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starlightsearches · 22 days ago

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All Yours

"I'm going to fucking ruin you." / "I won't apologize for marking you up, everyone should know you're taken." / "I don't want anyone else. No one can make me feel like you do."

@somethingvicked tagging you because I accidentally deleted the original ask 😬 just wanted to say thanks for the request and a big, fat SORRY for taking so long. i was scrolling through my drafts the other day and saw this was like a year old and the shame managed to motivate me enough to finish this. Ooops again and I hope you enjoy!! Comments, likes, and reblogs are always cherished 💖

Eddie Munson x F! Reader

AN: 18+ only!!!!!!, car sex, partially-clothed sex, piv, semi-public, titty worship, humping, dacryphilia, unwarranted jealousy, porn with a little plot, eddie's self-depricating at the beginning but he fucks like a god, very possesive! eddie, multiple orgasms, one (1) mention of pregnancy but it's off-hand and mostly unrelated to the sex, unprotected sex, I took the spirit of the prompts more than the literal wording, this is very different for me and maybe rushed? idk you tell me 🙃

Eddie always jokes that you're his second love.

His van—with its stained upholstery, rattling frame and the battery on its last leg—was here first, he says. And despite everything previously mentioned, he treats that car like his baby.

So when he slams his door hard enough to rattle the glass in the window, it wouldn’t take a genius to know something is up.

Eddie sits silently in the half-light, gripping at the steering wheel with both hands and gnawing at his bottom lip until the skin turns white.

"Everything okay?"

He won't even look at you when he shoves the key in the ignition.

"Sure," Eddie says, but there's a bite to his voice, quiet over the roaring grind of the starter, "why wouldn't it be?"

The car does start—despite his abuse to the engine—and you prop your feet up on the dash, raising your brows as he tears out onto the empty street.

"Ohhh-kay. Is this about—"

You don't even get a chance to take a guess.

"It's not about Steve."

Eddie spits Steve's name at the window and the passing trees, their leaves blurring into inky smudges. You watch his jaw tick, eyes flashing from the road to the rear-view mirror, but never to you.

His resolve falters with the press of your hand against his on the gearshift.

"Really? ‘Cause I was going to ask if this was about Patrick Swayze?”

The speedometer ticks up for a quick beat, and then drops, and Eddie squirms in his seat.

He steers off to the right, and the van shakes as the tires bump off the smooth pavement to the gravel edge of the road, little twigs snapping off on the trees outside against the fading paint.

"Fuck," Eddie grumbles, quiet, like he's having a conversation with himself. His fingers catch in his curls when he takes the other hand from the steering wheel. It's dark out here, away from the street lights, but you still catch the shine glazing his lower lashes, the way he blinks to keep any tears from pooling there.

"I mean, it's no big deal," you tell him, petting over his knuckles with your thumb, "I just wish you would have said something."

You're not sure what lies were spread to make sure the goofy little pre-teens didn't show up for movie night and try to break down Steve's door. You just knew that—for once—everybody piled on the couch in the living room was of legal age.

It seemed like an exciting prospect when the night started, but everything was pretty much the same: just more beer, and fewer voices shouting about whatever movie you were gonna watch.

Nancy and Robin were a united front when they pulled out Dirty Dancing, and you joined them, mostly to annoy Steve when he pretended he wasn't interested.

Eddie grumbled about the choice, arm slung around your shoulder, but he came around, eventually. Nobody can resist the allure of Johnny Castle.

However many beers you had may have been one too many, though, because as soon as the credits started rolling, Steve had yanked you from Eddie's grasp and onto your feet as Nancy and Robin were cheering jump jump jump and you ran, stumbling into Steve's arms with a surprisingly powerful leap. Then you were floating, high above the living room with a bird's eye view of the crushed beer cans and Hostess wrappers littered over the carpet for one glorious second.

Until you landed in a giggling heap with Steve groaning beneath you, the room shaking with laughter to the point of tears, until Robin threatened to pee her pants.

Now that you've sobered up a little, you recognize that Eddie hadn't been laughing along.

He lets his head fall back against the headrest, eyes big as saucers, pathetic like a little dog who's about to get yelled at for pissing on the couch, and he twists the hand that's resting beneath yours until your fingers intertwine, gives you a squeeze—a move you recognize as an apology before he's got the words for what he's feeling.

"You know I'm not interested in Steve, right?" you ask, squeezing back.

Eddie nods, but his eyes tell a different story. He carries this thing with him—a kind of self-conscious bewilderment each time you reach for him in a crowd, press your lips to his, call him your boyfriend when there are people around to hear it.

It's kind of funny how much it doesn't make sense to you, how you assumed that, deep down, Eddie knew that you loved him, but also how badly you wanted him. That it wasn't some kind of fluke or coincidence or apathy that kept you here.

Eddie's breath catches in his chest, like he's trying not to cry, and you know you were wrong. You're not doing nearly good enough a job at making Eddie feel half as loved as he is.

You slip your hand from his, resting it just above his knee—an innocent start for your more illicit plans—scooting in your chair until you're almost nose to nose, lower your voice into a whisper.

"I'm serious, honey. You've got nothing to worry about."

Your plan is working already. Eddie swallows hard enough you can see his adam's apple jump in his throat, and his gaze keeps flickering from your eyes to the hand you've got on his thigh, climbing higher with each soothing stroke.

"Yeah, I-I know, baby, it's just—" his breath hitches, but he's fighting to get the words out, wet lips parting with a heavy breath as your fingers travel higher, thumb in the crease between his thigh and his crotch, "it's Steve Harrington."

His voice jumps an octave on Steve’s name, and your quiet laughter comes out in little breaths.

“I don't want to talk about Steve Harrington."

Your words hit his mouth in a puff of hot air, and Eddie gasps into the kiss that follows, moaning a little when your palm meets the zipper of his jeans and his swelling cock beneath. The tip of his nose digs into your cheek, one of his big hands finding your waist, trying to pull you closer, or as close as he can with the center console in the way.

"God, baby. Need you- need you so bad," he huffs, but you’re already breaking from the kiss, lifting your hips from the seat as you crawl into the space between Eddie’s warm chest and the steering wheel.

“Then you can have me,” you tell him, settling your weight in his lap, grasping around for the lever that’ll give you a little extra space. The seat rattles back until it stops with a heavy clunk, and Eddie has to dig his teeth into his bottom lip to keep quiet when your body lurches into his.

He won’t meet your eyes, looking out the blackened windows, checking the car like somebody’s gonna pop out from the back seat.

“What? Uh, I mean—like, here?”

You take Eddie’s face in both your hands, relishing the scratch of the sparse stubble peppering his jaw. Out of habit, his hands come to rest on your thighs, and you hum in approval.

“Whenever–“ you whisper, shifting your hips back just to bring them forward again, the crotch of your jeans meeting the bulge in his, rattling the chains hooked to his belt loops. Eddie’s neck goes taut, head pressed back against the seat.

“Wherever– “ you place your lips at the delicate skin he’s revealed, just brushing along the column of his throat. When you meet his eyes again, Eddie’s pupils are blown wide.

“And however you want me, Eddie. I’m all yours.”

“You’re all mine,” he repeats back to you, and his hands echo the sentiment, his confidence growing as he moves around to grip at your ass cheeks, pulling you more fully against him until he can grind up on you, his lips at your neck now, planting messy kisses at the edge of your throat that have you digging your fingers into his hair just to keep him there.

Your boyfriend's got a big dick—fucking hung like a horse, although he doesn't seem to know it, and he's already throbbing and heavy in his jeans, bucking his hips into you like he's trying to get you pregnant before he’s even inside you.

"Eddie," you sigh his name, just to admire the feeling of it, and he lets out a groan that has you dripping, the damp fabric of your panties sticking to your cunt and dragging over your clit with each shift of his hips.

"Yeah, baby?" he asks, and you hardly notice his hands at the zipper on your jacket, trailing it down, down, down until he can slip it from your shoulders, gripping at your tits through your tank top.

"You feel so—fuck," he's cut you off mid-sentence, pulling the neckline of your top down until your breasts are free, nipples already pebbling in the cool air. Eddie pinches one of them in between two fingers, the metal of his rings biting at the other until you gasp.

"Yeah?" he repeats, harder this time, the word mumbled into your tits. Eddie's smothering himself, licking and kissing and teething his way as he moves to replace one of his hands with his mouth over the dark, stiff peak.

He sucks the bud between his lips, glides his tongue over the sensitive skin there. The sound of your moans fills the car, and suddenly the pressure of his cock isn't enough when there's so much fabric between you. You can't pull away, though, not with how his free arm has circled your waist, forcing the sway of your hips.

"Eddie," you call out again, but he just grunts, onto the other breast now, fucking devouring you in a way only he can.

He's not stopping, teeth scraping at your skin and his lips pursed, sucking the life out of you while his other hand pinches and flicks the other stiff bud, still damp with his spit.

It's almost frightening how close he's gotten you, and just from this—the movement of his hips and his worshiping mouth.

"Eddie."

There must be something different in the way you say it this time, because he listens, finally, snaking his hand down between your bodies, slipping the button on your jeans and shoving his fingers inside until they reach the apex of your aching cunt. Your vision goes foggy, on the verge of tears from the relief of something solid pressed right up against your clit.

And his mouth doesn't stray from your tits, single-minded in a way only somebody like Eddie could be, sucking at your nipples until they both shine.

His fingers curl, perfect, sitting right where you need them as you grind and grind and grind your hips, brain turning to jelly with the way he's making you feel.

You feel Eddie's teeth bite a perfect circle on the inside of your breast, and that's what pulls you under.

You're practically screaming, and Eddie still won't stop, letting you ride out the perfect feeling of him, maybe hoping you'll remember this moment the next time Steve sees you. Just the idea of meeting up with your friends again after this has you flushing so deep you think you might combust right here.

The sparks fade slowly, your pussy still shaking and empty, wet enough you're sure you've soaked Eddie's fingers and he finally relents, his plump, pink lips tracing your collar bones, stopping at the edge of your jaw. He takes the delicate skin their between his teeth and sucks, hard.

That jolts you from your stupor. You press his head back, one hand on his forehead so you can make him look you in the eyes.

"Hey—that's gonna bruise."

You're scolding has no effect; Eddie's on a different plane now, cocky from making you cum so easily and still a little peeved from earlier, pressing past your hold on him until he can reattach himself to your neck.

"Not sorry," he tells you, marking you up between staccato shifts of his hips, "wanna make sure everybody knows you're mine."

It's impenetrable logic—you couldn't argue with him if you wanted to, and you really, really don't want to when he makes his way to your mouth, kissing you, his tongue against yours and his hot, heavy breaths, one hand balled in the fabric of your tank top at the middle of your back.

"Turn around," he tells you, guiding you into compliance with his hands at your waist, and it makes you dizzy, feeling like you'd end up on the ceiling if Eddie didn't keep his grip on you, pulling you tight against him until your back meets his chest.

It’s like he's touching you everywhere, hands on your hips and your tits and pushing your hair up off your neck—looking for more skin that he hasn't painted yet—so you're not prepared when the chair falls back, left breathless and unmoored, staring at the stained upholstery on the roof of Eddie's van.

"You good?" Eddie asks in response to the gasp you let out, urging your hips into the air as he tugs your jeans and your underwear down around your thighs.

You just nod, too desperate for any explanation, to say anything at all. Eddie's turned you stupid, has you whining into his neck when you lean your head back on his shoulder, looking up at his jaw with wild, tear-filled eyes.

"Gonna ruin you for anybody else, sweetheart," he tells you over the sound of his jangling belt, his hot cock pressed against your back. "Gonna make sure you never leave me."

You nod, fucking rabid when he shifts and you can finally feel the fat tip of his dick at your entrance, smearing the first taste of his cum over your lips.

"Nobody else, Eddie," you promise him, "just you."

Eddie takes his cock in his hand, teasing it over your pussy, nudging it against your clit until you jump in his arms. He grips tighter at your waist, holding you just under your tits to keep you still.

"Promise?" he asks.

The tears that slip down your cheeks and onto his neck must be answer enough, because Eddie slides inside you, just the tip, and the relief at even this small feeling of fullness has you crying out.

Eddie's thrusts are methodical and relentless, slow at first, but they build quickly, his hips slamming into you, his grunts from exertion and from pleasure low in your ear. And you're moaning, too, like putty against him, totally enraptured as you watch the muscles in his jaw flex, beads of sweat collecting at his hairline.

He keeps hitting this spot inside you, has you full to the brim, and you're so wet you half-wonder if your pussy juice is soaking into the seat.

It feels like the van is rocking with the force of his thrusts, steam collecting around the edges of the windows from your shared breaths. It’s obscene how in to this you are, how loud it sounds, the wet squelch of your poor cunt echoing around the interior of his van.

"You're gonna cum for me, baby," he tells you, "wanna feel you squeezing my cock."

Four of his fingers meet at the top of your thighs, rubbing steady circles over your clit. You think you might be screaming.

Eddie has you cumming like you're being raptured, twitching in his lap, tits bouncing as he fucks into you, deeper than before until your vision blacks out and you can't see or feel or think of anything but perfect Eddie Munson and his perfect fucking cock.

It's dark when you come to. Maybe he fucked you blind.

Your vision returns, though, just in time. Eddie's chest heaves beneath you, and he pulls out with a grunt, his cum and yours dripping down your thighs in a sight so lurid it's got you flushing down to your neck.

That's definitely going to stain the upholstery.

Eddie doesn't seem to care, stroking his heavy hands over your thighs, pulling your clothes back into place—gentle where they had been rough, his mouth dotting soft kisses against the back of your spine.

Eddie shifts you around in his lap, let's his big eyes find yours. Your fingers twine with his, and he laughs a little when you kiss at his knuckles.

"You know," Eddie says, cheeks pink and a stupid smile on his face, "now that I think about it, Dirty Dancing might be my new favorite movie. I mean, who doesn’t love Patrick Swayze?"

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #my writing

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prince-geo · 1 year ago

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literally pleased with almost all of the new atla trailer except as per usual, Zuko's scar, idk why studios are so scared to commit to the intensity of the thing, its supposed to be shocking and obvious and textured and the first thing you see... that's the point, Zuko is supposed to struggle with feeling like it defines and brands him before finally coming to the point in his journey where he defines it.

Hollywood/big studios are known to hesitate or straight up avoid properly and honestly and unapologetically showing people with disfigurements/disabilities/facial differences etc. with the realism they deserve. Which is a shame in general for representation and humanization but ESPECIALLY in this case as its minimization actively harms it's narrative purpose as well

I promise making the scar more intense (shrivel up the ear a bit, make it intrude in his hairline, make his eye in a permanent squint due to nerve damage, for god sake REMOVE THE EYEBROW IT WAS BURNED OFF) will not make Zuko "ugly", (the actor is incapable of looking ugly and also the implication that scars make people too unappealing? yikes) but will actually do the character and his journey justice, not to mention really show Ozai's brutality, another essential narrative tool. Especially when he's bald like hello??? It should be even more stark and intense when he doesn't have hair to distract from it and cover his ear!!!

When transitioning from 2D to live action, of course some visuals are up for interpretation but that usually involved ADDING detail because the constraints of having to stay on modeling frame to frame is gone, not minimizing, removing or airbrushing. Doing Zuko's scar right to me is absolutely essential and I'm disappointed they seem just as as scared to go there as I thought they might. It doesn't have to be gory, if you've ever seen burn victims in real life or in pictures or even cosplayers/artists who are skilled in realistic burn makeup you'd know its possible to balance realism with humanity. It's possible especially with their resources to avoid the "scary Halloween makeup" route while not holding back on the brutality of the original injury.

Budget is definitely not an issue, or "scaring the kids" considering this remake is likely aiming to go a lil darker in tone than the cartoon (which was already super dark with its target audience of nickelodeon 7 year olds so no excuses) Audiences SHOULD be unsettled and upset when they see him but not because he's hard/disturbing to look at but because we are human and do not want to imagine someone doing that to a child.

