat/mating cycles, grinding

The sweet, musky scent of Gojo's cologne and sweat enveloped you. Even the giant stuffed beta fish you were snuggling had no scent but his. His pillow fort was surprisingly spacious, granted, Gojo was nearly twice your size so there was a lot of him to fit. But being in here with him was nearly suffocating, and not just because of the light whiffs of omega scent rolling off of him or because he'd practically ripped off your jacket to snuggle into.

He'd called you suddenly, saying that he needed to spend time with someone. It made sense. Geto just died and there were only so many people who were willing to pick up the phone for Gojo, and even fewer he'd actually call. Especially when it was a secret he was an omega, pretending to be an alpha and you were an alpha pretending to be a beta.

The two of you were decent friends, hanging out after teaching at Jujutsu Tech for a drink or a quick round of gossip. He was one of the few people who knew you were an alpha and he an omega, an unusual kinship formed but it was never anything more. More importantly, you knew about his relationship with Geto. You couldn't say no.

Which was why your thigh was snug against his, smartphone balanced on your knee, his favorite plushie shoved into your arms. His head on your shoulder breathes fast but not uneven. It seemed like he was trying not to cry. Poor guy. The winter fashion review didn't seem to be helping him calm down at all. Nor any work gossip. You wanted to stay and help, but it was getting late. If he really wanted to, he could just pin you down, sometimes that thought scared you.

Gojo curled onto his side, struggling closer to you, your jacket wrapped in his hands like a security blanket.

It felt wrong to leave, but you needed to take care of yourself, too. "Hey, bud, I need to get going. Are you going to be alright by yourself?"

Gojo buried his face in your neck, silent. He leaned his weight into you, just enough to make it clear he didn't want to be alone.

Fuck. "I'm sorry. I'll come first thing tomorrow. We'll call out from work and go to the city or--"

His teeth scraped your neck. Possessive, dominant. Alpha behavior. Before you knew what was happening, he was ripping off your scent suppressor, inhaling like he hadn't been breathing for hours. Alpha pheromones leaked from your skin, invading your nose. "Gojo?"

Your stomach turned as your instincts awakened, the need to comfort an omega struggling with your own needs for autonomy. Your fingers dug into the beta fish plushie, filled with his scent.

He reached for his own scent blocker and you suddenly realized what was going on. With his neck practically right under your nose, his omega scent was free. And not just that, he was going into heat. The pillow fort was a nest and this was a trap. Gojo was primed to breed and he was going to use you to fuck away his pain. "This isn't healthy, Gojo, listen to me!"

But his patch was already off and the omega scent of him in your lungs, filling you, lighting every nerve on fire. Your cock swelled under your clothes, reacting to his breedable scent with vigor.

Gently, Gojo took the plush and pushed you onto your back, yanking off his pants as his pale face filled with color. His bandages were already slipping, the iridescent shine of his six eyes laser-focused on the swelling at your crotch. He crawled on top of you, already tugging off his shirt. "Just for today, please." He panted, his thin but muscular chest heaving as if just sitting here breathing was a near-impossible task.

His weight lowered onto your cock and you gasped, feeling his wetness through your clothes. His heat was so pleasant, feverish but warm, empty, and yearning. Blood pulsed lower and you gulped.

Slowly, Gojo rocked back and forth, moaning loudly each time your shaft met his clit. His back arched, nipples swollen and pink, and standing at attention. "Please," he begged. "Just me just for tonight. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please, ah, Y/N. Please, I wanna cum. Let me have it inside me."

It was getting harder and harder to think straight. He felt so good, the need to fill him up, let him fuck himself stupid on your cock growing. It would be better if you let him, a voice whispered. Another said, it's what you were made for. Just let him.

"Gojo," you gasped. You reached for him, tried to make him stop so you could think, but his fingers intertwined with yours and he was moving faster now, his breathy moans coming faster. His skin was so soft and warm, filling you with his heat until you thought you might burst. Blood pulsed in your cock, his pussy was sucking at you through your clothing. He wanted you so badly. You wanted... What did you want to do again? You had to leave but why?

"Y/N, I'm cumming." His hips rocked faster, tummy rolling with downy white hair covered in sparkling slick. "I'm cumming on your alpha cock." He let go of your hands to lay across your stomach, his head buried in your neck to take in your scent, his own making your head spin as pleasure threatened to burst out of your cock. His teeth met your skin, nibbling and biting gently then hard enough to bruise until he let out a long, throaty groan as he came.��

Instantly, your clothes were soaked, his hot slick smothered on your member. If you weren't fully erect before, you were now.

Still panting, Gojo lifted himself up just enough to tug your cock free from your clothing. He didn't wait, spreading his pussy with his fingers as he sank down on your tip. Slick gushed down your shaft as he cried out, swallowing your swollen head into his heat. You bit back a groan, fingers digging into the blankets making up the fort.

"You feel so big," Gojo moaned. "So good. I've only done this with Geto, so I'm going to have to start slow." He sank a little further, impossibly tight and hot and wet. "Feels so good," he huffed, rolling his hips and finally, sinking all the way down your shaft.

Your knot throbbed, seeming to sense that an omega was speared on your length.

Gojo humped himself on your cock, needy moans slipping from his mouth each time his hips met yours. "Feels so good, Y/N. I've only felt Geto like this before."