It's a deliberate choice out of the all too common fear/hesitation to allow someone who is destined to eventually become a protagonist and is meant to be sympathized with to be "too ugly" while this hesitation is very rarely applied to straight up villains (again we come back to media's historic villainization of facial deformity). It's a trend that's always ticked me off in fanart too. The boy's face was melted, for gods sake. Zuko was always portrayed as an attractive boy in the cartoon (fire nation girls fawn over him) even with the intensity of his scar which is something I've always admired! People exist with scars similar to Zuko's in real life, and should not only be permitted to be represented as good guys and/or as attractive when their scars are toned down to be "palatable"

Like I said there's more that I loved than didn't love about the trailer, that can be a whole essay on it's own but I needed to get this very specific vent off my chest because it missed the mark so hard and stands out like a sore thumb in comparison to all the other visuals that hit the nail on the head to me

#atla #zuko #avatar the last airbender #atla live action #ozai #dallas liu #my posts #atla wank #rant #atla critical #prince zuko #netflix #netflix atla

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werecreature-addicted · 8 months ago

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u once brought up coyotes and i’ve been hooked ever since 😭😭

so how about a cute sexy coyote who’s been seducing the big bad alpha wolf for so long it got so frustrating that he lets it out on her for days (poor baby can’t walk anymore, can she) idk he eventually wifes her up 😂 a cute lovely ending

love uuu and thanks in advance !

Coyotes really aren't all that different from wolves, they move in packs, they hunt similar prey, and the mating seasons are at the same time of year. So really was it that big of a deal that you were hunting on werewolf territory? No right? you were basically cousins. well, that's what you thought at least, and you were wrong.

The alpha of the pack had caught you sniffing around. you had been warned many many times that wolves didn't tolerate completion on their hunting grounds and killed silly coyotes who got too close hunting for rabbits. now here you were darting through the forest as fast as you could with snapping jaws right on your tail. He's already chased you out of the werewolf territory it's not fair why is he still chasing you? no fair no fair no fair.

he catches you, knocking you to the ground and rolling with you through the grass, he lands on top of you his chest to your back. his big hands pinning your wrists. his knees pinning down your legs so you can't kick him. you struggle, but he's so much stronger than you that the act is basically pointless. You buck your hips back trying to knock him off, he lets out a muffled grunt, then a snarl as your ass pushes back against his crotch.

For some reason, this stirred something inside of you, this isn't so different from the play wrestling male Coyotes did as courting. a warmth spreads in your belly. you were still scared, especially with his sharp teeth hovering over your neck ready to rip your throat out. but there was something else string in you. you had been pinned, face down ass up by a strong powerful male with his groin pressing against you, and your heat was starting to hit because of it. you hated how good this felt.

"I'll let you off with a warning if you don't come back," he growled, his voice as deep and low, you wanted to tell him yes you'd be good, please spare your life, but what came out instead was a low moan as you pushed back against him not trying to escape this time. his nostril flared.

"did you go into heat?" he no longer sounds angry but more, surprised.

"I'll never come back if you just fuck me, let me cum," you pant. he growls again, but you can feel him grind against you, matching the roll of your hips.

"Brat. did you come here just so some wolf might pin you down and ruin your cute cunt? what are those coyote boys aren't big enough for you?" he snarls, you can feel his hardening cock against your behind he was bigger than any coyote you'd fucked before. you'd never been so horny before in your life, it's not even going to fit inside of you this big werewolf cock is going to split you right in half and you couldn't be happier.

"say it, say that this is what you wanted all along," he demands, teasing your pussy with the thick dip of his cock. you try to buck back and take his dick inside of you, he grabs the back of your head and shoves your face down in the grass forcing you to say in place. "Say it," he repeats.

"I just want your cock in me, it's all i want please please pl-" Your begging is cut off as his tick cock pushes inside of you. he's so big you feel like you can't breathe. the pain is delicious. you definitely won't be walking after this, you hope he and the rest of his pack take advantage of it.

#monster imagine #monster fucker #monster #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #werewolf #werewolf x reader #werewolves #werewolf boyfriend

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madschiavelique · 12 days ago

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A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 10 - Three of Cups

summary : you are invited to a masquerade, and between battling to find a decent dress and the expectations of conducting oneself in high society, you manage to pull it off

content warnings : masquerade shit idk, reader putting men back in their places because duh, for reference here are the link to reader (the pic on the right) and viktor's outfit for the masquerade (art made by me)

word count : 8,5k

author's note : omygoodness, i’m so dubious about this chapter. i could NOT not give viktor some khôl sexy eyes okay. i just did and i don't regret it. also!!! i moved the taglist down the doc now hehe

proofread by the lovely @yaffles-world <3

masterlist : here

"Really now?"

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your head barely visible above a fluorescent orange collar with multiple layers piling up on top of each other like lasagna.

Who would have thought that finding a dress was such a long and difficult job?

You'd already been in a few shops in Piltover for a good hour each. You'd been going from boutique to boutique for nearly three hours already, and you were beginning to lose hope about the possibilities open to you regarding your outfit.

Tonight was the gala, and you still hadn't found a dress. You'd probably imagined that the matter would be sorted out quickly. That, by some miracle or other, you would find a dress that was chic and presentable enough to wear to a masquerade.

But the clock was ticking, while your search continued unabated. Sélène and Sky had both come to accompany you, and the two of them had enough in common that the teacher-student barrier was forgotten and she just saw her as a friendly aunt.

Sélène had this extraordinary ability to always be open, to see everyone as an equal, no matter what their age or background was. It was an immense and admirable quality, coupled with her extraordinary patience to hold out and persevere in finding you a superb evening outfit.

You had tried on so many dresses that you thought you could now recognise every possible material a dress could be made of. You'd tried silk and velvet, pleats of tulle or organza, all sorts of cuts that made you look either too invested in this evening or far too casual.

You knew that, once you entered the gala hall, it would be an arena. A constant battle of eyes tearing at the others, comments on their appearances, their words - passive-aggressive phrases disguised as condescending benevolence.

You could understand why Jayce didn't want to face such a world, always so hungry for crumbs that left stomachs screaming to invent new words and cover the world with a layer of sneaky ridicule.

Speaking of ridiculous, the outfit you were now wearing completed the criteria.

You turned to Sky and Selene who, with a knowing glance, sighed in turn. You returned to the cabin, removing the dress and putting on your clothes again with annoyance.

"Maybe I should just tell Jayce I can't make it," you concluded as you left the cabin.

"No way in hell," chuckled Selene.

"Maybe we should try the other side of the river?" Sky suggested, after seeing that there was no one around to overhear.

Zaun owned huge dressmaking houses, however they clashed with Piltover’s aesthetic. If word got out that one of the guests at this prestigious gala was wearing couture from the enemy city... you didn't know what that would do to your reputation and the strings that would be pulled to constrain you in your aims.

"No," replied Selene, her eyes fixed on you as a flash of lucidity seemed to cross her mind. She gave you both a wise smile. "There's still a wardrobe in Piltover where you'll probably be able to find something."

She then turned to Sky, offering her a charming smile and taking both her hands, squeezing them gratefully.

"Sky sweetheart, I'll be taking over from now on. I thank you immensely for your time and your very pleasant company." She turned to you for a moment. "Dear, give me one of those tickets Jayce gave you."

You complied, handing her one of the tickets still looking crisply printed, which she handed to Sky.

"Go on a little shopping trip and get yourself some treats. You've earned it."

Sky looked deeply surprised, exchanging a glance with you for a moment as you shrugged, equally confused.

Selene turned to you. "As for us, we've got some real archaeological work to do."

The two of you returned to Selene's flat as Sky had left, exchanging one last minute and promising to tell each other absolutely everything once you got back from the Gala.

"What card did you draw today?" she asked as she opened the door to her dressing room.

You watched as she grabbed a small stepladder. "Three of Cups."

"Aha," she smiled as she climbed onto it, scanning the shelves above, "the cards know about this little soirée."

The little booklet was starting to feel a lot more familiar now: Joy shared with others. Friendship and celebration. The expression of love and warm feelings.

It all seemed very positive, you thought, as you continued to read the page. The Cups reflect the sacred triad of creativity and growth. This card reminds you to share with others. Empowering others increases your happiness, health and wealth. Surround yourself with people who uplift you.

Talk about elevation, you'd find yourself surrounded on all sides by aristocrats and other big heads, where the only level that could rise would be that of clever condescension camouflaged under dishonest smiles.

Selene's graceful hands, full of rings, clutched a large black leather suitcase. She blew on it, a cloud of dust rising into the air as she passed it to you.

“What's this?” you questioned as you picked it up, its weight comfortable in your arms as you observed the trunk.

She bent down to grab the handle of a second briefcase, brown and with the varnish starting to peel off the corners.

"I was around your age when I started getting invited to Galas and other balls of the sort." She descended the small steps of the stepladder, facing you. "I kept all the dresses that some men had offered me."

You smiled, amazed and surprised. "Offered?"

Selene giggled, kneeling on the ground as you did the same.

"They offered me drinks, and the drinks went to the bed, and from the bed came enough adoration that I have to my credit two or three divorces in which I am the centre of the affair." She sighed as she undid the two golden buckles guarding the sealed chest. "They covered me with jewels," your eyes passed over her hands again, "flowers, and on special occasions, dresses."

She opened it, and your lips parted at the beauty of its contents. She pinched an emerald-green piece of fabric, lifting its heavy velvet into the air before you and revealing a winter dress all embroidered with carmine and obsidian stones, dripping like blood.

Another slipped through her fingers, a summer dress in a fine, peachy pink, its sleeves made of organza embroidered with gold embellishments.

Another made you open your mouth until your jaw hit the floor. A long golden dress, with a loose neckline reaching down to just above her navel, while the bare back almost reached her sacrum.

"You wore that?" you almost choked out.

She smiled, raising her eyebrows. "Some of them wanted to uncover me more than cover me."

You laughed softly, opening the black trunk in your lap. The glitter of a black sequined dress was immediately reflected on your skin.

"These are all so beautiful..." you said almost absently, your hand running through the fabric.

The thought then occurred to you that you were going to wear something so expensive and beautiful tonight, but you felt almost unworthy to have any of these dresses on your skin. You were first in the Academy, of course. And you had worked hard to get there. But a masquerade that would surely be attended by all the most important people in Piltover was no mean feat.

"Now," Selene broke through your incessant internal doubts, clutching the first dress that came her way, "let's see how beautiful you look in them."

You smiled softly at her, shyly accepting the piece of art as she stepped out of the dressing room and gave you time to change.

You held the fabric close to you, the sequins reflecting off your hands as your eyes tried to visualise you wearing that same dress tonight. I must be perfect, you thought.

As you began undressing to put on the dress, a reflection caught your eye. Your attention was drawn to a dark patch peeking out from under an old pink dress.

Drawn in, intrigued, you gently pinched the shoulder of the dress to discover the one hidden beneath. A soft, violet fabric, approaching a dark blue, gleamed in the light from the ceiling, lines of small blue and black stones streaking it from top to bottom.

Purple, you thought, the conversation from the day you visited the museum coming back to mind.

You took the dress in your hands, rising up and letting it unfurl like a waterfall at night. The fabric seemed magical, shimmering like stars on water, glistening like the moon on snow. The neckline ran from around the neck in a V-shape to the centre of the valley of your breasts, a dark, almost black bodice hugging the waist while the skirt came down to the feet. The shoulders were covered, the sleeves parting loosely halfway down the arm until they met at gold bracelets around the wrist.

It was sublimely elegant, dark and mysterious, perfect for a masquerade. You carefully replaced the dress Selene had originally given you in the suitcase, and slipped it on. The fabric was soft against your skin, a slight reassuring weight on your shoulders as the bracelets closed around your wrists with ease. You felt neither too tight nor too loose – a perfect balance.

Maybe purple wasn't such a bad colour after all.

"So?" called Selene from outside.

You inhaled, hesitantly opening the dressing room door. Selene was at her vanity, looking in her drawers for the few palettes that might embellish your eyes. She looked away from her search, resting her eyes on you, and her gaze softened.

"Where did you get this one?" you asked, your finger pinching the skirt gently as you gazed at the stones glinting softly in the light.

She moved towards you, tender, as a thin smile stretched her lips, gazing wistfully at the dress on you.

"It was given to me..." her hand came to rest on one of your shoulders, sliding down your arm, "by a man I loved."

"You loved?" you repeated in wonder.

"Mhm," she hummed, her hand reaching for the gold bracelet, index and middle fingers together as if to trace its pulse. She seemed to come back to reality, regaining your eyes. "I'm glad you're wearing it."

She then turned her head to the mirror on her dressing table, taking your wrist gently and pulling it so that you came to sit in front of it. In your reflection, the dress looked stunning, highlighting your figure to perfection and lighting you up.

Selene then picked up a black circular mask, hanging over the mirror.

"Now," she brought the mask up to your face, placing it to make sure it would fit, "it's time for the world to figure out how to resist you."

Your heart was pounding as the music came closer to your ears and your heels echoed in the huge hallway you were walking through.

Selene had done your make-up after you'd showered, spending a good while on your eyes, since they and your lips would be the main attractions. She fixed your hair, gave you a few accessories and found a pair of heels in your size.

You made your way to the masquerade building without much trouble, the cool night air calming the heat in your cheeks. And now that you'd reached the big ballroom, your heart was starting to race in your chest.

What if you stumbled and made a fool of yourself? What if you said something wrong that didn't fit in with high society etiquette? What if you made a mistake?

You tried to breathe, to calm yourself down, to not assume that you were going to fail no matter what. You were the top of the Academy, after all, and defeat feared you. You thought about all the possibilities, and resigned yourself first of all to finding Jayce, who was probably just as lost and scared as you were.

You took one last breath, and turned into the chamber with your head held high.

The room had a high ceiling from which modern crystal chandeliers shone, illuminating the space where all sorts of silhouettes mingled. Some were standing by banqueting tables piled high with petits fours and amuse-bouches, while others were forming clusters of discussion groups, each carrying a champagne flute.

Do as they do, you thought, on the lookout for a waiter who might pass not far from you. With great luck, a charming butler came towards you as if a radar for people without champagne flutes had been grafted onto his eyes.

You took one, offering him a polite smile. As he prepared to leave, already looking for new people to please, you thought hesitantly to ask him if he'd seen Jayce Talis. But you stopped yourself, instead bringing the drink to your lips to prevent making a fool of yourself. You were in a masquerade, the very principle of which was the doubt and mystery of those with whom you were sharing a discussion.

Fortunately for you, however, you knew Jayce well enough to recognise him in a crowd. Had Viktor even arrived? You had no idea. Perhaps you were alone here, a shrimp trying to pretend to be a shark when an ocean of danger could bring a deadly current at any moment.

You looked around the room a little more closely. On either side, pillars of white marble rose up to a vaulted ceiling covered with superb frescoes. The floor was almost a mirror of it because of its intensive polishing, the black and white tiles creating intricate rosettes which you could no doubt start counting if the evening ever got too boring for your liking. At the far end of the room, three huge windows, almost embedded in the domed ceiling, let you discover the night and its mysteries. There was even a small band playing a steady stream of classical music, much to the delight of everyone it appeared.

The setting was magnificent, the scents of expensive foods and fragrances mingling almost to the point of suffocation. Everyone was wearing quite different colours, but the majority were still in Piltover's gold and white.

Finally your eyes found Jayce, dressed in the colours of his house. It's all about subtlety, you thought as you walked towards him. You hoped that by some miracle he would turn his head towards you and recognise you, so that you wouldn't have to worry about interrupting a conversation.

Alas, he did not. You walked towards them, a sentence ending as you arrived.

"I thought I'd never find you," you said, Jayce and his chatting companion both turning to face you.

Jayce looked confused for a moment, frowning and hoping he wasn't a complete idiot.

"Do I know y..." You feared the worst when a flash of genius crossed his eyes. "Oh it's you!"

Your shoulders relaxed as the stress subsided.

"I almost didn't recognise you," he admitted, apparently taken aback by your outfit. He turned for a moment to his conversation companion. "If you'll excuse us."

The latter nodded politely as you and Jayce walked away, along one of the buffet tables.

"This place is terrifying," you started, your eyes going around the room as you noticed a few glances being on you relentlessly.

Jayce shrugged, grabbing an appetiser that looked far too sophisticated for you and Sky to be lucky enough to find in the corner shop. "It's not as bad as I thought it would be," he said with his mouth full.

"That's because you're a social butterfly, Jayce," you remarked, your stare stretching across the room as a few eyes rested on you and smiled in what looked like an attempt at flirting from a distance for some. "You're the sunlight of this room."

He stopped chewing for a moment, looking at you with big eyes. "That's probably the nicest thing you ever said to me."

"It's not that complicated - all of them look like they were dipped in wax and can barely crack an actual smile."

"I take that back," he sighed, swallowing his bite.

You turned your attention back to the buffet, plates probably costing more than your salary, containing all sorts of arrangements mixing puff pastas and all sorts of garnishes.

You ventured to take one, exhaling a hum of relief as the taste was absolutely divine. Perhaps you'll be staying near the food this evening? The advantage with them at least was that you didn't risk having to talk yourself to sleep.

"So," you licked your fingers, "will you introduce us to your girlfriend?"

He sighed, his shoulders drooping. "Chances are she'll find you before I find her,” he mumbled, his eyes roaming the room in search of the aforementioned lady. "She's in her element here, but I think you'll recognise her once she comes to you."

You'd seen Mel Medarda before. Selene, who had a metaphorical place on the council, used to take you along from time to time when public meetings such as trials took place. You knew each of the councillors, like most of the people in Piltover, and would no doubt recognise them if the occasion arose.

Mel Medarda, sumptuous woman that she was, had left her mark on you in her beauty, her eloquence and her generosity. You hoped to honour your memory and her greatness by recognising her this evening.

"Is Viktor here with you?" you asked, curiosity winning out over silence.

"Yes," he smiled, raising his eyebrows, "I think he managed to temporarily escape to the toilets."

You brought your champagne flute to your lips. "Smart man."

From across the room, a guest raised her flute to Jayce.

"Duty calls," Jayce confirmed as he rubbed his hand off of any crust before placing his hand on your shoulder, "don't sweat it in here, just... mingle."

And with that, he left, leaving you at the mercy of a world you despised.

You looked at the dishes, taking a second one in your hand so as not to stand there like another statue in the background. You took a few steps out of sight, trying to savour what little quiet and time you had on your own before anyone requested your attention.

"That is quite an unfamiliar silhouette that I meet."

You turned, your eyes landing on a young woman covered in a dress combining saturnine white, black and gold.

Mel Medarda.

In her long dress with a skirt slit up her thighs, she looked like an elegant bottle of poison, an addictive elixir that gave you the serenity and comfort of knowing you were in control and that you had someone to talk to if any worries arose.

She had a mouth shaped like a chameleon, ready to take any shape or colour that might interest or uninterest her auditor. Her dark lips quirked into a smile as her eyes crinkled, all covered in gold and dark glitter. There was power in her grin as she moved forward, murmuring I've got lies so handsome you'll never want to believe the Truth, and that would make her jealous. I've got excuses so beautiful you'll want me to betray you to listen to them, so powerful you'll forgive me anything.

She was the fiercest shark in the pond, and she was coming towards you.

"Councillor," you raised your flute in introduction, trying to gain the same calm and consistency of diplomatic discussions, "I don't think we ever officially met before."

She sighed as she came up to you, shaking her head. "Let us drop the formalities – you're not going in for a discussion joust with me."

You looked startled, Mel dropping her shoulders.

“I know you're a friend of Jayce and Viktor, you're not a part of any of..." she described a graceful circle in the air with her flute, "them."

You relaxed a little. ‘Thank the Hells, I thought I'd have to behave myself and have conversations about a multi-polarised conflict of international importance, or anything of the sort."

She smiled at you, all charming. She was young, if not the same age as you. So how did she go about her day-to-day life, pushing herself to act like an adult whose shoulders bore the weight of big, heavy decisions?

"To simplicity," she toasted.

You raised your flute to hers before taking a sip. Its contents were beginning to dwindle already.

"How did you and Jayce meet?" she asked after her own swig.

"Two years ago, when I first started at the Academy, I was transferred to his class after three months."

"Really? For what reason?" she inquired.

You shrugged. "I'd made enough progress on my year's programme that they were considering moving me to another class. Skipped two classes in my life," you smiled.

"I'm beginning to understand why you're in first place in the rankings," she nodded, arching an eyebrow.

"Determination can take you a long way," you confirmed. "Jayce passed me the notes of the classes he'd taken since the beginning of the year, and wire by wire the title of classmate blurred into friend."

You thought back for a moment to the afternoons you'd spent poring over Jayce's notes, the question marks he'd drawn over and over again on his papers that you'd ended up completing for him. And when the weekends came and he came to see you at the café, he'd always wait until you had your break to talk about anything and everything with you.

“How about you?” you asked in return. “Haven't had many times this year to sit down and talk with him about his life, but I do want to know about you.”

“What don't you know?” she smiled. “The advantage of advisors is that a lot of their lives are biographed and catalogued.”

“Lucky then that I get to talk to a human being and not a pile of dead leaves,” you remarked.

She nodded gently before tilting her head to one side in consideration.

“I met Jayce after his trial. We had a long discussion and reconsidered his sentence after sharing it with the council. Since then, I've helped finance some of his projects, and the line between the professional and the romantic has blurred.”

“You're sure he's a good boyfriend, aren't you?” you inquired, ”if I find out he's not buying you a bouquet of flowers every week I may well have to perform an urgent intervention to educate him on the subject.”

She laughed softly, amused by your enthusiasm for making sure he was beyond reproach.

“No lesson needed, I assure you,” she confirmed, turning to the rest of the room and making a very subtle gesture with her hand for a butler to come and serve you both again. “How are you enjoying the night so far?”

“Well,” you sighed, ”I haven't made myself any new enemies so that's a good sign. You?”

“I think that if I hear another conversation about a love affair with a 62-year-old priest or a thesis on predictive models of pluripotent stem cell susceptibility, one of these drinks will end up poisoned by the end of the evening,” the butler reached you and poured you a refill, Mel smiling at him. “Thank you.”

She turned back to you.

“You are my breath of fresh air of the evening.” Her eyes drifted over your form for a moment, intrigued. “That's quite a lovely dress, by the way - I haven't seen such garments around here. Where did you find it?” she inquired as she pinched the fabric of one of your sleeves between her long fingers.

“Oh, my mother gave it to me,” you replied, pleasantly surprised that you could talk so calmly and simply without any pressure. “You probably know of Selene?”

Her eyes returned to yours. “Selene? Selene Phathe?”

You nodded, her lip stretching to the side.

“I wasn't aware she had a daughter.” she remarked.

“She has many children,” you smiled. “I'm her legal daughter.”

Selene had always had something very maternal, but had inherited the bitterness of infertility. Any child or young person she came across and helped became a bit like her spiritual children, and you knew your siblings were in good hands.

“I see,” Mel said, offering an understanding smile. “I ask her from time to time for readings and such. Everything she's shared with me has turned out to be true. I was quite skeptical about being carried away by such a science, but she managed to convince me of her certainty.”

“Started reading Tarot myself after a few years of getting readings, it's... startling how accurate they are.”

“Truly?” She pressed her shoulder against yours, “you'll have to come visit me to give me a reading someday.” She smiled. “And inform me of any of Jayce's mischief if he ever does any, I'll be sure to correct him on that matter.”

You raised your then-full flute, all smiles. “I'll drink to that.”

She returned the smile, taking a sip before her eyes found those of another guest in the room and she sighed.

“If you'll excuse me, I think I have another boring conversation to attend to.”

“Good luck - you have my support from afar,” you encouraged her as she gracefully made her way to the designated person.

Your eyes then roamed the room again, observing the few outfits the guests were wearing and all the high heels worn by the women who must have been killing their feet... But your eyes found the end of a cane, a cane you knew all too well and which almost appeared in your horizon like a real lifeline in this troubled sea.

You moved forward, your eyes still lowered on the end of the cane as someone blocked your field of vision and you bumped them.

“I'm sorry,” you uttered immediately, checking to make sure your champagne hadn't spilled as your eyes darted back to the masked ones of-

Tyler?

The fool's blond curls had been partially combed back with gel, his scarlet mask matched by a suit in Councilman Hoskel's colors: Black, Red and Gold.

He frowned, his eyes watching you completely before he realized where he knew that voice from.

“You?” he pronounced with as much disgust, shock and surprise mingling in his voice.

“Equally pleased, Tyler,” you grumbled, moving to extricate yourself from the situation when he grabbed your arm.

Your eyes immediately landed on where his hand was, moving slowly until they found his. How dare he even touch that fabric?

“What are you doing here?” he questioned, still not letting go of your arm.

“Got the invite for the biggest bastard competition, but it's just my luck that you got here. Now I can't win it, so if you'll excuse me-” you tugged again but Tyler kept his grip firm.

“How the hell did you get in there, huh?”

“Through the door, like everyone else. Can you let me go?”

“Where did you get such an empyreal dress?”

“Oh, you learned a new word.”

“It's Talis, isn't it?” He chuckled, finding the situation pitiful. “Thought he could just let you in like this?”

“Did your mother throw the baby away to raise the placenta? I was invited by merit, unlike you,” you almost spat at him. “Now let go of me.”

“Say please, and I'll consider it.”

“Tyler, I'm going to make you soluble so I can dilute you in my piss and dispense you into every flute in this room,” you threatened. “Let go of me.”

He nodded. “That's not how please is pronounced.”

“Her? Saying please, to you?”

You both turned toward the voice that had just spoken to you, the accent now inscribed in your ears.

Viktor.

Your breath seemed to almost supernaturally halt as your eyes fell on him. A purple, almost black velvet coat sat on his shoulders, the collar of his pierced shirt from which golden chain ornaments dangled, reached down to his vest, which elegantly outlined his waist. His black pants, flowing harmoniously down to his ankles, led to perfectly polished black shoes.

As your gaze returned to his face, your eyes locked on his, whose eyelids, beneath his mask of purple velvet and gold, were covered with a layer of kohl. His amber eyes possessed something mystical, mysterious and powerful.

“You too?" huffed Tyler. "It's an epidemic.”

“Tyler, I believe the Miss asked you politely to leave her alone. I suppose you wouldn't want any rumors to get out about the Hoskel heir and some of his violent behaviours,” Viktor remarked.

Tyler's eyes darted around the room, most of the masked faces turned towards him while many murmured unintelligible things as they watched the scene. His gaze reached yours again, one corner of his lips rising in annoyance as he finally let go of your arm.

“What's vermin like you doing here?” he asked, teeth clenched.

“We've been officially invited,” Viktor marked. “The efforts of the two top-ranking Academy students that we are have therefore been given the opportunity of such an evening to solidify diplomatic ties, with the hope later of obtaining alliances useful to our projects for the common good.”

You had no idea how quickly Viktor had combined all these justifications to give him an air of credibility. The possibility then occurred to you that Jayce and Viktor, before they came here, had probably rehearsed many times what they had to say in case fools like Tyler found themselves playing the curious.

“The standards have obviously gone down,” Tyler chuckled.

“Tell me about it,” you replied, looking at him almost apologetically, as if just seeing him made you feel sorry for him, so worn out was the little that served as his brain.

“Dearest Nephew!” Bombarded a voice.

Councillor Hoskel himself, then accompanied by what you recognized as Councillor Salo, strode towards your merry little group.

“It seems you have never mentioned such a beauty to be part of your acquaintances.”

The latter's eyes roamed over your figure as his tongue ran over his teeth. The figure was repulsive, one of his ridiculously thin arms against the enormity of his round beer belly nudging Tyler to make the introductions.

“Um,” he suddenly seemed to have lost his good-for-nothing tongue.

“Revealing our identity at a masquerade would defy the very principle of it,” Viktor sighed, exchanging a glance with you.

You had to play along, take on the etiquette of the discussion for an evening. “Exactly,” you declared with a tense smile that you offered to the trio of troublemakers.

“Is this your date?” Hoskel pointed, his slender finger unwinding from his flute to point at Viktor.

“Pardon?” you questioned, close to choking on your own spit.

“For tonight, is this young man your date?” he corrected. “Unless fate has miraculously brought you together with stylists,” he remarked with a greasy laugh.

Exchanging glances with Viktor and your two outfits, it was almost impossible not to notice the fact that, subconsciously, you'd been matching. Anyone seeing you side by side like that might have wondered about it, and the thought brought what you presumed was shame to your cheeks.

“Oh, no,” you laughed nervously. “Sorry, I did not understand.”

He shrugged and nodded arrogantly. “It's normal, pretty and intelligent is rare.”

You suppressed the urge to throw the contents of your flute in his face, given that he himself seemed not to be on his first one for a while now, and decided instead to play in his own court. “Yes, when ugly and stupid is quite common.”

Tyler's gaze narrowed as much as his uncle's and Councillor Salo's as Viktor lowered his head, a small smile spreading across his lips as he glanced at you from the side.

“Funny,” Hoskel struck a slight pose as he watched you, ”how being behind a mask gives you wings.”

You raised your chin, squinting your eyes as if looking down on him. “Funny how multiplying champagne flutes does so as well, only...” your eyes drifted to his red nose then his belly full of booze, ”one remains hidden better than the other.”

Hoskel seemed to chew air, grinding his teeth together as he grunted dully.

“My my,” Salo tilted his head down as his eyes remained on you, straightening, ”that's a sharp little one we have here with us tonight.” He cleared his throat, raising his gloved hand to point at the sky as if preparing to lecture. “Take care not to make a woman cry because gods count her tears. Whereas when a woman's up to something, the devil sits at his desk and takes notes.”

“A citation?” remarked Viktor, destitute as he was of a champagne flute while his free hand let only his thumb protrude from his pants pocket.

“From one of my books,” said Salo, proudly, resting his hand on his chest.

Viktor didn't seem any more enchanted than that to be taking part in the discussion, but no doubt had to try to find some fictional interest in all that was being told. “Do you write?”

Salo took a sip of his champagne, swallowing it quickly enough to respond with airy hand movements. “The Gods kindly offer me the first verse. What is difficult is to write the next ones which will be worthy of their supernatural brothers."

You brought your flute close to your lips. “Yes, otherwise who'd write the scripts for beggars,” you mumbled, before taking only one more sip.

Viktor huffed. Salo frowned, not seeming to have distinctly heard your words. “I beg your pardon?”

You swallowed, pressing your lips together to collect the rest of the contents of your sip. “Yes?”

“I don't think I quite heard what you said a moment ago.”

You thought you wouldn't be heard, your eyes shifting from Salo to Viktor for a moment before returning to the counselor and closing your eyes, a nervous smile spreading across your lips as you tried again to be diplomatic.

So you tried a graceful exit, shaking your head. “I think the champagne bubbles must have started their little rise, I'm thinking of getting some air to release them.” Just before leaving, you repeated the formula you'd heard so many times this evening. “If you'll excuse me.”

You looked at them one last time, lingering a moment longer on Viktor's gaze as you left for one of the balconies.

The night air bit into your cheeks like apples, the winter coolness slapping you in sharp contrast to the warmth inside. The cool air filled your lungs and you thought for a moment you'd end up frozen from the inside out. There was no wind, just the muted calm of the cold and the murmur of the city below.

You stepped forward, placing your glass on the edge of the balcony. You didn't care if it fell, if it flew away, if a pigeon shat in it. The mere fact that the crystal of this flute had touched the lips of so many people who had destroyed so much hope for your own made you want to grab it by its stem yourself and send it waltzing off to the stars.

You brought your hands to your arms, as much to prevent yourself from needlessly accessing this hatred as to gain warmth. Your eyes watched the horizon, the lights of Piltover in every window. How many knew what their consumption was bringing from the other end of the river? Your gaze drifted towards the latter, the lights much dimmer as they gleamed from the very bowels of the city. You thought back to Eris's letter for a moment, but what did she want to talk to you about?

Your hips touched the guardrail, your fingers running over Tyler's previous grip as if to dust off any DNA that had settled there. It was a good thing Viktor had arrived, or Tyler's nose would surely have had a few stitches.

A warmth rose in the back of your neck, familiar from Viktor's breath when he'd saved you from a nasty fall in the library. He'd gone ahead and helped you. There seemed to be this mutual recognition, this acceptance that, whatever happened, you were there to take the lead from each other.

Your hand instinctively went to the back of your neck, trying to banish this feeling, or to recover it on your fingers in the hope of getting a little warm comfort. Was this a reaction to the trauma of his presence? Surely it could be, unless shame had crept under your skin and lingered there.

You drew your fingers up slightly until you found the string of your mask, undoing it and letting the fresh air spread over your face.

The distinct tinkle of a cane snapped you out of your thoughts, and you didn't even need to turn around to know who it was.

“You've left me in the lurch of a thorny conversation.” he said, his voice warm in the night air as he approached you, staying a reasonable distance to your left.

You sketched a smile, not yet turning towards him as you watched a fictitious dot in the distance. “What were they discussing?”