Before you could respond he pulled back to his full height, six eyes glowing in the warm darkness of the pillow fort. He spread his lower lips as he lifted himself up, clear slick drooling from his hole. His pretty, pink, clit a shining pearl at the apex of his thighs. "You did this to me. Look how wet you made me." Slowly, Gojo slid back down, pushing the head of your cock against his cervix. Again, he kept himself exposed and rose up, only to slurp your length right back down to the knot, aiming this time higher, into something spongy and mouth-wateringly soft.

"G-Gojo, I know you miss him but you can't--"

He raised himself up and dropped down, knocking a groan from you both. "I think about him a lot," Gojo panted. "About how empty he left me. In my soul. In my body. So please, let me fix one of those. Just for now. It's okay if you hate me, but I need you now more than I've needed anyone."

Gojo whined, flushed and excited. "Right there." He slammed back down on you with a stomach-churning squelch right into that soft sweet spot. "So good." He was riding you now, using you like a dildo to get himself off, his delicate fingers rolling his clit in circles. You couldn't take your eyes off him. "I want you to cum inside me, okay? Fill me up with your seed. Help me feel less empty."

Pleasure gathered deep inside you, begging to come out as your knot swelled. Shit. You shouldn't. He was your coworker, your friend. But omegas needed alpha seed, he needed reprieve from his heat and you were the only one he could call--because the person he really wanted was dead.

That thought shattered your high, grounding you back in the moment. "Gojo, I know you're still mourning Geto, but this isn't healthy for you."

Gojo settled on your stomach, chest heaving. His hands snuck under your shirt, impossibly soft and warm in your skin. Your cock twitched inside him, wanting him to squeeze and milk you dry but that wasn't what a good friend would let him do.

"I killed him, you know." His hands curled into fists by your hips. "He left me after taking my virginity and when he came back, I killed him on Christmas Eve because he didn't give me another choice. I'm awful, aren't I? Shoko hates me. She won't say it but I know she does. I hate me, too." The blue of his eyes shone as tears gathered, threatening to fall down his red flushed cheeks.

"Shoko doesn't hate you." You said soothingly. You sat up, so much smaller than him, and ran your hands through his hair. "It was an impossible situation, we all think you did the right thing. We--"

He didn't let you finish your thought. Gojo grabbed you by your shirt and slammed his mouth onto yours, his tongue filling you as if he could make you swallow every hateful thing he'd ever thought about himself. "If you don't hate me," he breathed against your lips, his spit wet and warm as it dribbled down your chin, "then cum inside me." He rolled his hips, reigniting the electric pleasure in your core. "Please. You can hate me tomorrow, but right now, I can't let you go."

The pulsing softness of his pussy contracted, squeezing you so tightly you thought you might burst. You gasped for breath when Gojo released you and then did it again. You wanted to move. You wanted to stop. You wanted...

Gojo pulled down the front of your shirt, rolling his hips roughly, chasing his end against your cock. He bit your chest, hard enough to bruise, marking you like an alpha. And that was enough to come undone.

You exploded inside of him, eyes rolling back as your core emptied against his sweet spot. Your hips rolled up into his and you shivered as you felt your knot pop into his pussy, slick sliding down your thighs and onto the blankets.

You struggled to breathe as Gojo laid himself on top of you, breathing fast. He rocked his hips against your knot, already trying to drag another orgasm out of himself. His arms slid under your back, pulling your chest to his. "You're all I have now, Y/N," he whispered, "so please, don't leave.”

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leonw4nter · 4 months ago

Text

Magnolia

[RE2!Leon x GN!Reader]

"After several successful nights of studying hard, your doting boyfriend has nothing but words of praise for your efforts <3" [fluff]

wc - 449

After finishing up on checking your practice sets, you hold your paper up in satisfaction. 35/35, a perfect score, a hard-earned perfect mark from all the nights and hours spent doing active recall and solving practice questions. You grin to yourself, feeling confident and prepared for a long test, proud of the fact that you managed to effectively study. You set it back down, slipping your reviewers and other study material back into its designated L-shape folder to place it inside your backpack. Your boyfriend and study buddy Leon reclines in his seat and stretches his arms above his head, his wrinkled white tee’s hem riding up slightly to reveal a sliver of pale skin.

“Congrats,” he softly says as his words melt into a yawn. “I’m very proud of you. That score wasn’t so easy to get, y’know.”

You preen on his words, chuckling softly as you zip your bag closed. “Yep but I managed to make it happen, thanks to your amazing guidance. Thank you.”

Your boyfriend pushes his glasses back up into his nose bridge before raking a hand through his cornsilk-tousled hair. “Hey, it’s all you. I was just here for moral support.”

He helps with organizing your desk, neatening it up as he stashed away other papers, pens, and blocks of multi-colored sticky notes. He offers to wash the mug you used and to throw away the scrap papers you used, ushering you to settle in bed first. In under 6 minutes, he’s cuddling with you underneath the sheets in your bed. You’re facing him, head cushioned by his arm as your own arm is slumped over his torso. You’re growing drowsy, but you don’t want to fall asleep just yet. Leon’s making it hard to stay awake, his free hand gently stroking and patting your head as he murmurs delicate praises.

“My intelligent, hard-working, incredible sweetheart.”

“I know you’re going to absolutely smash that test, you have enough preparation and the drive to succeed.”