You felt him remove his mask, dropping the loop of black ribbon holding it to dangle from the handle of his cane. “I left as soon as they'd mentioned the matter of therapeutic obstinacy.”

“A discussion like that should have had you hanging on to their every word,” you joked, finally turning your head towards him.

The prince of the night offered you his profile, his darkened eyes watching the horizon in the distance. He had a presence that froze you, a power so strong that it held you in place. You felt worthy of being the rival of a man like him. But were you still assuming this title?

“I think I'll let Tyler take it from here,” he smiled softly, turning to you.

His amber eyes planted themselves in yours, and you only managed to support it for a few seconds before your eyes drifted to his shoulders.

“You...” you breathed in, observing his elegant, sophisticated outfit, ”you look nice.”

He parted his lips, tilting his head slightly to one side as he squinted with a slight smile.

“Was that a compliment, miss?” he questioned.

“Don't get used to it,” you sighed, rolling your eyes, then reaching for your champagne flute, ”this is a special occasion after all.”

You brought your drink to your lips, the sensation of champagne making you feel a little freer, a little lighter and able to loosen your tongue to say or accept things you'd normally refuse.

You could feel his gaze on you in your peripheral vision, skirting the length of your body, your back illuminated by the interior of the room while the rest of your dress looked like a piece cut straight from the night that embraced you.

“That colour,” he began, his gaze drifting back to the horizon, ”it suits you.”

You thought back to what he'd said what seemed like an eternity ago. ‘It's beautiful, it's calm, in lavender as well as plum, in cassis as well as grape, in wisteria as well as... whatever, it's the one I prefer.’

It's the one I prefer.

You tried not to dwell on that thought, to move on.

“Who'd have thought Tyler would come all this way to bother us?” you huffed.

Viktor chuckled lightly. “He can't get enough of us.”

“I've rarely seen anyone scrape so deep into the depths of incompetence.”

“I believe you've met his uncle, though,” Viktor remarked. “And he, so far, holds a place on the Piltover council.”

“I guess it runs in the family to fall victim to one's own mediocrity.”

“And you had the gift of reminding them of it.”

You smiled, regaining his gaze for a moment. “Don't tell me you didn't want to either.”

He shrugged, pretending to think about it. “Yes, although I must applaud the success of your execution.”

“Would that be a compliment, Moravec?” you stressed.

He earned your gaze, eyes crinkled with a slight sneer. “Like you said - this is a special occasion after all.”

You nodded, shaking your head as if it were a song you'd heard too many times already.

A moment of silence passed, a slight quiver taking hold of you as the hour advanced and the air grew fresher and fresher.

“I've been thinking about the clauses for our truce.”

You turned towards him, arms again crossed as if to hold any ounce of warmth close to your body.

You smirked, grabbing your flute as if to help you listen to him and make those decisions.

“I'm listening.”

“Firstly,” he began, ”we shan't have any rivalry that doesn't engender some obsession pushing us into critical health situations.”

You rolled your eyes. “That was a one-time thing-”

“That is my first clause,” he cut in, his kohl-rimmed eyes insisting on the fact. “Second, mutual aid. If one of us experiences a difficulty somewhere, they must share it with the other, no matter how big their ego and pride.”

“Well that's going to be easy,” you sighed, pressing the crown of your flute close to your lower lip.

“Thirdly,” Viktor straightened up, tilting his head slightly forward as if in a short bow, ”let's be friends.”

You pressed your lips together, considering the offer truly.

Was there even a downside to becoming friends with Viktor? Besides the fact that you had to question your animosity towards him since the beginning of the year, what were the pros and cons?

Sure, he could get on your nerves in discussions, but it had been ages since you'd tried your hand at verbal jousting so constantly, and you were beginning to get used to it.

But apart from that, he wasn't a threat, he was inclined towards progress and advancement rather than stagnation and stubbornness, and he'd already considered you friends for a while, if you went back to Agrane's attribution of detention where he'd wished to come to your defense.

Besides, he was from Zaun - few students here could say as much and understand you on certain points.

“Agreed,” you replied, and his shoulders relaxed slightly. “But be careful, don't expect me to hop like a flower around you.” You huffed. “Jayce has already had to chase me around for quite a while before I'd officially consider him a friend.”

He shrugged, pressing his lips together slightly as if indifferent.

“That's fine by me. Fourthly,” he continued, ”clauses can be added in the future. Of course, they won't be imposed and can be discussed.”

You arch an eyebrow, huffing. “Do you have many more clauses?

“Do you agree to this one?” he asked, frowning.

You looked at him for a moment. This seemed to be very close to his heart. “Yes.”

“Good.” he smiled.

“Is that all?”

His eyes trailed over your shoulders for a moment. “Just one last one.”

He set his cane down against the marble railing, unclipping one of the pins that held the chain holding his coat to his back. He pinched the shoulders of it, taking a single step towards you to place it on yours, pressing his hands lightly on them as you felt the warmth his back had spread over the fabric against your own. He took care, with his long, slender, cool fingers, to reattach the chain neatly.

“My last clause for tonight is for you not to get cold,” he said, his voice more tender as he took a step back as if to observe the vision you were. “Luckily, we wore the same color.”

You took one of the sides in your hands, bringing it close to you to cover yourself with it.

“Won't you get cold?” you asked.

He shrugged, regaining the grip of his cane as his eyes remained on your coat-covered figure. “If you think Jayce won't get rid of his coat at some point this evening, you're wrong.”

You crack a smile, wondering what would happen if Jayce overindulged in champagne and Viktor had to go home with him tonight. Unless, of course, Jayce and Mel ended the evening together. He slipped on his mask again, replacing it gracefully over his features.

Viktor was getting ready to go back inside, and you didn't know if the magic of champagne bubbles was making you say things, or if out of sheer urge you were calling him.

“Viktor?”

He turned to you for a moment, one part of his face bathed in the warm light of the interior while the other remained in the night like a crescent moon.

You parted your lips, the simple two words coming pouring out without doubt or regret.

“Thank you.”

He seemed amazed, even with his mask over his face. But the astonishment quickly gave way to a softening, until his lips stretched into a smile and he stepped back inside.

Some people won't get any magic words out of you, but Viktor was worthy of them. You brought the collar of his coat close to you. His scent was sweeter than you'd expected, that of sun-warmed stone mingling with a lingering coffee fragrance.

Your eyes returned to the city, the vision of his kingdom, of streets he would split with his cane to hit the color purple on their cream walls.

It's the one I prefer.

The evening had come to an end. You had tried to fit into some of the conversation circles that came and went as time went by, remaining mostly silent and listening without interjecting, laughing when they laughed, nodding when they nodded, and trying not to simply stuff yourself with petits fours.

You'd thought of finding a way to take a handful with you so you'd have a little variety to bring back to give Sky a taste of how the evening was going. But you expected that, of course, you'd be looked at strangely for this behavior if you went through with it.

Some of the guests began to leave one by one, and you took the opportunity to do the same. Jayce, Mel and Viktor seemed nowhere to be found, so you dropped the idea of venturing into such a building in search of them. Who knows what you might stumble upon in the surrounding rooms? You didn't want to accidentally walk in on the feverish one-night stands of the guests, so you just took off.

The city had been asleep for some time, and the quiet yet illuminated streets were deserted. Had it been Zaun, venturing out at such an hour of the night in such an outfit would have been worth a lot of trouble. But Piltover had real rules of respect and a very different general upbringing, so you didn't feel in any danger of advancing like that.

Your heels were starting to hurt seriously and you would have given anything to be carried home. But there was no vigilante Jayce in sight to catch you if you fainted, nor any gentleman gallant enough to carry you like a princess.

How nice it was to be looked after, to have someone take care of you simply because they could.

The memory of Viktor dozing beside you as you recovered came to mind a moment before you chased him away as you turned a corner. Viktor's scent had permeated your nostrils all evening, and it was the only familiar, reassuring thing that kept you going.

The vision of the dormitories appearing in your line of sight was the greatest relief of all.

You passed silently through the doors of the building, taking the opportunity to remove your heels and sighing at ease as the soles of your feet finally settled on a surface that didn't need to be arched.

You slowly climbed the stairs, the soft feel of the red carpet almost tickling your feet as you inserted your key into the lock. It was late, perhaps Sky had not stayed awake and had gone to bed, and you had no wish to disturb her peace.

You turned the knob, entering the still-lit apartment, Sky lying on her bed with a book. Her eyes turned to you, her mouth opening wide as she looked at your outfit, which she hadn't had a chance to see. You smiled, closing the door behind you and dropping your heels to the floor.

“Girl,” she'd chuckled, watching you as you took off the coat and folded it neatly to let it hang over your arm like a waiter's towel, ”give me a twirl.”

You performed, spinning around before finishing with an exaggerated supermodel pause that made Sky laugh.

She snapped her book shut and sat cross-legged on her bed. “I need every detail you can give me.”

You picked up a hanger in the dressing room, hanging Viktor's coat which you hoped to return in the next few days before returning to Sky and sitting down with her to tell her all about it.

She had you turning your back to her, helping you remove the few decorations in your hair as you described everything to her. The hall, the dresses, the atmosphere, all the endless discussions, your meeting with the famous Mel Medarda, your altercation with Tyler and his idiot uncle.

“In any case, you didn't miss a thing. Apart from a few exceptions, the room was filled with the heads of bankers who hadn't gotten laid for twenty years.”

She laughed softly, pausing in the unraveling of your hair, her eyes watching a point in the void.

“Doesn't it make you dream a bit?”

You turned to her, confused. “To be a banker who looks like she hasn't gotten laid in twenty years?”

“No,” she chirped, giving you a little nudge on the shoulder, ”the mystery of the masquerade, the richness of being able to organize such an event without having to worry about much?”

You rested your head on her shoulder, pondering her question for a moment. Finally, you raised your head, staring into space.

“I think I would rather spend my life close to the birds than waste my time thinking I can carve myself wings.”

Sky sighed, probably dreaming of the golden life of the princes and princesses the world inhabited and longing for more. You didn't envy them - you felt scorn for their privileges and their inability to act for change. But you had no intention of crushing your friend's hopes.

“Who knows, maybe one day you'll be one of them and laugh as you drink champagne with infinite bubbles.”

She smiled softly, wrapping an arm around you.

You didn't tell her about your discussion on the balcony with Viktor, preferring to keep your exchange a secret for the time being. perhaps you'd bring up the subject when she asked you where the dress and coat came from.

But for now, you kept the secret of the purple close to you.

It's the one I prefer.

✦﹒ previous chapter ✦﹒ next chapter

taglist : @doctorho @6selkie @yunloyal @kryscent @hypocritic-trash-baby @kapitankarate @a-lovers-card @ababanerb @lolixsstuff @forget-me-not-my-dear @smolanchovy @shugar0cone0alt @harrys--ferret-blog @suuummerrr @stillinracooncity @noxturnalmoth @dlbitch @cloufire @csolya @kathyholdsagrudge @furblrwurblr @potatointhedirt @atrocioushaircut @ren-ni @schrodingersraven @urmommt @enoojnij @stilinskisensation @emlovesya @soupsaurus @luvreadingfics @the-valars-sapphire @solbringer @adorabluesposts

#a crown of ink #acoi #arcane #arcane x reader #viktor #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #arcane viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x your #viktor fic #viktor fanfic #arcane fanfic

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solarisfortuneia · 10 months ago

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— 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞.

✦ in need of a kiss? well, feel free to pick an experience from our finest collection! perhaps you’ll find one suited perfectly to your tastes?

(or, in other words, the types of kisses they give, and what it’s like to kiss them.)

✦ featuring: aventurine, dr. ratio, jing yuan.

✦ warnings: very kiss focused, not proofread.

✦ notes: these characters with this concept were particularly inspiring today, so i jotted down a little something really quick (might add more characters later in a pt. 2 later? idk)

also forgive me for any characterization errors please i'm still studying them

aventurine.

his kisses are greedy.

he’s greedy, far too greedy, and selfish to boot— he wants everything you have to give, all for himself. he tastes like a burst of citrus on your tongue, always, always keeping you on your toes, his lips sneakily capturing everything they can, right down to the slightest sound that leaves your lips.

he wants as much of you as he can possibly get, and he’s perfectly capable of drawing it all out from you, bit by bit. he just needs the right bargaining chip, and he has it already, doesn’t he?

a kiss, for a kiss.

a fair trade, wouldn’t you say?

(he doesn’t make deals that don’t pay off, after all. and this thing he’s doing with you? well, it sure is raking in the profits.)

veritas ratio.

dr. ratio doesn’t do things in half measures. when he kisses you, it’s all or nothing; he will put his all into it.

he doesn’t confine himself to your lips, either. the philosophy is simple: what kind of learning would one hope to achieve by limiting themselves?

his hands travel all over, learning the wheres, the whens and the hows, almost as if he’s trying to see how you tick, while his lips embark on a journey of their own across the skin of your face, your jaw and your neck.

he kisses with diligence and precision and passion, meticulous and methodical, quickly adapting his methods to even the slightest of hints you send his way. every action he does is intentional and deliberate, so why should this be any different?

oh, but make no mistake, for all his versatility and straightforwardness, he will not make it easy for you to keep up with him.

but you can take a challenge, can’t you?

jing yuan.

he is gentle, he is soft, he is slow— he kisses in the way that honey flows; lazy, languid, almost hypnotizing, like he has all the time in the world. he savors you the same way he savors the tea that lends his lips the subtle bitterness they carry, but they taste sweet all the same.

when he pulls away, a smile graces his face, one that lights up his eyes with adoration. soft as they are, they still command your undivided attention with the way you cannot seem to tear your gaze away from him. his hands still remain on your person though, holding you impossibly close.

and when he tenderly cradles your face in his palms, worries evaporate into air, thoughts slip away to spaces unknown, and moments stretch into lifetimes.

#—🖋#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #dr. ratio x reader #dr. ratio x you #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you

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willowsnook · 1 month ago

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Wouldn't have it any other way

rye with salami, ranch, and mikes way please and thank you! (idk if i did that right, i've never done this before)

jack hughes x reporter!reader

she isn’t you

——————————————————

Working as a reporter covering the NHL was a childhood dream of yours that came true. You worked your ass off in college, having internships each summer which led to an opportunity at ESPN that turned full-time after you graduated. You were ecstatic when they moved you to New Jersey to cover the Devils. It had been six months and so far you had gotten along well with all the players…well except one.

“Ya we got whacked two games in a row, so the last thing you want to do is stand and talk in front of you guys,” Jack Hughes told the small group of reporters crowding his locker, you included. You rolled your eyes which didn’t go unnoticed.

“Something to say, sweetheart?,” he said, eyes honing in on you.

You felt your cheeks flush with anger at his condescending tone. "It's our job to ask questions, Hughes. If you can't handle that, maybe you should find a new career."

The locker room fell silent, all eyes darting between you and Jack. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing as he stepped closer.

"And maybe you should find a new team to cover if you can't handle a little attitude," he shot back.

The tension was palpable. You'd butted heads with Jack since day one, his arrogance rubbing you the wrong way. But this felt different, more charged.

"I can handle you," you replied, holding his gaze. "Question is, can you handle the heat when you're not performing on the ice?"

A collective intake of breath from the other reporters. Jack's eyes flashed dangerously.

"That's enough," the Devils’ PR manager said, ushering the reporters out of the locker room. You shot Jack one last glare as you followed the rest of the pool out. You knew you were going to get your ass chewed by your boss but you couldn’t help it. Jack was infuriating.

Unfortunately, your phone rang the second you were out of the arena and you listened to your boss rant at you. The moment was apparently already blowing up on social media and it was not a good look for you or Jack really. Half of the internet said you were too young to be in your job and wildly unprofessional while the other half defended you, calling Jack a dick who needs to respect women. There was another weird fan side of hockey twitter that were now actively shipping the two of you together, claiming it could be a perfect enemies-to-lovers story.

—————————————————————-

Headphones in, you watched workers out the window as they loaded luggage onto your plane. New Jersey to Vancouver was a long flight so you had splurged, upgrading yourself to first class to try maybe and get some actual sleep. The seat next to you was still empty and as the time ticked by you grew more hopeful that it would remain that way but nothing good lasts forever.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” a voice called out next to you and you looked up to meet the eyes of none other than Jack Hughes.

Your heart sank as Jack glared down at you, his tall frame looming over your seat. Of all the people to be stuck next to for a cross-country flight, it had to be him.

“Why aren’t you flying with the team?” You questioned.

“I overslept and missed the flight,” he muttered and you snorted.

Jack huffed as he stowed his carry-on and slid into the seat beside you. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. You both sat rigidly, avoiding eye contact as the rest of the passengers boarded.

As the plane began to move, you couldn't help but sneak a glance at Jack. His jaw was clenched, hands gripping the armrests tightly. Was he... nervous?

"You okay there, Hughes? Not scared of flying, are you?" you teased, unable to resist.

He shot you a withering look. "I'm fine.”

But as the plane started to take off his breathing grew more rapid and you started to get concerned. You hit a bit of turbulence trying to level out, and Jack’s hand moved towards yours, gripping it tightly.

“Sorry,” he rasped, but you kept your hand in his, caressing his skin softly with your thumb.

“It’s okay,” you murmured. “Just try and breathe.”

“I’m trying,” he snapped and you rolled his eyes. “I need you to distract me.”

“How?”

“Just tell me something about you I don’t know,” he asked looking over at you pleadingly.

“Hockey isn’t my favorite sport,” you said instantly. It felt like your dirty secret being a hockey reporter, but it was the truth.

Jack let out a strained chuckle, “oh yeah, what is?”

“Football,” you replied and he nodded at you to keep going. “I fell in love with it when I was just a kid watching Brett Farve. Him leaving the Packers was my first real heartbreak in life. I like college football more now and while I love the atmosphere of hockey, there is nothing like a Saturday night home game in the palace. The lights illuminating the fields, the smell of popocorn and hotdogs, the fight song playing in the background, and everyone knows that $20 beer tastes better watching your favorite team. What’s more romantic than that?”

If Jack didn’t have the history he had with you, he thought he might have fell in love with you right then and there. His grip on your hand loosened slightly as he listened to you speak, his breathing becoming more even. He found himself captivated by the passion in your voice as you described your love for football.

"I never would have guessed," he said softly, a hint of a smile on his face. "You always seemed so... intense about hockey."

You shrugged, feeling a bit vulnerable having shared something so personal. "It's my job. I take it seriously."

"Maybe too seriously sometimes," Jack muttered, but there was no real bite to his words.

The plane leveled out and you both realized you were still holding hands. You quickly pulled away, clearing your throat awkwardly.

"Thanks," Jack said, avoiding your gaze. "For, you know... helping me through that."

You nodded, unsure how to respond. This was the most civil conversation you'd ever had with Jack Hughes, and it felt weird. The rest of the flight went by without a spectacle; you were happy to catch some shut-eye, and woke up as you were about to land, Jack nudging you awake. He grabbed your bag for you, and you followed him off the plane, stopping when he turned to face you.

“Back to our regularly scheduled business of hating each other,” he said with a smirk, and you laughed.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way Hughes,” you shot back before heading off.

—————————————————————————

After a long call with your boss the next day, you were very irritated. Since the Devils were playing the Canucks, he wanted a short fluff piece about the Hughes brothers reuniting.

“It won’t be that bad,” Luke said after you tracked him down to tell him about the assignment. “You love me, and Quinn will love you.”

“I’m not worried about you two,” you told him with a look. “I’m worried about your other brother, who makes me want to jump off a cliff.”

“You’re dramatic,” he said, crossing his arms and you huffed. “We are all getting dinner tonight; just come with us. It’ll be a good chance to see us all off the ice.”

Later that night, you find yourself in the lobby with Luke, waiting on his brothers. Dressed down and out of your business wear, you felt more like yourself in a cute white sweater and jeans. Jack stepped out of the elevator and you immediately crossed your arms, already not in a good mood seeing him.

“Why is she here?” He asked Luke, completely ignoring you.

“She is writing a piece on the three of us, so I thought it would be nice to let her see the non-hockey side of things,” Luke explained and Jack groaned. Quinn stuck out his hand to introduce himself, and you smiled warmly at the oldest brother.

“So you’re the one who has little Jack by the balls?” He teased and Jack shoved him while you laughed.

You and Jack didn’t say a word to each other on the way to the restaurant and you luckily ended up being diagonal from him. It was a steakhouse but you weren’t that into steak so you opted for a grilled chicken salad with no tomatoes of course. Remembering that you were here for work, you kept quiet just observing the brothers.

"Remember when Jack tried to dye his hair blonde and it turned orange instead?" Quinn chuckled, earning a glare from Jack.

"Hey, at least I didn't cry when mom cut my mullet," Jack shot back, causing Luke to nearly spit out his drink.

You couldn't help but smile, seeing this different side of Jack. He was more relaxed, his guard down as he joked with his brothers. You caught yourself staring at him a few times, noticing how his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

The waiter soon returned with your food and you sighed as you watched your salad be placed in front of you with the tomatoes you had asked to be left out. You were never one to send something back, so you accepted your fate and unrolled your silverware.

“Everything look good?” The waiter asked. You nodded absentmindedly as Jack opened his mouth.

“She asked for no tomatoes,” he said, pointing to your salad. Your head snapped up and the waiter began to apologize.

“Oh it’s okay,” you said, trying to wave him off but Jack gave you a stern look that made you sit back.

“Don’t like tomatoes?” He mused. “Kind of childish, don’t you think?”

“You literally ordered a lemonade,” you shot back and his eyes narrowed at you.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s every kid’s favorite drink,” you retorted.

Jack scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Sophisticated Palette. Let me guess, you’re a black coffee type, right? So edgy.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your soda. “At least I don’t need a sugar rush to get through lunch.”

“And yet, here you are, drowning in soda. Classy.”

You gestured to his plate with a smug smile. “Says the guy who’s been avoiding the broccoli on his plate like it owes him money.”

Jack’s smirk faltered, and he glanced down at the offending vegetable. “It’s not avoidance. I’m saving the best for last.”

“Sure you are. Must be why it’s still untouched and getting cold.”

“You know, you’re a lot braver with your words when I don’t have a hockey stick in my hands.”

You shot him a fake, sweet smile. “And you’re a lot more tolerable when you keep your mouth shut.”

Quinn and Luke were thoroughly entertained as they observed the back-and-forth banter between you.

“You see what I have to deal with?” Luke said, looking at Quinn once you and Jack had finally stopped.

“Jack finally met his match,” he commented, prompting an eye roll from the mentioned brother.

The rest of the dinner passed with a mix of tension and grudging amusement between you and Jack, while Quinn and Luke kept the conversation flowing. As you all left the restaurant, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret at how quickly you and Jack fell back into your antagonistic pattern.

"So, got enough material for your fluff piece?" Jack asked sarcastically as you walked back to the hotel.

You sighed, "Probably. Though I'm not sure how to write about the Hughes brothers' dynamic without mentioning how insufferable one of them is."

Jack chuckled, surprising you. "Just make sure to mention how charming and handsome that one is too."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "In your dreams, Hughes."

As you reached the hotel, Luke and Quinn said their goodbyes, leaving you and Jack alone in the lobby. An awkward silence lingering in the air between you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” He asked and you gave him a weird look, trying to figure out his angle.

“Where else would I be? I’m always front row waiting for you to mess up,” you joked and he gave you a playful frown.

“Very funny,” he said before bidding you goodbye and going up to his room. Things felt different between the two of you tonight, and you weren’t sure how you felt about it.

———————————————————————-

The Devils beat the Canucks handily and you found yourself with a couple of other reporters waiting for Jack, who had scored, and a new girl that you didn’t recognize.

“Hi Jack,” the girl called out as he got settled and he looked at her amused. She looked like a puck bunny who had snuck in; beach blonde hair, fake spray tan, low cut top, you knew the type. Jesus, what had gotten into you, you thought, trying to shake off your cattiness.

“Hey, haven’t seen you around before,” he commented and she giggled. Literally giggled in response. The other reporters were amused but you kept your lips in a firm line.

“You were so great out there; it’s so impressive how hard you work,” she said and he smiled awkwardly thanking her. “Do you ever get scared when the puck comes at you?"

You couldn’t help but snort out loud when she asked that and Jack looked amused at you.

Jack’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, his smirk growing wider before he turned back to the blonde with a practiced ease.

"So," he said, leaning casually against the bench, "you’re new to the media scrum, huh? They usually send someone more…" He glanced at you briefly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Experienced."

The girl giggled again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh, well, I’m just filling in today. I guess I got lucky getting to talk to you."

"Guess I got lucky too," he said smoothly, his tone playful. "Usually, I’m stuck with—" He cut himself off, letting his eyes flick to you with mock innocence. "Well, people who don’t seem to enjoy the job as much as you do."

Your jaw tightened, but you kept your face neutral, scribbling something completely irrelevant in your notebook to avoid giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.

"So," the blonde continued, practically glowing under his attention, "what’s it like to be so focused all the time? You’re just so… intense on the ice."

Jack chuckled, shaking his head. "Takes a lot of practice. But I don’t think I’m half as intense as you just now."

Her eyes widened, and she laughed, her cheeks turning a shade pinker. "Oh my God, stop! I’m just trying to do my job."

"And you’re doing it very well," he replied, his voice low and charming.

You shut your notebook loudly, drawing Jack’s attention as you stormed out of the locker room, your cheeks flushed with anger and... something else you didn't want to acknowledge. You made it halfway down the hall before you heard footsteps behind you.

"Hey!" Jack's voice called out. "Where are you going?"

You spun around, glaring at him. "Away from that circus. I have actual work to do."

He jogged up to you, a mix of confusion and amusement on his face. "What's your problem? Jealous?"

"Jealous?" You scoffed, crossing your arms. "Of what? Your ability to charm airheads?"

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "Wow, that's pretty harsh. What happened to journalistic integrity?"

"What happened to professionalism?" You shot back. "Or do you always flirt with reporters during interviews?"

His expression shifted, a knowing smirk appearing on his face.

“You are jealous,” he said confidently and you were about to argue back but he grabbed a door handle behind you, yanking the door open and pulling you in it. It was a smaller equipment closet, but you didn’t have much time to look around before Jack had you tight against his body.

“She isn’t you sweetheart,” he said as your body flushed against his.

Your breath caught in your throat as Jack's words sank in. The closet suddenly felt much smaller, the air thick with tension. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his chest rising and falling against yours.

"What are you doing, Hughes?" you managed to whisper, your voice betraying your conflicted emotions.

His eyes searched yours, intense and unreadable. "Something I've wanted to do for a long time," he murmured before closing the distance between you.

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and insistent. For a moment, you were too shocked to respond. But then, as if a switch had been flipped, you found yourself kissing him back with equal fervor. Your hands tangled in his hair as his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

The kiss was everything you never knew you wanted - passionate, electrifying, and months of frustration bubbling over. His hands moved under your shirt and up your back as his touch burned your skin. Resting your head back against the wall, he took advantage, latching on to your neck, sucking harshly.

“More,” you gasped. “I need more.”

He pulled your shirt over your head and you unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes glazed over, looking at your chest and you smirked before tugging at his shirt. He lifted it off and you admired his toned body, tracing your finger down his abs. His breath hitched as he watched you and you smirked seeing the bulge against his sweats get bigger.

Jack's eyes darkened as he watched your finger trail down his abs. In one swift motion, he lifted you up, pressing you against the wall as your legs wrapped around his waist. His lips found yours again in a searing kiss as his hips ground against you, eliciting a soft moan from your throat.

"God, you drive me crazy," he breathed against your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

Your hands roamed his broad shoulders and back, relishing the feeling of his muscles flexing under your touch. Jack's mouth moved lower, trailing hot kisses down your collarbone to your breasts. You arched into him as he took a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

"Jack," you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair. He looked up at you, a mix of lust and something softer. “I need you in me.”

“Let me savor this sweetheart,” he pouted and you shook your head.

“Not the time or place,” you argued back and he sighed. Pulling down his pants, you spit into your hand before bringing it to his cock, pumping a few times, causing him to hiss. Shimmying out of your pants, you let him lift you against the wall, angling himself at your entrance.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

“Just this once,” you said and he rolled his eyes.

“We’ll see,” he replied and you started to argue back but he pushed in and your head fell forward onto his shoulder.

Jack began to move, thrusting into you with a steady rhythm. You clung to his shoulders, biting back moans as he hit just the right spot with each stroke. The closet filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing and the slap of skin on skin.

"God, you feel amazing," Jack groaned, his pace increasing. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, urging him deeper.

"Harder," you demanded, nails digging into his back. He complied, slamming into you with renewed vigor.

The tension that had been building between you for months was finally finding release. Every thrust, every touch was electric. You couldn't get enough of him.

"I'm close," you panted, feeling the familiar tightening in your core. Jack slipped a hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he urged and you cried out, his hand coming up to muffle the noise. Riding out your orgasm, you were clenching hard around him and he grunted as he kept up the pace, pounding into you.

As your walls continued to contract around him, Jack couldn't hold back any longer. He buried his face in your neck, groaning out your name as he spilled into you.

For a few moments, all that could be heard was your heavy breathing as you both came down from the intense high. Jack leaned his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your skin. You both took a few minutes to catch your breath before Jack slowly pulled out of you. You winced slightly and Jack gave you a concerned look. He handed you your clothes and you quickly put them back on, refusing to look at him.

“Y/n,” he said softly and you finally looked over at him. His face was flushed, hair all over the place, but the look he was giving you made you want to take your clothes right back off.

“This was just two people blowing off steam, nothing more,” you said and he grinned widely.

“Oh, so you won’t mind if I hook up with that other girl next time instead?” He asked and you frowned before quickly morphing into a neutral expression but Jack had already caught it.

“Ugh,” you exclaimed before opening the door slowly, peeking out before you walked out. Jack was right behind you and you thought the coast was clear until you walked right into Quinn and Luke. You froze and felt Jack still behind you as he saw his brothers.

“What were you two doing?” Luke asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

“We were just talking,” you defended, not meeting his eyes.

“Oh yeah? In the supply closet?” Quinn teased.

“It was quieter than the locker room,” Jack said.

“Didn’t sound that quiet,” Quinn shot back.

Your face burned with embarrassment as Quinn's words sank in. You couldn't bring yourself to look at Jack or his brothers, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

"I... I have to go," you mumbled, pushing past Luke and Quinn without meeting their eyes. You practically ran down the hallway, desperate to distance yourself and the Hughes brothers as much as possible.

Once safely in your hotel room, you collapsed onto the bed, burying your face in your hands. What had you done? Hooking up with Jack Hughes in a supply closet was bad enough, but getting caught by his brothers? Your career could be over if word got out.

Your phone buzzed with a text. Hesitantly, you checked it, half-expecting it to be Jack. Instead, it was from Luke:

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with us. But you might want to figure your shit out with Jack ;)”

You groaned, turning over, trying not to think about what happened in the closet or what it meant for you and Jack.

#nhl imagine #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine

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dollfaceksj · 11 months ago

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still don’t know my name | jjk (m) pt. 3

➥ banner by: @/archivedkookie.

➥ PAIRING: jungkook x fem!reader

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ cybersex ⋆ enemies

➥ SUMMARY: In which your annoying neighbor—that you can’t stand—turns out to be the person behind the online account you’ve been sexting. You still don’t know his name.

➥ CATEGORY: mini three-shot

➥ WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, spanking, spitting, facefucking, brat taming, face slapping, overstimulation, unprotected sex (THIS IS REALLY DUMB DONT DO IT), creampie, degradation, praise, name calling (slut/bitch 😵‍💫 first time a man calls a woman a bitch in my fics but i felt like it fit in this IDK?) choking, kissing (kind of … pining???!!??) oral sex (m & f rec.), minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 8.6k

a/n: the finale is here😘😘 sorry it took so long! i hope u enjoy nonetheless 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

make sure to check out eli’s version too!

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢

#3 — “game on” [finale]

There he is, obstructing your view completely.

Considering his raw beauty, one might argue that he is the view.

Arms outstretched above his head, hands resting against the doorframe as he looks down at you. With his arms raised like this, you can smell his deodorant. He smells quite nice.

Looks like he’s caging you. Keeping you trapped. Like the villain in a video game with outstanding graphics. You understand people who have a crush on animated characters because he looks ethereal.

The teasing glint in his eyes matches the mischievous one in yours. Like a dance battle that’s been going on for ages and you’re getting closer and closer to the finale. You can basically taste it.

It’s quiet for a few moments aside from your synced breathing. Neither of you seem to be willing to speak.

That is, until you realize that it’s ass o’clock and time isn’t exactly on your side. The decision to break the ice follows you swiftly. “Do you really have no respect for your fellow tenants?”