“I love, love, love, love, love you. You’re a rockstar, you managed to stay positive and handled the pressure like a pro. You’re so strong for that.”

“You don’t know how inspiring you are, baby. You’re a champ and this will all be worth it, I promise you.”

You lose track of all his other words, falling asleep. He smiles to himself when he feels your breathing slow down, relaxing at his side as he places a silvery kiss to your head. His hand moves to rest on your shoulder blade, a comforting warm weight as you sleep. With a whispered ‘good night’, sleep tiptoes in and his body softens as he gives in to the soothing pull of slumber.

NOTE - Wrote up a short n sweet drabble as a writing exercise since I haven't written in a hot minute! This one's a little different because my usual works are 1-2K words but this one is just 400+ words so yk, trying something new here ;) I'll be gone for a bit since I have exams coming up and more projects after that, I'm going to miss writing for a bit but I'll try to find windows where I'm not really busy so I can write a lil smn smn like this :) This drabble is inspired by an irl experience-- the studying part, not the Leon as my boyfriend one (unfortunately-- I'm chronically bitchless). I came up with this idea after I imagined Leon hyping me up and being lovely after an intense study sesh :3 umm so while I was gone, I got a new iPad like 3 days ago :D I can play RE4 now :D!!! anyway, thanks for reading my fics!!!!!!!!!!! I <33333333 UUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The animated line dividers are made by cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

#leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy fluff #leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil 2 remake #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #fluff #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #re2 #resident evil 2 #re2r #re2 remake

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imaginespazzi · 7 months ago

Text

Part 3: Miss Me, Miss Me Not

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14

And it hits me when the lights go on (shit, maybe I miss you)

(In which a lazy writer somehow still manages to make her deadlines, much to her own shock)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining and a teensy bit of Fluff

Words: 5.8K

TW: Swearing (once again I think that's it?)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 I'm not gonna lie til about an hour ago, I very much did not think I was gonna give y'all a Monday update but here we are! A couple of housekeeping things, I went back and added months to the years so hopefully that's more helpful. I lowkey dislike this part but I felt like the fic needed it and I'm excited to write the next part. Ngl, the editing on this is pretty nonexistent because trying to read this back lowkey killed me so please feel free to point out mistakes so I can fix them. As always, let me know what you liked, and disliked and anything you wanna see going forward. I really appreciate all of y'alls feedback and the long reviews make my day! Have a good rest of your week lovies <3

September 2017

Azzi: just got home :)

It’s a simple text and it should be easy for Paige to conjure up an equally simple reply. Instead she finds herself typing and deleting, over and over, because nothing sounds quite right. There’s this hollow feeling thrumming in her chest, that has only gotten stronger every passing minute since she’d said goodbye to Azzi at the airport. If she tries hard enough, she can still feel the remnants of their last hug lingering against every inch of her skin. She wants to memorize that feeling and create a blanket out of its threads to numb the ice cold shiver that’s been repeatedly running through her veins from the second Azzi had gotten on that plane. But even that might not be enough. Not when she’s learnt just how warm Azzi’s presence can be and how everything else pales in comparison.

Paige lies to herself that it’s an accidental slip of her fingers, that she’d meant to press send not call, that she had every intention of hanging up the facetime on the first ring itself.

But then Azzi picks up on the second one.

And really it would be rude to hang up.

“Hey what’s up?” Azzi’s face fills the screen, tired eyes staring intently at Paige through the screen.

“Oh um-” Paige fumbles for words, awkwardly shuffling her feet that are dangling off the side of her bed, “I just wanted to ask how your flight was?”

Azzi raises an eyebrow, “you couldn’t have texted me that?”

“Too tired to text,” Paige lies and the words i just wanted to hear your voice stay stuck, burning hot, in her throat, “gotta save these money-making fingers for more important things.”

“Yeah I’m hanging up-”

“NO-” it comes out far more forceful than it should and if possible, Azzi’s eyebrow shoots up even farther, as Paige clears her throat, “I mean- uh- you didn’t tell me how your flight was.”

Paige is too busy cringing at herself to notice the light blush that tinges Azzi’s cheeks. She’s too busy wondering why this girl brings out this nervous bumbling side of hers to notice the fond smile that almost cracks through Azzi’s lips.

“The flight was okay. I actually got to sleep this time,” Azzi says pointedly and Paige laughs.

“So what you’re saying is it was boring as hell.”

“I’m saying it was really peaceful not having someone yapping in my ear while I was trying to sleep.”

“So you didn’t miss me?” Paige presses, trying to keep her voice teasing despite how desperately she wants the admission.

Azzi hesitates, as if she’s debating with herself, before, “I didn’t say that.”

It’s a little ridiculous how large Paige’s grin is but it’s okay, because Azzi’s smiling back, soft and shy. They’d look foolish to anyone else, the way they’re so intently gazing at each other through a screen as if there’s no barrier between them at all.

“It’s gonna be weird going to the gym without you tomorrow morning,” Paige confesses after a second, moving to lay down on her stomach.

“I bet. You’re gonna get absolutely nothing done without me,” Azzi teases dramatically before her eyes soften, “it’s weird that I’m not gonna see you at all tomorrow.”