Acting like you don’t know why he’s here is the only way you can deal with the pounding muscular organ in your chest. It’s pumping blood to the rest of your body at immense speed, heating up your entire body in the process.

But you asked for this. You asked what the hell he was waiting for.

And it’s clear he was waiting on you.

He tilts his head to the side. Stifles a smirk. Raises an eyebrow. Shrugs his shoulders. He looks so smug. You want to punch him.

He clears his throat and looks around the corridor nonchalantly before he decides to give you an answer. “I have a lot of respect for my fellow tenants, actually. I just don’t see you as one.”

Your eyes pingpong between his from left to right, mesmerized by the big black tapioca pearls above his flushed cheeks that are intently staring you down.

“What do you see me as, then?” you ask, quietly yet as bitchy as you can. Arms crossed over your chest. Impatiently tapping your foot against the floor which creates a ticking sound, much like a clock.

Like he’s losing time and once the clock goes off, it’s game over. So much for a Gameboy.

His tongue peeks out from the corner of his mouth and swipes along his bottom lip, toying with his glistening lip rings for a moment.

If that was an attempt to get you to stare at his lips, he succeeded. Weak!

Staring at his lips throws you into a trance and you really wonder what it would be like to have those pressing down on yours. Shut you up. Make you melt into him.

“Granny. Annoying. Loud-mouth. Obnoxious. Rude,” he lists. Your eyes squint at him but before you can even respond, he cuts you off. “Spoiled brat that needs to be put in her place.”

Never mind.

You want to kill him.

You bring your shoulders up in an unbothered shrug. “Bet you won’t.”

Your witty words make him stare at you for a moment longer before he drops his head and humorlessly chuckles, shaking it in disbelief and bouncing his shoulders at that which he finds humorous.

You know he likes it, though.

He raises his head again. Stares at you. Drops his eyes to your pretty lips. Trails your lipline. Lets his gaze linger on your cupid’s bow. Shifts his eyes back to your feigned innocent eyes.

The simple act of his eyes never leaving you has your body heating up. As if lava is pumping through your veins. As if his body is pressed up right against yours. As if every small move you make is equal to putting a handful of sand in your mouth whilst you’re standing underneath the scorching hot sahara desert sun.

“Are you challenging me?” he asks, voice low as if he’s worried other people will hear him.

Ah.

There it is.

The first between you two to acknowledge what’s really going on.

You figured it’d be him anyway.

Now it’s your turn to acknowledge it.

“Not a challenge,” you answer with a slight shake to your head. “An invitation,” you clarify, mischievous eyes still glued to his figure. Consent comes first, after all.

The staring competition lasts just a little while longer. He then straightens his back and drops his hands from the frame of your door. Wastes no time stepping into your apartment. Shuts the door behind him with his foot.

Or at least that’s what you think because the speed in which he lunges at you makes you unsure of anything happening right now.

The momentum of his lunge at you knocks you back but he’s not letting you get away that easily.

One of his hands rests on the back of your head as his lips press down on yours like two magnets finding solace with each other. Your own hand slithers up his chest, nails digging into his shoulder. Some in the fabric of his shirt, some in his burning skin.

No matter how cool he plays it, he’s burning up much like you are.

He keeps walking, backing you further into your apartment until you’re pressed up against a wall. Trapped. Caged.

His tattooed fingers drape around your neck, pulling you closer to his body, closing the gap. Squeezes your throat like he’s afraid you’re going to somehow vanish into thin air.

He presses his lips down on yours even harder. Rougher. Uses his other hand to squeeze your hip. Grunts against your mouth.

Your other hand travels up his body to his bicep. Rests there. Squeezes. His arm is rock hard.

His lips parting makes you copy him, welcoming his tongue into your mouth. His wet muscle massages against yours, rough and needy. He tastes like mint. Must be his toothpaste.

He slowly starts pushing you towards your room and you assume he knows where it is because it’s the same layout as his apartment.

He pushes you until your calves hit the side of your bed. Makes you fall down. You grip his shirt to pull him down with you. He’s on top of you in no time.

He kisses you like he’s got somewhere to be. Pulls his tongue back just to mumble something. You don’t quite understand.

“Hm?” you hum, encouraging him to repeat himself.

He pulls back. “Safeword,” he mumbles again before pecking your lips once more, eyes glued to your mouth.

You stare at him as he pecks your lips continuously, your eyes so big and doe-like. “Uh…” You’re not sure what kind of a safeword would work. Your mind is blank.

He whispers, “Just say something. Anything.”

Anything?

“Butterfly.”

Butterfly? Really? Couldn’t come up with anything else?

“Butterfly?” he echoes.

“Butterfly,” you repeat.

He nods in confirmation and travels his hand down to your hip, dangerously close to the curve of your ass as he presses his lips against yours again in a hungry kiss.

All he needs is a little push.

You give him the little push.

Your hand reaches for your hip, shoving his palm further down your back until it’s resting on your ass.

You pull back from the kiss this time. “You wanna know my safeword but you still don’t know my name.”

He pinches his brows together. Stares at your lips. Looks like he wants to do nothing more than kiss you for years on end.

He brings his shoulders up in a nonchalant shrug. “I like calling you Angel.”

Ah.

Your own eyes drop down to his lips, black pupils trailing his wide cupid’s bow that’s begging to be kissed. “Thought it didn’t make any sense to you.” Your eyes shoot back up to look him dead in the eye. “You know, because I’m far from being angelic?”

He stares at you for a few seconds. Maybe half a minute. Intense eyes pingpong-ing back and forth between your own as if the answers to what goes on in your brain is written in them.

He slowly starts to nod his head. Scrunches up his nose for a split second before he tears his eyes away from you to stare at the wall in your room, at nothing in particular. It’s only then that you notice that he’s been closing the gap between your bodies and you’re only noticing due to the body heat radiating off of him.

He turns his head back to face you but avoids your eyes. Instead he tilts his head down, presses his lips against your neck in a soft kiss. He licks. Nips. Sucks. “Hm. I quite like contradictions, though,” whispers Gameboy.

You’re not sure what he means by it.

“Contradictions?” you echo as you tilt your head to the side, granting him more access to any skin he desires. You try to keep yourself from moaning but to no avail, so your new goal is to not be embarrassed by your heavy breathing and quiet moaning.

“Hm,” he hums in confirmation. All it does is send a shiver down your spine and makes your thighs clench. “You’re my favorite contradiction. Wanna give you nothing yet everything at the same time.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes dramatically, in hopes that he won’t be able to tell how that confession made your heart drum out of control in your chest. You can’t stand how he always knows what to say to get a reaction out of you.

You inquire, “What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he abruptly pauses as he pushes himself off you, resting his ass on his heels. His hands wrap around the back of your knees, adding strength to push them all the way to your chest. Has you almost folded up into a human pretzel.

“Hey, I have joints!” You try to sound angry but you’re barely fighting back. Way to stand your ground.

“It means that I want to fuck the shit out of you but I also don’t want to give you the satisfaction.” He angles his hips in a way that makes his pelvis grind right into yours. It’s hard to ignore the rock hard boner rubbing against your sex and you’ve never hated wearing clothes more than you do at this moment.

“Like so.” He begins to thrust his hips into yours, eyes glued to the way the bulge in his sweatpants rocks against the seam of your leggings that’s located right on top of your pussy.

He starts dry humping you, brows furrowed in concentration. Sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. Finally looks into your eyes. “The only thing a slut like you deserves.”

Oh.

“Don’t you agree?” he whispers, eyes shifting up to yours—finally. Bottom lip still trapped between his teeth and cheeks tinted crimson.

He looks unreal. Ethereal.

A soft moan bubbles up the back of your throat at the sensation and it escapes your mouth before you can catch it.

But his words don’t slip your mind.

You squint your eyes at him. “Fuck you.”

Yeah, sure… that’ll show him.

It happens so fast. You don’t even realize it happened until after your lips have started stinging and a gasp has unintentionally ripped through your throat.

Did he just… slap your mouth?

He did.

Your hooded eyes shoot open and your brows pinch together, unable to ignore the tingle on your lips from the smack he’s left behind on them.

“You think you’re in any position to run your mouth, you stupid brat?” He doesn’t wait for a response from you and simply shoves his thumb past your lips, confident that you’ll happily welcome it.

Unfortunately, you do.

You welcome the tip of his thumb into your mouth, eyes still piercing into his. His eyebrow twitches when you swirl your tongue around it. Gently suck on it. Quietly moan at it.

His eyes stay glued to your face and he can’t seem to decide what he wants to focus on. Your pretty eyes that are lost in his as if you’re the most innocent creature on Earth or your pouty lips that are beautifully wrapped around the tip of his thumb like you’re the sluttiest whore with his dick in your mouth.

Either way, you’re a complete contradiction. How you manage to look so innocent yet so seductive seems like a mystery to him.

One he intends to solve.

He pulls his thumb out of your mouth with a loud pop and places his hands next to each side of your head.

He continues to dry hump you at the same pace but the strength behind his thrusts has changed. He’s snapping his hips so hard into yours that it makes your entire frame jerk from the momentum every time your bodies collide.

He grunts quietly. Shakes his head. “Shit, shit.” His eyes drop down to your lips for a few seconds before back into your eyes. “I need to fuck you.”

Dry humping you for barely 2 minutes and he’s already going back on his word?

You can’t help but provoke him. “I thought you said a slut like me didn’t deserve that? I could be wrong.”

He rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek, deeply contemplating something as his teeth pick at the loose flesh on his lips. After a few more seconds of mindlessly staring at you, he pushes himself off you. He gets up before he straightens his back and hoists you up, pulling you off the bed and onto your feet in one swift move.

He doesn’t even need to ask.

You instantly drop to your knees, eyes staring up at him.

He taps your chin with his finger. “Always running your dumb mouth. You know what happens to stupid girls that don’t know when to shut the hell up?”

Before you can give one of your smartass answers, his hand wraps around your jaw and grips it tightly to make you look up at him. You simply blink at him, as innocently as you can.

“They get their face fucked.”

Oh.

The only way to describe what you’re feeling is what you imagine a hot spear shooting down your core would feel like. Leaves behind a warm tingle pooling in your lower belly.

Your hands don’t waste any time as they travel up his thighs and your thumbs tuck under the waistband of his sweats. You flutter your lashes at him in hopes of getting permission to undress him.

He licks his lips and nods his head, watching you intently as you start tugging his sweats down.

You were right, you know. He really wasn’t wearing any underwear.

As you pull the hem down, the black markings come into view.

Your username.

Fuck.

He really is him.

Your eyes glance up at him and he’s already staring at you.

You tug his sweats further down, only to be almost slapped in the face with his dick. A quiet gasp of surprise escapes your mouth as you eye the view in front of you.

It’s exactly as it is in the videos and pictures he sends you.

You stare at it in awe, mouth already salivating.

He wraps his hand around the shaft and taps the tip of his dick against your lips. “Open.”

In the instance that you part your lips, he shoves his shaft right into your mouth without a single warning whilst cradling the back of your head to keep you still.

He doesn’t seem to care about your poor throat as he starts thrusting into it as if he’s got something to prove to the universe.

Saliva drips down your chin and onto your chest, staining your Power Puff girl shirt with dots of spit. Quiet gags resound in the back of your throat as Gameboy continues to push your head further down his shaft.

“Only fucking way to shut you up, isn’t it?” he grunts, the tip of his dick repeatedly slamming against the back of your throat and soft palette.

After a few more rough thrusts, he pulls out of your mouth and tugs your head back by the roots on your cranium to make you look up at him. You gasp for air, not paying any mind to how messy you must look right now.

He simply leans forwards, eyebrows pinched together as his tapioca pearls scan your face in a matter of milliseconds. “You okay?” he whispers, loosening his grip on your cranium and instead softly stroking it.

You blink in confusion at him. You’ve definitely never heard him sound that gentle when addressing you. Maybe only when addressing Bam.

But you quickly realize he’s genuinely just making sure you’re okay so far and whether you have any trouble with how rough he’s being.

With an eager nod of your assurance, he cockily chuckles. “That’s a good girl, isn’t it?” he slyly says before gathering saliva onto his tongue and spitting it out right on top of yours.

He straightens his back again before shoving his dick right back into your wet mouth. Makes him groan. Curse. Twitch on your tongue.

You happily keep your mouth wide open for him and his pleasure, fluttering your pretty lashes up at him. Your eyes blink back the tears repeatedly, almost like they’re trying to snap a photograph of this moment right now. Wanting to commit it all to memory. Wanting to commit him to memory.

“Fuck,” he grunts, “mouth so fucking good. ‘S why I prefer a brat that doesn’t know when to shut up.” His eyes are instantaneously on yours, black and hungry.

You can imagine, to be honest. All that shit-talking you were doing has brought you here. On your knees. Choking on a wet dick that you’ve been dreaming about.

You don’t think you could be any happier than you are at this moment.

“Gonna spill in your mouth,” he moans, hips never faltering in speed and precision.

Every time you open your eyes, you see your own username in faded black marker, right in front of your nose. Like you’ve been branded on him. Like he’s yours and yours only.

With your chest tightening at the pleasure you’re experiencing by giving him pleasure, the way he slips out of your mouth almost goes unnoticed by you.

He taps his dick against your tongue before reaching for your hand and leading it to his shaft. It takes you a few seconds to realize what he wants. He wants you to jack him off until he cums.

You wrap your hand around his shaft and aim the tip of his angry dick at your open mouth, eager to catch his cum on your tastebuds.

His eyes are staring you down so intently that it almost makes you choke on air. Luckily, you’re not a little bitch. You keep holding onto the eye contact like the little brat you are, though, defiant and stubborn.

He scrunches his nose up. Twitches his lips. Stifles a smirk. “Just like that, Angel.”

You keep your mouth open, tongue poking out past your lips. A slight shift on your knees makes you hyper aware of the wetness pooling in your panties.

Shit, you’re really turned on.

“Fuck,” he whispers, “gonna cum.” It doesn’t take long after for his dick to start twitching in your hand. Even less when ropes of his cum start shooting out of his dick, loud groans accompanying the wet sounds your hand makes whilst sliding up and down his soaking shaft.

More curses spill from his lips, eyes trying so hard to stay open and watch himself cum all over your tongue and chin.

With your head tilted and a shit-eating grin on your lips, you continue to milk him of every single drop until he squirms from the overstimulation.

You drop your hand from his shaft and bring your other hand to wipe your chin free of the saliva mixed with cum. His semen glides down your esophagus with a big gulp.

“Shit.” He throws his head back and runs his hands through his black locks. “Didn’t think I’d cum that fast.”

His eyes trail back to you, taking in the way you’re elegantly sitting on your knees, ass perked up on the back of your feet.

“I suppose you really are just all talk,” you quip, a smug grin tugging on the corner of your lips.

The goosebumps on the upper layer of your skin make an appearance when his hand wraps around your throat and squeezes it once. Twice. He bends over. Presses his lips to yours in a quick kiss. Messy. Hungry.

His tattooed hand abandons your throat to hoist you up by your biceps. He starts pushing you towards your bed until you fall back, cranium sinking into your soft pillows.

He rids himself of his tank top and yanks it across your room, not caring where it ends up before diving into your bed with you. Your thighs spread on their own accord, ready to let Gameboy do whatever he wishes.

His tongue makes an appearance as he swipes it along his bottom lip, eyeing the seam in your leggings. It makes his lip rings flick up. Makes your leggings more damp than they already are.

The slightest bit of pressure against your clothed pussy makes you jerk your hips up into his knuckles, the ones he was using to rub up and down your sex.

“You’ve soaked through your leggings,” he comments. “Got that wet from letting me use your dumb mouth, did you?”

His eyes flicker up to yours, the pad of his thumb still rubbing up and down your sex. You suppose he’s checking to see if you’re going to be a smartass about it or not.

You are.

“I got that wet from the thought of you ruining me and fucking me until I’m stupid like you said you would, but in all honesty, I think I might be falling asleep.”

Well.

The simple exhale that leaves his nostrils can only be described as a quick snort as his hand abandons your pussy in its time of need. You’re a second away from whining about it but Gameboy is quicker than you.

Tucks his fingers under the hem of your leggings. Yanks them down your legs. Doesn’t care that he tore the inseam of your leggings.

“Hey! You’re buying me a new pair!” You don’t really care that he tore them, you have a stockpile of these leggings that you could clothe a whole village with. You just want to be annoying.

He simply raises his finger to his lips, wordlessly telling you to be quiet.

“Wha–”

“Shh.” Shushes you. Eyes closed. Lips pursed. Brows pinched.

You lie there, confused. Legs spread. The only thing covering your attention-seeking pussy is the pathetic cotton panties that, by now, have completely been soaked by your arousal.

When you take another breath to speak up, he brings his palm down.

Smack!

“Ow!” Your hips jerk up off the bed once his palm comes in contact with your poor pussy.

Either you’re trippin’ off the hardest acid right now or he actually just spanked your vagina.

“I told you to be quiet.”

It simply earns him a glare but that doesn’t matter to him. The corners of his lips curl up and before you know it, his head dives down your body.

But what you don’t expect is his hands wrapping around the back of your knees and pulling you downwards so your back lies flat on the mattress as he settles in between your thighs, mouth pressed against the sticky fabric of your panties.

You’re barely able to get out a moan before he starts sucking on your sex through your panties, his eyes closed in concentration. He nudges your clit with his round nose. Does it again when you let out a moan that’s sweeter than the bottom of a bag of candy.

He pulls away which almost makes you whine but you clamp your mouth shut when he tucks his fingers under the hem of your panties. Glances at you through his brows.

You keep your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as he slowly starts sliding your panties down your legs, his eyes instantly glued to the faded black markings on your pelvis which spells out his username.

He tosses your panties aside and spreads your thighs by your knees again. His black irises stay glued to your soaking wet pussy, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Even prettier than I remember.” He lowers himself again. Wastes no time attacking your swollen clit with his angry tongue.

You reach for his hair, gently tugging on it with your fingers to pull him closer to where you want him. He obeys, burying himself in your sex with his entire face. Shakes his head to give you extra friction. Nudges your clit with his nose.

Your hips involuntarily jerk upwards but it doesn’t phase him in the slightest. He just continues to suck and lick at your pussy like a man starved.

Lying under him now is surreal. After all those months of talking to him, it’s hard to believe you’re in this position right now.

What’s even harder to believe is that he’s here.

That it’s him.

Him, of all people.

Your rude neighbor with a lack of manners and decency.

But for some reason, this makes it even more… satisfying?

He drags you out of your thoughts when he wraps his lips around your clit and pushes two of his fingers into you, creating gushing sounds that only further embarrass you.

He slurps, sucks, nips, licks. Looks up at you. Winks. Smirks.

The cold metal of his lip rings against your hot skin makes a shiver travel up your spine. Summons goosebumps on the upper layer of your skin. He notices. It makes him chuckle. The air from his exhale fans over your pussy. Gets you excited and whiny all over again.

“Shit, you taste way too good for a brat.” He uses both his thumbs to gently spread your folds apart to take in the beauty that is your soaking sex before pressing a soft kiss to your hole and shoving his tongue inside.

“F–fuck!” you cry out as he starts fucking his tongue in and out of you, nose nudging your clit and one thumb circling the rim of your asshole. It makes the all too familiar knot in your stomach slowly form.

“I’m gonna,” you pause, “cum.”

He doesn’t seem to care, though.

Because right as the knot threatens to snap, Gameboy pulls away. Stares you down as your arousal drips off his chin. He wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. The nonchalance he exudes while he does so makes you glare at him.

At least, to the best of your abilities, that is.

You’re a bit fucked out. Can’t feel your toes and your ears are ringing.

“Sluts like you don’t deserve to cum so quick,” murmurs Gameboy as he starts tugging at the hem of your shirt, the only fabric that still covers your body.

“But Jay!” you whine but he simply cuts you off by spanking your poor pussy again. You cry out. Your body jerks. It makes him huff in arrogance.

He adds, “Shut up and do as I say for once.”

You angrily huff as you yank the shirt off and toss it aside, somewhere on the floor near the pile of clothes. This allows your breasts to bounce free and his eyes are almost bursting out of their sockets as he takes the sight in.

His hands reach over your chest before his eyes peek up at yours, waiting for any sign of approval or permission. You reach out to his hands and bring them down to your breasts, wordlessly telling him there’s nothing more you’d want than this.

Even though he just came, he’s already sporting a semi hard-on from eating you out. The moment his hands grope your breasts, a soft groan leaves his throat. He can’t seem to stop staring at them. “Holy shit,” he mumbles, continuing to grope and massage them.

He gently pinches your nipples. Leans down and takes one into his mouth. Sucks with as much fervor as he can muster.

Several moans spill from your lips as he continues and the inflating dick against your thigh doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You hate to admit it but it boosts your ego to the max.

You hate it because men will fuck a hole in a tree. They get turned on by anything. But in this moment, you know that Gameboy wants you as bad as you want him and you can’t wait until he finally does what he came here to do.

“Fuck me,” you whimper, “fuck me, please.”

He raises his head, letting go of your breast with a loud pop as he stares you down. “Oh, wow. Where’s all that attitude? You finally starting to fall off your high horse?” He sounds so full of mockery when he says these things but you don’t care anymore.

If he doesn’t fuck you this instance you might die.

“No, bozo. I’m waiting to see what you’ve got in store. It seems like you keep delaying it because you can’t back your talk,” you reply almost right away.

Almost as soon as the words leave your lips, he slaps you on the mouth again. This time with a little more force that makes your lips tingle with a stinging sensation.

It makes you gasp. Not in surprise but in bliss. You only run your mouth to have him put you in your place. It’s too good of a feeling to know that you can get under his skin like this.

He stares at you with a look in his eyes that you can only describe as a combination of disbelief and amusement. “You’ve always got something to say, don’t you?” he mumbles as he reaches for his pants and rummages through its pockets before returning his attention to you.

You stare at the golden item in his hands. A condom.

Ain’t nobody got time for that.

You don’t even hesitate when you reach out, snatch it out of his hands and toss it to the floor.

It’s almost like he expected you to do that when his chest rumbles as he chuckles. You glance at him with such a desperate look in your eye and you think this time it might’ve worked.

Because he slowly pushes your thighs back and uses one hand to position his already hard dick by your pussy, rubbing it up and down your disgustingly soaked slit.

“You’ve got me dripping with precum, I hope you know that,” he quietly says. Slaps his dick onto your slit a few times. Moves it to the side as he purses his lips to let a drop of his saliva drop down onto your pussy, watching it dribble down your folds. “Fuck.”

Your teeth sink down into your bottom lip as you watch him go to work, the perfect view in front of you. You can see his concentrated face, his glorious body and your own pussy seconds away from a good pounding.

“Ready?” he whispers, eyes shooting up to yours and they’ve got the same twinkle as when he asked whether you were okay during the throatfucking.

You quickly nod and look back down at your sexes, eagerly waiting for him to finally push into you.

And he does.

He slowly starts to enter you, hips moving at a pace that makes you want to scream your head off.

You’re impatient but you know it’s best for your own good.

“Fuck. So fuckin’ tight,” he whispers as he pushes even more until he’s filled you up completely. Your walls uncomfortably stretch around him but you simply welcome the burn as you reach out to his shoulders and pull him closer to you.

He closes the gap between you two and instantly connects his lips to yours, kissing you so roughly that it takes you by surprise considering how gentle his lower body is treating yours.

After a few more seconds of making out, which ultimately helped you relax, you tap his shoulder and mumble the word “move” against his lips.

He hears you loud and clear.

Slowly starts rocking his hips into yours and it makes you moan into his mouth. He simply swallows your moans, licking into your mouth to steal every single sound you make.

You wrap your legs around his waist in hopes of pulling him even closer to you. Your hands cup his face as you slowly pull away from the kiss to look into his eyes.

He returns the eye contact whilst his hips increase in speed and power.

“Do you have other girls?” you manage to ask in between thrusts, eyes still boring into his. You’re not sure why you’re asking him this but you also can’t help but ask.

He stares you down in silence for a few moments before pulling away and straightening his back. He pulls out of you and pushes all the way back in as he holds your thighs apart.

“I have a bunch.” He starts thrusting into you with such speed that it makes your entire body jerk from the momentum, giving him a perfect view of your bouncing breasts. “How about you focus on being my favorite?”

Oh.

That’s all it takes to shut you up as he starts rubbing your clit with one thumb, trying to get you to the edge before he robs you of your orgasm again.

Not to mention the speed at which he fucks you in is borderline animalistic.

Damn. You must’ve really pissed him off.

He drills so deep into you that the sensation in your lower gut is indescribable. You subconsciously stretch out your arm, pressing your hand flat into his lower abdomen in hopes of getting him to slow down.

It means nothing to him, though.

He continues to pound into you, ignoring your hand begging for mercy as he grunts quietly. “Fuckin’ hate how beautiful you are, Angel.”

Clench.

“You like that, huh?” he huffs, one hand wrapping around the back of your thigh and the other slapping your hand away from his stomach. Gives you no choice but to take the pounding like a good girl. “Tightening around me like you’re trying to squeeze my fuckin’ dick off.”

All you can do is fight the moan that’s sliding up your esophagus as you bite into the back of your hand in hopes of swallowing your moans, eyes tightly shut to concentrate.

But he doesn’t like that.

His hand comes down on your jaw in a firm tap. “Look at me.”

You crack your eyelids open just to be blessed with the view of him and his hair sticking to his forehead from the thin layer of sweat it has produced.

“That all you got?” you taunt, referring to the soft slap he delivered to your face just now, if it even can be called that.

He stares at you with a slight squint in his eyes before he chuckles and this time, puts more force behind his slap.

Your face jerks to the side and your cheek tingles from the faint pain. It makes you clench around his shaft in pure ecstasy.

But then it all happens really fast.

He pulls out of you and in one motion, you’re on your stomach. By the time you look over your shoulder, Gameboy has positioned himself onto your ass before pushing into your gushing pussy from behind.

Lying flat on your stomach with your legs pressed together only makes him rub up against your walls even more, allowing you to feel and be able to map out all the veins and ridges on his dick.

The warmth that fans over your ear only suggests that he’s right next to your face, breathing heavily down your neck and collarbones.

“Where’d all that shit talking go?” he whispers quietly, lips pressed against the shell of your ear as his inked hand wraps around your throat from behind.

You try to answer but to no avail, the speed and power he uses to fuck you with has you sounding incoherent and absolutely stupid.

“Look at you now, all fucked out,” he adds, the shit-eating smirk present in his tone.

You slightly turn your head to be able to look at him, brows furrowed together and your mouth dropped open.

His eyes shift to your face and wander all over your desperate features before settling on your eyes again. “God,” whispers Gameboy quietly. “Gonna be the death of me, you are.”

He always knows what to say.

Every.

Single.

Time.

“Kiss me,” you manage to let out without sounding choked.

His eyes slowly drop to your round, pouty lips that shape into an ‘o’. “What’s the magic word, Angel?”

He’s so damn annoying.

“Please,” you say, without hesitation. “Please, kiss me.”

It takes no more than a second before your request has been fulfilled. His pretty lips press onto yours and he wastes no time sneaking his tongue into your mouth.

You continue to moan in desperation and pleasure, allowing him to swallow every last sound that escapes your mouth.

After several moments of kissing, it’s only then that you realize he’s no longer thrusting but instead he’s simply nestled deep inside of you and all his focus is on kissing you.

When you pull away from the kiss, it seems like he, too, realizes this. Clears his throat. Hoists himself up.

To your surprise, he yanks your ass up into the air by your hips and presses his hand flat down on your upper back to keep your face down and ass up.

With your burning face buried in the sheets, all you can focus on is your sense of touch and hearing.

A glob of saliva drops onto your pussy. He rubs it in with his dick before slapping it a few times and easing himself in again.

Your back arches from the sensation as you listen to the beautiful, quiet moans spilling from his lips. Makes you realize that his voice box deserves an award. Or a national holiday. You bet he could be famous if he intended to do anything with his voice.

But the moment is flipped onto its head when Gameboy starts thrusting into you like there’s no tomorrow. Like he’s got something to prove to the universe. Like he’s finally getting his long awaited revenge.

Which he is.

And this is precisely what you wanted when you provoked him all those times.

A loud smack rings in your ears and a sharp sting spreading through your asscheek follows right away, earning a cry from you. He spanks you again. And again. And again.

His other hand sneaks around your hip and furiously starts rubbing at your clit, involuntarily making you clench around his shaft that is forcing it’s way into you repeatedly.

“Fuck’s sake,” he grunts as he rocks his hips into yours and watches your bum recoil against him with each thrust.

The stimulation is starting to wear you out. Droplets of sweat roll down your back like shining pearls and your heart pounds in your chest like a drum at a parade.

You reach behind you to press your hand into his lower abdomen again in hopes of being granted his mercy but this time he doesn’t hesitate. He wraps his hand around your wrist and pins it against your lower back.

“Running your fucking mouth and now you think I’ll take it easy on you? Isn’t this what you wanted?” he scoffs as he uses his other hand to grip your hip to smoothly pound into you. “Shut the fuck up and take this pounding like you’re my bitch.”

Oh.

You wish you could rebuttal, you wish you could insult him, say something, anything.

But all that’s leaving your mouth are pathetic moans and cries as your stomach starts tightening and your walls start clenching around him.

“Ah, you liked that, didn’t you? So filthy.” He lets go of your hip and reaches around to start rubbing circles onto your clit again as you shiver and squirm under him. “Just how I like it.”

You can’t even for the words to tell him that you’re seconds away from cumming but it seems like he understands nonetheless because he’s simply shushing you and adding quick “I know, baby”s in a low voice.

Just when you think he’s granting you your much needed orgasm, he abruptly turns you over on your back. Before you have any idea on what’s going on, he has wiggled himself in between your thighs and entered you once again, leaving you no space to even catch your breath.

“Jay–”

“I wanna see your face when you cum,” he tells you as he reaches for your clit to help you reach your orgasm. “You’re so fucking lucky it’s like 3AM. I would’ve fucking edged you for hours on end.”

Ah. Damn it.

You quickly nod your head with your eyes focused on your sex being pummeled. “Fuck, fuck. Please,” you whimper, squirming under his frame which only makes him chuckle.

“Beg, baby,” is all he says.

Fuck.

“Please,” you say, “please, please, please.”

You don’t even know what exactly it is you’re begging for but he knows. He knows because he keeps nodding, has one hand groping your bouncing breast while the other stimulates your clit just the way you like it.

Your stomach soon tightens and it makes the words stutter in your throat. You can’t even make a coherent sentence but all he does is nod his head in understanding.

“You’re creaming all over my shit, you know that?” he groans as he stares at his own dick sliding in and out of your pussy, focusing on all the arousal you’re leaving behind on his shaft like a trail.

“Shit,” you cry as your thighs start to clench and your core starts to burst into flames. Your frame completely shudders under him. The moans and whimpers spilling from your lips are loud yet soft and the feeling is indescribable.

You tightly squeeze your eyes shut as the orgasm washes over your tired body, making you see all the celestial bodies in the universe on the back of your eyelids.

All your nerve endings are set alight and every single hair on your body stands up straight, like a soldier at attention.

His thumb on your clit never falters in speed and precision and his hand has returned to your thigh, firmly holding it in place as he fucks you through your much needed orgasm.

Your chest inflates and deflates dramatically, trying to catch your breath which constantly seems just a millisecond away every time.

He keeps going though, his stamina proving to be S tier.

Clenching all around him and finally reaching your orgasm has his hips slightly stuttering in their rhythm, his dick twitching inside of you. “Fuck. Where do you want it?”

You blink back your tears as you gather your energy to prop yourself up on your elbows. You stare straight at him as he awaits a response.

“I want it all inside.”

That’s all he needs, really.

“I’m cumming soon,” he grunts, unable to steady his heavy breathing like he has up until this point. “Pussy so fuckin’ good, Angel.”

His thrusts are sloppy and imprecise but that just makes him that much hotter. You flick your tongue up on the pad of your thumb and bring it to his nipple as you slightly tease it, rolling the erect nub around under your finger.

His breathing only gets heavier and you’re not helping his case when you continue to clench around him like you’re trying to milk him of every last drop he has to offer.

You are.

“Fuck,” is all he says before dropping his head into the crook of your neck and giving a few powerful thrusts before ropes of his warm cum shoot into you and paint your walls. A loud groan leaving his mouth is cut short when he presses his lips against yours, giving you a heated kiss as he unloads inside of you.

There’s so much cum that a good amount of it spurts out of you with every single thrust he gives you. He quietly moans against your lips when the final drop shoots out of him and straight into you, which only makes you moan back.

Fuck. You really just got creampied by the man whose guts you hate and vice versa. Sexual tension is a bitch.