There’s something gut-wrenching about that admission and yet, there’s something in it that heals a part of Paige’s heart that she hadn’t even known needed to be fixed. It means something to her that Azzi must feel it too. Because if she’s honest with herself, Paige had been just a little afraid that maybe the connection was just in her head, that maybe Azzi was simply tolerating her presence out of kindness.

“You should just move to Minnesota,” Paige replies finally, “much nicer than Virgina or whatever.”

“Have you ever even been to Virginia?” Azzi asks, eyebrows raised as she flips herself to lie on her back, holding her phone above her in a way that lets Paige see entirely too much and yet not nearly enough.

“No but it sounds boring as fuck.”

“Not with me,” Azzi says, biting her bottom lip sheepishly as soon as the words are out.

Paige smirks, suddenly filled with a brand new confidence, “yeah? You’d make Virgina interesting for me Fudd? What would we do?”

Azzi licks her lips and Paige feels her mouth go dry.

“We’d be together,” the younger girl says finally, averting her gaze as the depth of her words begin to make Paige feel like she’s being flooded by an ocean of emotions she’s not quite ready to feel yet, “anything can be interesting if we’re together.”

It would be so easy to come up with a sarcastic quip or tease Azzi for being a sap and yet there’s a certain sincerity in this moment that feels too fragile for Paige to feign nonchalance.

“Is Virginia nice in the winter?” she asks finally, hands fidgeting with the hair ties secured around her wrist, “Minny’s a little too cold sometimes.”

Azzi’s eyes shine and Paige wants to try and read them, find the little clues hidden in her irises and solve the mystery lingering behind the crimson flush of her cheeks. But the truth is that Paige is a little scared of what she’d find, a little scared that discovering Azzi might mean discovering herself too.

“You should come find out some time,” the brunette says, casual tone filled with intricacies of something far deeper. It’s the closest they’ve gotten to saying anything of actual substance and they tip-toe around saying what they both want, daring the other to ask first.

“I dunno,” Paige says, determined to win the game, “I’m not in the habit of showing up to places without a proper invite.”

Azzi scoffs, “a proper invite? Are you expecting someone to send you a carrier pigeon with a gold letter addressed to her royal highness or something?”

“That would be nice,” Paige surmises and Azzi rolls her eyes.

“Does your back ever hurt from carrying that ego?”

“Only hurts from carrying my team.”

“Oh my god you’re so full of it.”

“Full of talent? Yessirrrr.”

Azzi huffs, “Paige.”

“Azzi,” Paige hums.

“Do you wanna come visit me in Virginia during winter break?” Azzi says finally, a small smile playing on her lips like she’s okay with losing this game as long as it’s to Paige.

“If I must,” Paige says dramatically, shrugging her shoulders and everything as Azzi lets out an offended squeak. But inside, her heart flutters at the offer, at the idea of seeing Azzi again, even if it feels like a lifetime away. Because as long as it’s Azzi on the other side, Paige and her impatient self can wait however long it takes.

“Actually you know what nevermind, you don’t gotta come,” Azzi concedes bitterly, scrunching her face (and Paige would never tell her this but she thinks Azzi looks just a little too cute when she’s mad and so maybe she riles her up on purpose)

“No takesies backsies Az,” Paige sing-songs before her lips uptick from a smirk into something more sincere, “hey Az,” she whispers, giggling to herself when Azzi pretends to ignore her, “I’d really like to come see you in Virginia during winter break.”

And as a brilliant grin dazzles across Azzi’s face, Paige realizes that her favorite thing about Azzi’s smile isn’t when her dimples show or when her eyes twinkle, it’s when it’s there because of Paige, when it’s there just for Paige.

“Good,” Azzi whispers as they fall into a comfortable silence.

There’s this serene sense of calm that laces itself around Paige’s nerves. Her normally fidgeting body is content to be perfectly still, an anomaly to her usual demeanor. The truth is that Paige isn’t the kind of person who’s okay with just existing; she likes to spend every second in motion, living out the high. There’s a part of her that’s scared of missing moments, scared that the people around her will leave her behind if she doesn’t chase them. But it’s different with Azzi. The younger girl makes Paige feel like it’s okay if she takes a moment to just breathe. Because Azzi will wait. Because Azzi won’t leave Paige behind.

“Wait,” it’s a little while before Azzi pipes up, shaking Paige out of her thoughts, “what time is it?”

Paige’s eyes flicker to the time on her phone, confused by the line of questioning, “it’s almost 9 why?”

“Don’t you have a team party or something to go to tonight?” Azzi asks, face scrunching, “I swear you told me you had something tonight.”

“Oh-yeah- Amaya’s back to school thing,” Paige sheepishly scratches her neck, suddenly feeling itchy in her flannel shirt. She’d forgotten she was wearing that instead of her daily clothes. Hell, she’d forgotten she was supposed to be going somewhere in the first place, too occupied with other thoughts.

“Bro get up,” Azzi orders, “you’re already late.”

“Nah it’s fine. I don’t think I’m gonna go,” Paige says and she thinks she should probably feel a little more guilty about it.

“What do you mean you’re not gonna go?” Azzi asks in disbelief, “dude you’re the star of the team. You have to go.”

“Amaya will understand besides-” Paige drags in a deep breath, feeling vulnerable as the next words fall out in a quiet whisper, “I don’t wanna hang up yet.”

“Paige c’mon we can talk tomorrow,” Azzi tries to protest but it’s half-hearted at best.

“I wanna talk right now,” Paige argues, “you don’t wanna talk to me?”

For a second Paige thinks Azzi might just say no, might just chip away a little bit of heart with a well-intentioned rejection, but she doesn’t, “always wanna talk to you P.”

“Then don’t hang up. Talk to me.”

And Azzi does. All night.

Two weeks laters there’s a letter, in an envelope with a picture of a carrier pigeon, that arrives in the Bueckers’ mail box.

To her royal highness,

Unfortunately I couldn’t find an actual carrier pigeon (I swear I tried) so this envelope and the mailman will have to do.

~ You are formally invited this winter break to the Fudd family residence in Virginia. ~

(And you better show up Bueckers)

Yours,

Azzi

February 2033

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me,” Ice whines petulantly as she makes herself comfortable on the couch across from where Paige is getting her makeup done, “this is parental neglect.”

Paige laughs, eyes closed, her makeup artist does her mascara, “you’ll survive.”

“You don’t know that” Ice argues, plucking a grape from the fruit basket before segueing into a rant about how boring Arlington, Texas is.

Paige is grateful for the distraction her younger friend is providing. Her nerves had been on edge since the moment she’d woken up this morning, anxious to get the impending farewell press conference over with. She’d already started accepting that the Wings weren’t the right place for her but that feeling had only been heightened by her trip to the Valkyries. And ever since she’s come back, Paige feels a little bit like she’s sleepwalking through her final moments in Dallas. If she’s honest, she’s probably rushing things a little bit. There’s still plenty of time before she really has to move to Oakland but it had been her choice to move there as soon as possible. Paige had always been good at conjuring excuses and she had plenty as to why she needed to be in California so soon. But at the end of the day it isn’t about training or team bonding or any of the other hundred justifications she’s given anyone who’s asked. It’s about a little girl who’s eyes had been brimming with tears when saying goodbye, a little girl who had made Paige pinky swear that she’d be back as soon as possible.

Really, Paige thinks she should be applauded for her restraint, because truth be told, the second Stephie’s lower lip had trembled, Paige had been prepared to ask Ice to just ship her stuff to Oakland so that she’d never have to let go of the little girl’s hand.

And here’s the thing, Paige is willing to admit she wants to go back to the Bay Area for Stephie. It’s that pesky little part of her that’s desperate to go back for Stephie’s mother, to go back for one more hesitant yet lingering touch, that she won’t ever share with anyone else.

“I never thought I’d live to see you and Azzi willingly playing together again,” Ice says as soon as Paige’s makeup artist leaves the room, “KK and I didn’t even try betting on it, we were that sure it wouldn’t happen. Shit I should have. I totally would have won.”

“Don’t y’all get tired of betting on my life?” Paige asks, rolling her eyes, trying to ignore the first part of what Ice said.

“Betting on your life has made me hundreds of dollars bro,” Ice says, before a more earnest look crosses her face, “but genuinely P, are you sure about this? There’s a lot of history there.”

Paige sighs, “it’s not about our history. It’s a basketball decision. And we’re both mature adults who know that. I’m just tryna win. Nothing else.”

“It’s never nothing when it comes to you two.”

“It is this time,” Paige argues adamantly and Ice raises her hands in surrender.

“I just don’t want another set of teammates to have to deal with y’alls bullshit,” the younger girl teases, but it’s laced with a hint of seriousness that sends a flare of guilt shooting through Paige’s body.

“Ice-” she begins.

But Ice is quick to change to a lighter subject, “can’t believe Jana’s the one that gets mom and dad back together. I always knew she was the favorite.”

“We didn’t have favorites,” Paige plays along, thankful for Ice and her ability to always keep the tension to a bare minimum.

“Oh don’t lie. We all know you did,” Ice scoffs and then lets out a chuckle, “and now Azzi’s actually a mom. That’s kinda insane. And you met the kid right?”

“Yeah. Yeah I did,” Paige says and she can’t help the way her entire face breaks into a gleaming smile as her thoughts turn into memories of Stephie. She doesn’t even realize she’s gotten lost in a different world until Ice coughs, an amused grin playing on her lips.

“You’re so royally fucked Paige,” Ice shakes her head, “the only person I’ve seen you smile that big for before is Azzi.”

“She’s a cute, smart, adorable kid, that’s why I’m smiling,” Paige tries to defend herself.

“She’s Azzi’s cute, smart, adorable kid,” Ice counters.

“That has nothing to do with it,” Paige protests again but it rings hollow to her own ears.

“Oh my god I needa call KK and get this bet started. It’s only a matter of time for real,” Ice says, more to herself than to Paige, as she whips out her phone, probably texting KK.

“A matter of time till what?”

“You’ll find out Paigey,” Ice says gravely with a mocking smile, patting Paige’s head, “all in due time.”

***

The Dallas Wings media room is buzzing, reporters desperate to ask Paige questions and the blonde tries to maintain a smile despite the fact that her heart is lurching in her throat right now. Her opening speech had been short and sweet, parroting basically the same thing that had gone out on her social media the night before; she’d been desperate to just get it out. Generally, Paige is pretty good with the media, having been immersed in the spotlight since basically forever. The attention and how to maneuver it has always come naturally to her so she’s not sure why she feels so unnerved by it all today. From the back of the media room, Ice sends her a thumbs up and a reassuring grin and Paige lets out a breath, glad to have at least that comforting presence with her.