He continues to kiss you, though, gentle and exhausted like he’s got nowhere to be and only wants to kiss you for hours on end.

You don’t know why but you welcome it with open arms. Wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Tilt your head slightly to deepen the kiss.

The makeout session lasts longer than either of you expected.

Not that anyone is complaining.

Then, you two finally break apart and gasp for air.

He slowly, very slowly pulls out of you. He wraps his hand around your leg to lift it a bit higher up in the air and stares at your ruined sex with his teeth sunken into his bottom lip.

You lie there, staring at him with a quirk in your brow as he gently rubs your inner thighs with his thumb.

It’s quiet.

Really quiet.

Is the post-nut-clarity making him regret everything?

You don’t exactly know how to feel. You don’t regret it. It felt good. You haven’t felt that way in a long time.

Right when you begin to overthink, he asks, “Was I too rough on you?”

You blink at him a few times before shaking your head. “You were perfect.”

The compliment makes the corners of his lips curl up and finally makes his eyes shift to yours. You hadn’t noticed he was avoiding your gaze.

He glances at you for a few moments before springing up from the bed and sliding his sweats back onto his legs. You glare at him from across the room and watch as he exits your room.

You stare at the ceiling in silence. What just happened?

Was this a one time thing? Well, to be fair, you were planning on inviting him to stay an entire week but that was before you even knew who he was.

He’s back a few moments later with a damp towel and approaches you on your bed, gently wiping you clean of his cum. “You should go pee.”

You squint your eyes at him in suspicion but quickly let it go as he’s focused on cleaning you up. “Oh, so, you do have manners after all?”

His eyes immediately shoot up at yours and his hand comes to a halt. When he sees the bratty look on your face, he simply chuckles and shakes his head before returning his attention to your poor sex.

“Can’t fuckin’ stand you,” he mumbles but can’t seem to hide the smile threatening to creep on his lips.

It makes your own lips curl up into a soft smile. “As long as you continue to fuck me like you just did, you don’t have to be able to stand me.”

He uses a dry spot on the towel to dry your skin down a bit before glancing into your eyes. “You intend on doing this again?”

This makes you frown. Makes your heart sink into your stomach. Makes you slowly close your legs and cross your arms over your chest. You don’t know why. Is it shame? Regret? Humiliation? “You don’t?” you ask him, voice suddenly sounding small and uncertain. You hate it.

“100% but I wasn’t sure whether you’d be on board with that.” He gets up from your bed and hands you your underwear. “I thought you’d want to take out your frustrations once and then have it be done with.”

When he sees you not moving, he takes it upon himself to slide your panties onto your legs. Makes you hoist your hips off the bed. Slides them right into place.

There’s a slight pinch of relief in your chest and you deeply exhale. “No.”

He slowly nods his head and awkwardly scratches the back of his head.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him like this.

He’s pretty cute.

“Okay, well,” he mumbles as he looks around your room and picks his clothes up off the floor. “It’s really late. I’ll, uh,” he pauses, “see you tomorrow?”

You blink at him for a few moments and then quietly chuckle. “You can stay the night, you know.”

He raises his eyebrows and runs a hand through his damp hair. You hadn’t noticed how sweaty he’d gotten. “Getting a soft spot for me, are we?”

A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest when he sees the nasty glare you throw his way, along with the pillow next to your head, which he swiftly dodges. “I appreciate the sentiment but Bam’s alone and he has separation anxiety.”

Oh.

Scratch that. He’s really cute.

You can’t help but let a soft smile creep on your lips. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He nods his head absentmindedly and slowly starts backing out of your room.

“Wait,” you call out as you sit up straight. You use your sheets to cover your chest in modesty as you watch him come to a halt.

He glances at you over his shoulder, eyebrow quirked.

“You,” you pause, “you still don’t know my name.”

Silence.

He stares at you for a few more moments before chuckling. “I know your name.”

Huh?

“Wh–”

He cuts you off.

With your name.

He just said your name.

You blink in confusion a few times. Swallow thickly as you try to think of a logical reason as to how he could possibly know your name.

Did you somehow tell him and forget? Did he hear Jimin call you by name? Did he ask your landlord?

“How do you know my name?” you quietly ask, gently sucking on your bottom lip in uncertainty. He’s making you doubt your own memory.

He brings his shoulders up in an infuriatingly arrogant shrug. “We live in the same building, babe. All I had to do was look at a letter addressed to your apartment number.”

There’s no way he did that.

Did he actually go out of his way to look up your name? Didn’t he ask you what your name was earlier? Was he testing to see if you were going to lie about it?

He shrugs his shoulders with an air of nonchalance before opening the door to your bedroom. “You can call me Jungkook. Or Jay, I’m not picky.” He steps out and turns to look at you one last time. “As long as it’s my name in your mouth when you spend nights like these.”

And with that, he disappears from your line of vision but reappears in your mind like a tick that has latched itself onto your brain and refuses to leave.

Huh.

Okay. You see how it is.

And now your thoughts are clouded with everything that just happened. His hands on your skin, his lips on yours, his rough pounding on your poor nether regions. You did ask for it after all.

Every time you think about it, you want to scream. You turn your head and whimper into your pillow but every time you do, you smell him. His scent is everywhere. And as much as you hate to admit it, he smells absolutely amazing. You could bury your face in his chest and inhale it for the rest of your eternity.

Your phone buzzing on your nightstand makes you flinch and it sucks you back into reality.

You quickly turn over and reach for your phone before unlocking it and opening up the text conversation with him.

@archurback4me | 4:05AM

Goodnight Angel

And just so you know

I won’t lose to you

You hate how cheesy the smile is that creeps on your lips, internally thanking the Lord that no one is witnessing you and your big goofy smile.

You | 4:07AM

game on, gameboy

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

— enjoyed it? you can always show your appreciation by buying me some coffee if you want ☕︎♡

@mygdday @coletaehyung @btspurplesky @kaitieskidmore97 @marvelbun @nini_07777 @8514238 @llallaaa @s3l3n0phil3 @agrika @ahgasegotarmy116 @canyon-lwt @boyfriendtaekook @s4yok0 @mochminnie @chimmisbae @muah-minhoe-8 @bloopkook @whoa-jo @dreami-yoonkookie @earth2fae @kissyfacekoo @keroppitae @junecat18 @hollowtree11 @jksusawife @synnfulqt @pamzn @jknoah @jjk-jeongirl @busanstarkoo @busanboykoo @codeinebelle @taegicity @bettybloop @kookssecret @MMFranklin @vickyyy97 @suciedad-divina @jkslipppiercing @heyyolly04 @partyparty-yah @kooact @osakis-gf @luna-astro-star @plushjeno @jjk1iscoming @Heyrobitches @sunnysorasworld @raineo @jjanjankook @etaerealboyv @somehowukook @larryrulesthisfuckingworld @rrrapmonste-rr @denisaandreea20 @httpjeonlicious @jjeonjennie @dellalyra @optimisticmoongalaxy @ishizhans

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jackass-jones · 6 months ago

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Sometimes if I’ve gotten done with a therapy appointment my dad will ask what we talked about and it’s like. Girl who do you think 🤨

#the klock keeps ticking #havent really done any therapy shit in a while cuz. yeah having a whole trust issues thing happening after bad experiences #but had to do a psychiatrist appointment today just cuz if i dont every once in a while i cant have meds #and yeah just makes me think how my dad has the audacity to ask that shit its like #first off even if we didnt talk about you like. why would you casually ask someone what they discussed in therapy alsjks #like this conversation can only be dark. unless he thinks idk my problems are just that stupid #also its like. personal? and every time ive been like uhhh dont ask me that i dont wanna talk about it he gets all pissy #saying that like i OWE him that information and he wants proof im trying to fix the things he deems as problems about me #which is stupid in every possible way like damn the entitlement #on the flip side my mom is really insecure shes like ‘i know youre probably talking about how much you hate me in there 😩’#liiiike. dude. get a grip #so insecure soooo insecure over the idea of looking like a bad parent but refusing to ever admit youre wrong or that your behavior is bad #so yeah obviously i need to keep these people as far away as possible with this shit

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piggycyberwarrior · 5 months ago

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Ekko SWF-Alphabet

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

!not proof read!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Ekko is the type of boyfriend that would constantely pepper your face with kisses. He knows how easily people can die- can be killed- so he tries to shower you with affection.

He likes to show you how much he loves you, because he is kinda confused with words. He is a warrior- a leader, not a big talker? he tries tho.

I would say he is pretty affectionate but mostly behind closed doors. As i said- he's a leader, he shouldn't be smooching his girl next to the firelights... he thinks its inappropriate. But in a calmer, more softer setting- boii he's all over you!!

B = Bribe (Can you bribe him?)

Yes and No.

Ekko is loyal as fuck. He would never EVERR betray the ones dear to his heart. But small and unnecessary things like

"Okay.. would you come with me if i give you one- no TWO kisses?"

Yeah. nope he would immediately jump off the couch and sprint towards you. He doesn't play there..

He kinda sees it as a payment...

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

I PERSONALLY think that Ekko likes Hugs way more than cuddles. I'll explain:

You know that one hug that hits so good? Nose burried in their neck- inhaling their scent- arms tight around the person after you saw them finally- FINALLY again and all these emotions are put in that hug.

^ He loves that so much when he comes home, tired from a mission

That doesn't mean he does not like Cuddles. I think Ekko loves to lay his head onto your Chest/boobies all the time. crushing you under his weight and laughing when you grumble because of his stupid antics

or being the big spoon (like almost never the little spoon- only when he needs comfort). he loves it that he can make you feel safe in his arms

He likes to nap while cuddling but i think he doesn't really like to sleep at NIGHT when cuddling. That! man! needs! his! space!! (Napping while cuddling is okay idk why??)

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Yes he really wants to settle down with you somewhere safe and sound- a place that doesn't exist now, unfortunately. Thats why he works so hard. maybe he can give you that home you deserve someday.

That man is a COOK. Full ass GORDON RAMSAY like its not even normal??? He even enjoys it- apron on, humming a little melody while making breakfast for the two of you.

he loves to help you at home even tho he barely has time between eating , sleeping and his duties. But you don't mind. he asks some of his people to help you out if you really need help with the chores.

is kinda shitty at cleaning- kinda never learned to do it... i mean he grew up in Zaun.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I'm sorry but like i said he is kinda shitty with words so he tries to rip the bandaid off real quick by breaking up through text/letters...

He doesn't really feel good about it too- feels like an asshole to be honest but he can't help it :(

if they wanted to talk about it though- he tries

he is okay with the fact that you hate him because of his break-up-style

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Ekko is a little bit scared? of commitment. He kinda doesn't wanna be "caged"- he feels as if his freedom has been pushed into a box, but in reality he just needed to find the right person.

I think Ekko needs some time to really REALLY settle with the fact that he loves his s/o and that can take some time.

But oh boi when it happens- he wants to marry you immediately!! Like mentioned he knows that life is short- so he tries to marry you as quick as possible.

But he understands it if you need time to think about it or aren't ready yet.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Ekko's kinda rough around the edges as he grew up in a rough atmosphere. Sometimes his grip is too strong- his attempts to tickle you can hurt a bit and his hands are calloused as well.

But in the end he never wants to hurt you and is extremely gentle towards you as much as he can

he is so much gentler to you than to anyone else. always makes sure you aren't stressed or anything like that.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Yes.Yes.Yes!! he loves hugs like mentioned earlier. It just fits better into his lifestyle as he can quickly but passionately hug you before or after a mission and can also do that in public. he cannot cuddle you outside on the street :/

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Not that fast. Boi has some serious trust issues and you probably have to initiate the big ol' L-Word. When he finally says it- he will never stop saying it.

He willl always shower you with 'I love you's' and expects you to also say it back. he's just a sucker for that simple sentence even tho he was kinda wary of the concept of love

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Doesn't get jealous. Just doesn't, he trusts you completely. Period.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you?)

His kisses are like him. Sweet but passionate, as well as a sprrrinkle of roughness.

he loves the traditional way of kissing you. on the lips. he is addicted to the taste of them on his and can kiss you till dawn. (he doesn't mind that you call him a simp)

He also loves to give you small pecks on your face but mostly the side of your head when you did something cute or stupid.

Always has his hands on you when you kiss- either on your throat, back or waist.

Also grins into kisses like ahhhrgcvszdc PLEASE

L = Little ones (Would he like to have Children?)

Loves children- I mean he keeps them save in the HQ too like what did you expect...

Would also love to have children when he's older.. kinda a dream of his. Probably 3 kids. Is still okay with it if you don‘t like to have kids- respects it!

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

i kind of have the feeling that dis man is such a morning grouch :/ soooorry

like he always wants to sleep more (in other words- has a fucked up sleep schedule)

Still he loves it when you kiss him awake- and he would always and i mean ALWAYS!! roll on top of you and squish you under him with a laugh before pressing kisses on your face and getting up.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

OHH THAT BITCH IS A NIGHT OWL. He is always so much goofier at nighttime (you know that weird 3am energy?? Exactly)

He likes it when you are sitting on his lap at night though, while he is fiddling at some prototype. Your fingers lazily playing with his dreads while he nuzzled himself onto your shoulder while working

Its a mix of both energy’s- late snack runs or slow evenings.

ALSO LOVES TO SLOW DANCE WITH YOU IN THE KITCHEN AT NIGHT!!!!

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

As i said, he takes his time to fully trust you. If you grew up together- he would‘ve probably told you a lot of things already. If you didn‘t- he is kinda hesitant to tell you at first. I think he would start revealing things about himself after a good few months of dating. He takes his time with those things

still he will always listen when you have something to tell him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It depends. When he is frustrated- his patience is very thin- but when he is in his normal mood- it’s out of gold

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

REMEMBERS EVERYTHING. It is truly getting creepy. He knows everything???

birthday, likes, dislikes, all the family gossip you told him one day- even remembering all of your family member’s names, favorite book, favorite hyperfixation at the moment, favorite place- everything you mentioned to him once.

lol he laughs everytime you think he forgot something and he proves you wrong- you‘re just like:🧍‍♀️

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

that one hot ass summer night were you were both almost naked (nothing seggsual) - sweating like a pig- window wide open- not able to sleep and just talking bout shit. -> leading to you telling him you love him.

He didn‘t mind the humid heat in the end. Just feeling so happy.

always remembers that moment and feels giddy when there is a hot summer night…

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they like to be protected?)

He loves it when you defend him verbally. He can fight- and doesn‘t want you to hurt yourself in the process- but seeing you argue with someone for him is making his heart race.. <3

like i said he doesn‘t get jealous but is neverthless protective. He knows that Zaun is fucking dangerous- also knows that you can protect yourself but he wants to keep any harm from you..

always being your guard dog and even fighting people that bitch at you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts?)

I think he always gets you something when he‘s in Piltover- books or small things that you like..

He likes to have dates in the privacy of your home- nothing extraordinary…. I am SO SORRY BUT THIS MAN ISN‘T A FAN OF ANNIVERSARIES!! He just doesn‘t get the point?? For him everyday is an anniversary.

He still plans the home dates (puts a lot of effort in the planning part)- and everytime you do something new fun!!

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Nail Biting, Workaholic, Insomnia, such a gossip girl 😭 its funny tho.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

That Man is proud!!! He worked so much, trained so much did everything to become the person he is- loves his muscles and is kinda concerned how he looks

(Have you seen that man? Face paint on the spot- dreads styled like that and always revealing that yummy bicep..)

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

yes- next question

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

100% a cat person. He loves them but will never admit it. When he first saw one as a kid- he begged Benzo to let him adopt it. Still visits it‘s grave. Kinda has a fur allergy but he doesn‘t care 💀

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

hates hates HATES it when his partner is rude or disrespectful for no reason. (Sure, its a different story when you are getting shit on) but he just finds it so bad when you insult someone for no reason (and mean it)

has no problem when you playfully call someone (him) an idiot tho…

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He is a kicker. Like bitch, stop kicking me in the ribs while sleeping 😭. Also wakes up with his head at your feet- turns around a lot. Just an active sleeper here…

you on the other hand get many bruises from his kicking…. I am so sorry

#fyp #arcane imagines #arcane imagine #arcane headcanons #arcane ekko #arcane writing #arcane ekko x reader fluff #ekko x reader fluff #arcane ekko x reader #swf alphabet #Arcane swf alphabet #Arcane fluff #arcane ekko fluff #Ekko fluff

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