“Aidrian Ginsburger with Bleacher Report, Paige, you’ve obviously spent all of your career so far with the Wings, can you tell us a little bit about the impact this organization has had on you?”

Paige smiles at the question, letting her brain skim through pages and pages of fond memories she has of time spent with this team. It might be time to move on but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have plenty of cherished moments.

“Yeah um- this place has really shaped who I am as a person. Since day one, the front office, obviously it’s a different one to the one I came in with, they did a lot to make sure that I was comfortable. My teammates through the years have been incredible and I wouldn’t be the player I am today without them. And of course the fans you know, they always showed out for the team, for me. Always supported me in anyways and I hope that I was able to give back the love to them that they always gave to me,” she says, suddenly nostalgic for the team that had started it all.

The next questions are similar in nature and Paige’s answer varies only in words but not substance. She feels herself start to settle into it, now fielding the expected questions about the Wings and Valkyries with an air of confidence. There are a couple questions about Azzi that make her heart thump, but that was to be expected. It’s a pretty brilliant story in the making, two MVPs who used to play on the same college team coming together. Talia had warned Paige in advance that there was no avoiding it. But for the most part the questions have an easy answer about how Azzi’s a brilliant player and she’s excited to play with her old friend again. That is until a familiar hand shoots up and all the tension that had previously dissipated, comes roaring back with a vengeance.

“Olivia Reynolds with the Dallas Morning News, Paige, as others have said today, you and Azzi Fudd played together at UConn and you were best friends.” Olivia’s eyes glint viciously, “I mean it’s pretty well documented how hard you tried to recruit her to UConn. But despite being best friends, the two of you have been never seen hanging out, outside of games and formal events, unlike your other teammates that is-”

“Is there a point to this?” Paige asks, hands fisting in her lap as she tries to keep herself calm.

Olivia smiles, sugary sweet, “I was just wondering if maybe there was some tension and how that would affect your on-court chemistry at the Valkyries?”

“There’s no tension,” Paige lies through gritted teeth, “we didn’t hang out because we live far apart. There isn’t much else to it. And even if there was, Azzi and I are professionals. We wouldn’t let anything off the court affect our goal to win.”

“You lived far apart before UConn too, but that didn’t seem to stop you guys. What changed?” Olivia presses.

“Time did. Our lives did. There’s nothing sensational here. It’s just a case of two people drifting apart,” Paige says and the fabrication feels heavy on her tongue. If only it really had been that simple.

“But clearly not that much,” Olivia says, and Paige glances at the moderator, desperate for an intervention, “there were plenty of fan pictures of the two of you out getting ice cream with Azzi’s daughter. It seems like you’re already fitting into that Bay Area life-”

“I’m not hearing a question at the end of your sentence,” Paige hisses and she can practically already hear the scolding she’s going to get from Talia once her agent gets wind of how this press conference had gone. The entire media cohort is watching the exchange with wide eyes, no doubt questioning whether they were embarrassed or impressed by their colleague. Ice is mouthing something to Paige, probably something along the lines of please keep your shit together, but Paige is steaming. Really, she should have expected this.

“Well if you’d let me finish,” Olivia snarls, the façade of innocence dropping, “even if the two of you have drifted, as you put it, clearly there’s still a relationship there. How big of a role did Azzi Fudd play in your choice to move to the Valkyries?”

Paige sucks in a deep breath, nails digging into her palm at the question, “Azzi is the best shooting guard in the country. That was her role in my decision to move to the Valkyries. I don’t know what else you’re trying to imply, but I want to play with her because we play well together. That’s it,” she stands up and there’s pin drop silence, “thank you all for coming but we’re done with this press conference.

***

Paige is seething as she exits the media room, Ice hot on her heels trying to calm her down. The sane part of her knows she should head back to the makeup room or even to her car, instead she finds her feet carrying her in the direction of where she knows Olivia Reynolds will be, reviewing her press conference notes by the coffee machine like she always is.

“What the actual fuck was that?” Paige spits as she comes to a halt in front of the reporter.

“I know you think playing basketball is the only job in the world Paige, but that was a reporter doing her job,” Olivia says, her calm and composed voice only furthering Paige’s irritation.

“Bull-fucking-shit.” Paige sneers, “that wasn’t a reporter out there, that was my ex-wife grilling me like we were back in fucking divorce court.”

Olivia cocks her head, “oh so you do remember who I am to you then?”

“Oliv-”

“Because if you did remember, I’d like to think you’d have the courtesy to at least personally tell me that you were moving to your,” she drops her voice, “ex-girlfriend’s team instead of letting me find out with the rest of the world. You don’t think you owed me that?”

“That’s what this is about?” Paige sighs, “Olivia we’ve been divorced for almost three years now, I don’t owe you-”

“You didn’t owe Azzi anything either,” Olivia whisper-yells, the calm in her voice replaced by the same anger that had tainted the last year of their marriage, “but when we first started dating, you kept us a secret for months. You wouldn’t even tell your fucking teammates cause you were so scared she’d find out,” her eyes drift towards Ice who looks like she wishes she’d made a different decision rather than following Paige out here, “you said she deserved to hear it from you but apparently I don’t-’

“I didn’t mean it like that Olivia. Look, I meant what I said up there. There’s nothing between- ”

“Spare me,” Olivia says, as she stuffs her notepad into her bag, “you can lie to all those other reporters out there about how all of this is a basketball decision. You can even lie to yourself if you want. But you can’t lie to me, not when I spent four years fighting to keep our relationship from getting crushed under whatever it is that Azzi is to you.”

***

It doesn’t matter how far Paige burrows her head into her pillows, she can’t seem to stop herself from hearing Olivia’s words reverberating through her ears. The two of them had done well at co-existing in their social circles after the divorce had been finalized. While no one could quite call them friends, they’d done a good job at being friendly, being able to converse and share an occasional drink when in their combined friend group. And if Paige is honest, she knows she’s fucked up, knows she probably did owe Olivia a call. But calling Olivia would have meant calling someone who would inevitably make Paige face the truth, just like she had today. The truth that, even with the deal Talia had concocted with the Liberty hanging in the background like a dark presence, the move to the Valkyries was about a lot more than just basketball for Paige.

She’s so entrenched in her thought that she doesn’t bother checking who it is when the facetime rings, irritation seeping into her voice as she answers it, face still buried in her pillows, “WHAT?”

“Miss Buecks?” a tiny voice comes through the phone and for a second, Paige thinks she must be dreaming, until she finally lifts her head to look at her phone, and Stephie’s small face lights up the whole screen. And it’s like she can feel little hands on her shoulders, slowly unknotting her tightened muscles.

“Stephie,” she breathes out, a sudden sense of serene calm washing over her previously tense body.

“Hi Miss Buecks,” Stephie says happily before she squints at the screen, “you sleep weird.”

Paige laughs, “and why’s that?”

“You’re not wearing pajamas and it’s only seven. ‘Dults don’t sleep at seven,” Stephie says matter-of-factly.

“It’s actually nine here,” Paige says, a little surprised by the time; she hadn’t realized she'd been moping in her bed for that long. Ice had forced her to get lunch together, not wanting to leave Paige alone after the encounter with Olivia. Once she’d finally gotten back to her apartment, Paige had flopped on her bed, taking out her frustrations on her poor pillow.

“That’s not poss-ble,” Stephie scrunches her face, “Mama’s phone says it’s seven.”

“It’s seven in California, it’s nine in Texas,” Paige tries to explain though by the way Stephie’s looking at her, she thinks she’s probably just confusing the girl more, “how’d you figure out how to call me babe?”

Stephie gives her an exasperated look, “Miss Buecks I’m five. I know how to use facetime.”

“And does your Mama know you're facetiming me?” Paige asks, eyebrows raised.

“She’s in the shower,” Stephie whispers, grinning sheepishly.

As if on cue, Azzi appears on the corner of the screen and Paige feels her mouth run dry. The darker skinned woman is clad in a light pink fluffy bathrobe that ends right above her knees, giving Paige the perfect view of her long, toned legs that seem to shimmer despite the shitty quality of the facetime. Rivulets of water cling to her neck, delicately cascading down the valley of her breasts before disappearing from sight. And Paige must be dehydrated because never has she wanted to taste a drop of liquid more than she does right now.

“Stephie,” Azzi groans, as she walks towards the phone and Paige gulps, heart beating faster with every step the other woman takes, everything about her becoming clearer and clearer, “what did I say about using my phone.”

“Only in em-a-gencies,” Stephie recites, “but Mama I had an em-a-gency.”

Azzi tilts her head, eyebrows raised as she gives her daughter a knowing look, “and what was your emergency?”

“I really, really, really, this much” Stephie stretches out her hands as far as they’ll go, really, really, really, miss Miss Buecks.”

Paige feels her heart flutter. Stephie’s words feel like a hand carefully pulling her out from under the pile of stress she’d been buried under the whole day. It’s like the little girl is pushing away the rubble pressing against her lungs, turning the rocks into dust with a light touch and Paige feels like she can finally breathe.

“Sounds like a pretty big emergency to me,” she says, relishing the way Stephie’s face lights up at the admission, “cause I really, really, really miss you too Steph.”

“See Mama,” Stephie says, placing the phone against a wall so can place her hands on her hips and look up at Azzi with a pleased smirk.

Azzi rolls her eyes before glaring at Paige, “you’re a bad influence on her.”

“I’m the best influence on her,” Paige argues, sending Stephie a conspiratorial wink, “just you wait Az, I’mma teach her all the good things.”

Something unreadable flashes across Azzi’s face before she’s back to looking at Paige with an unimpressed arched eyebrow, “I am not letting you corrupt my daughter Paige Bueckers.”

“We’ll see,” Paige says slowly and Azzi shakes her head before turning to Stephie.

“Alright Stephie bean time to go brush your teeth. It’s almost bedtime babes,” she says with a stern look

“But Mama-”

“No arguing, you have school tomorrow missy,” Azzi reminds the little girl and Paige can’t help but marvel at the mother that Azzi’s become. And it makes her heart ache for the fantasies she’d dreamed of when she was in her early twenties. She’d always known Azzi would be a great mother; Paige had just naively thought she’d be there alongside her too.

“Can Miss Buecks stay on the phone till I fall asleep?” Stephie asks, peering up at Azzi with big doe eyes, “please Mama pleeeease.”

“I’m sure Miss Buecks has other things-”

“I don’t,” Paige cuts in far too enthusiastically, clearing her throat to get back some semblance of restraint as both mother and daughter turn to look at each other, “I don’t have anything to do tonight so I can stay till you fall asleep Stephie.”

“YAYY,” Stephie cheers enthusiastically while Azzi studies her with a weary look, “I’m gonna go brush my teeth and then you can read me, my story Mama.”

With that, the little girl runs in the direction of what Paige can only assume is the bathroom, skipping with childlike joy as she sing-songs about something Paige can’t quite make out.

“You know you don’t have to say yes to everything she asks right?” Azzi says slowly as she grabs her phone and sits on the couch.

Paige shrugs, “I have time to stay.”

“Do you?” Azzi asks skeptically, “because from what I heard the Wings are having a little farewell party tonight, for you.”

Paige narrows her eyes, “and how exactly did you hear that?”

“I have connections.”

“You talked to Ice.”

“I talked to Ice,” Azzi concedes, “and I’m pretty sure you’re already an hour or so late for it.”

“Exactly. I’m already an hour late so why bother,” Paige says, sitting up so she can rest head against her headboard, “why were you talking to Ice?”

“I can’t talk to my friend?” Azzi asks slowly.

“Of course you can but why specifically today?” Paige presses

Azzi bites her lip, “I um- I watched your press conference today. You uh-” she averts her gaze, “you seemed really stressed at the end and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

A soft grin upturns Paige’s lips before she can stop it, “were you worried for me Fudd?”

“That’s not-” Azzi groans, “shut up.”

Paige smirks, “you were worried for me.”

“I was concerned for my future teammate," Azzi huffs, “besides,” her face hardens, “she was way out of line.”

Paige sighs at the implied mention of Olivia, “maybe but maybe I deserved it.”

“No you didn’t,” Azzi protests and that oh so familiar protective tone in her voice carves itself into every crevice of Paige’s heart, “no one deserves to be put on the spot like that. She was being unethical trying to dig into your personal life like that.”

“This is nice,” Paige says softly, unable to help herself.

“What is?”

“Seeing you get all defensive over me. It's nice to see you still care. I didn’t know if you still did.”

Azzi’s quiet for a second, gnawing at her bottom lip as she looks at Paige, “I’ve always cared Paige. And-” she hesitates as the tightrope beneath them wavers, “I’m always gonna care.”

There’s years worth of unsaid words lingering in the silence between them as they breach some unspoken rule they’d both inadvertently agreed to. And they both know that they shouldn’t be saying things like this to each other, that they’re teetering on the edge of falling into an abyss that has nothing but destruction at the bottom. But Azzi’s words feel like sunshine, like heat waves across her skin and Paige is so tired of feeling cold.

Before either of them can say another word, Stephie comes back into the room, crawling into Azzi’s lap.

“I’m back,” she beams, completely unaware of the way the two adults are scrambling to act normal around her.

“Here baby,” Azzi hands the phone to Stephie, “take Miss Buecks to your room. Mama’s gonna go change and then she’ll come read to you okay?”

“‘Kay Mama,” Stephie complies, pressing a soft kiss to Azzi’s cheek before running towards her room. For a second Paige’s screen is blurred in motion until Stephie fixes her again and Paige catches a glimpse of Stephie’s room, specifically the walls that are painted the perfect shade of Valkyrie purple.

“I love your walls Stephie,” she compliments.

“They’re pu-ple,” Stephie exclaims, “that’s my favorite color.”

“First the ice-cream, now the color, you’re stealing all of my favorites kid,” Paige teases but she’s secretly pleased by this revelation. It’s dangerous how fast Stephie’s starting to whittle down Paige’s walls and build herself a permanent shelf in Paige’s cabinet of my people.

“Can I tell you a secret Miss Buecks,” Stephie whispers, bringing her lips closer to the phone.

Paige smiles, “of course you can.”

“I think Mama misses you too,” Stephie says softly and Paige feels her heart catch in her throat, “I heard her tell Nanna on the phone.”

“Can I tell you a secret Stephie?” Paige lowers her voice, leaning into her phone.

“‘Course you can Miss Buecks.”

Paige swallows as the admission falls from her lips, “I really miss your Mama too.”

I miss her always and I think I’ll miss her forever.

“What are you the two of you whispering about,” Azzi’s voice cuts in as she tucks herself next to Stephie, a children’s book in her hand.

“Nothing Mama,” Stephie says immediately, winking at Paige through the phone.

“Yeah,” Paige echoes, ignoring her erratic heartbeat, “nothing Azzi.”

Azzi looks between the both of them, clearly aware she’s being left out of something, but doesn’t push further. Instead she flips open the book, pulls Stephie closer into her arms and starts reading. If anyone were to ask Paige later, she wouldn’t have the faintest idea about a single word in that damn book. Because as Azzi’s soothing voice begins to lull Stephie to sleep, and the younger girl, despite her yawns, holds the phone up so the blonde can be included in every second of it, Paige feels herself being pulled into a dream she has no right to dream. She dreams of being in Stephie’s purple bedroom. She dreams of her and Azzi lying against Stephie’s lilac bedspread, their hands entwined in the middle over Stephie’s little body. She dreams of a forever that she’d long forsaken.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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