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korgidorgi · 2 days ago

Note

I LOVE YOUR WINGED READER STUFF.

At the end of your HC with Mel, you mentioned that Reader and Mel see each other after the fic with Ambessa. So, and hear me out, Singed turns Reader into a giant monster to fight in the war‼️

Mel Medarda x Winged!Reader - new plot idea (thanks anon :3)

I actually already have a plan for the next bit of the story, but I really do love that idea! So I’ve maybe kinda added an alternate timeline for you :)

This was actually super fun to write, thank you so much for the prompt! I’m so glad you like my series!!!! I didn’t really do the giant monster thing, but I did practically get rid of everything that makes King Raven King Raven >:3 (lmk if you really want the big scary monster reader and I’ll write another one this was so funnn)

Idk when I’m posting this, but I wanna post it now bc all I’ve been doing the last few days is writing writing writing for this Winged!Reader series thing. The hyper fixation is hyper fixating and I can’t stop it. Gods I need to learn patience lmaoooo (I lied I wrote for 6 hours and now I’m posting)

Lowkey, this can be a follow up next chapter to the Ambessa fucking hates you fic. Like, it actually flows and that one makes this all make sense. Nothing feels better than puzzle pieces putting themselves together for a project you never thought would be a project. Like, I’ve had this fucking character in my head since before season two came out and this just let me put it all together and develop this story for myself. (Maladaptive daydreamer much?) Anyways, I’ll stop ranting and raving, I just actually lost myself in writing this wsjjkanjsidfiwj.

Oh my gyatt this is a long one…

Warnings: Violence, cursing, mind control?, blood, injuries, angst

Summary: basically the above ask.

Ambessa still has you in her possession, hidden away from the world. Singed runs the final ‘treatment’ you’d failed to receive three years ago when he first had you in his lab, when he first made you into his creation. Under Noxian control, possession, and guard, you remain close to his needles and his concoctions. With the help of the Herald’s existence and the relationship with Singed’s work, your mind becomes entangled with thoughts that are not yours. Commands slip into your head, your body obeys. Flashes of what’s happening feel like a dream, or a bad trip. Sound is a whirr in your mind, blending together in a cacophony of noise. You’re unable to make out what is producing them, let alone be able to separate them. Your mind is barely present, pushed down by whatever concoctions Singed has pumped into you once again. Trying to fight the loss of control is painful, a way to keep you compliant, keep you beaten back and unable to defy your destiny.

Flashes of large ships stain your mind, just barely in focus. The harsh clinking of metal, chains, waves against a hull, people shouting, Ambessa barking orders. It’s a blur. The only thing crystal clear in your head is the orders you’ve been given by Singed and Ambessa. It’s hard to focus on anything but your orders, even then, you blindly follow, unable to stop your own body from moving on its own accord. Your body is wrapped in red and metal. Noxian war garments. A new, metallic mask adorns your face, a twisted version of a falcon with sharp edges and a dark aura. Your hands grip the weapons in your hands; a Noxian war spear in one, and a close combat heavy blade gauntlet in the other.

The boat lurches, and the utter of a single word sends you into action. Your wings spread, beating quick and sending you into the air. Dodging projectiles, you use your weapons expertly, fighting with horrifying swiftness and strength. Piltovian’s stand no chance against you. You’re stabbing, slashing, swinging, wrestling with anyone you come across. Each face your eyes focus on only reveal the same sinister face that put you in this position, the face that causes agony whenever you see it. Rage boils in your blood, activating the Shimmer in your body. Pain surges through your body and your mind, forcing you to continue and discouraging any urge to disobey.

You’ve flown past the enemy lines, far into their territory. Your objective to clear a path to the Hexgates at any means necessary. You slaughter your way to the building, leaving so much blood in your wake. Stepping up the staircase to the front doors of the building, you wipe the blood from your weapons, revealing the shimmering steel beneath the red liquid. The heavy doors are locked, but it’s not a problem for you. One swift, Shimmer-fueled kick to it breaks the locking mechanisms. The doors uselessly swing open slowly, groaning as the hinges protest. More enforcers are inside, opening fire the moment they see you. You move quickly, dodging most of their fire as you rush them one by one. Blood splatters across your form with each enforcer you take out, staining your red drapes, your feathers, and your armor. Only a few stray bullets hit their mark, but only to just end up grazing you. Small tears in your outfit build up, showing the others how much strength you wield against them despite each injury you sustain. None of your injuries slow you down, your body moving like a machine. Your movements are automatic, calculated, the end goal to remove everyone who stands against you. The Shimmer in your veins helps to begin closing the wounds, keeping you moving towards your objective.

His face is everywhere. No matter how many times you rid your vision of him, another version of him pops up, another sting of pain paired with it. You close in on him, quickly slashing his throat with your spear before he can fire at you. Another version of him fires at you from down the hall. Your eyes snap over to him and your body moves on instinct, quickly closing in on him. You thrust your spear into his chest, easily slicing through his blue armor and quickly staining it a dark red. He falls from the tip of your spear, only for another version to take his place further down the hall. It’s a nightmare you can’t wake from. The only way forward is to fight, to kill until you stop seeing his face. You remove the blade from another body, huffing as you do. Confusion, rage, panic, it all flows through your system, your mind. You can feel that something is wrong with you, but you’re so disorientated, stuck in this twisted nightmare that feels so real with the pain searing through your body.

You turn your attention back to the task at hand, focusing on clearing the way to the Hexgates. One more figure stands in your way. Singed stands at the end of the hall, donned in a white cloak, a hood over his head. There is no weapon in his hands, only the golden threat of pain swirling around him.

His words are muffled, making your vision blur more. You shake your head, trying to clear your vision. You can barely make out what he’s saying. It’s so similar to his voice, but there’s another element to it. Something gentle.

“Get out of my head…” You seethe at him, your grip on your weapons increasing as you begin to take strides towards him.

With a wave of his hand, a wave of golden pain rushes towards you. You swiftly dodge it, beating your wings to get an advantage above him. Before you can get too high to make your move, two golden tendrils wrap around your ankle, pulling you back down to the ground. You quickly adapt, swiftly closing in on him to land a strike against him. You miss. He’s too quick and sends another wave of gold at you, his mottled voice ringing out yet again, this time his tone is a bit more desperate. Only a few of his words stick in your mind.

“I… …not… …r— enemy—“

His voice is barely understood, fading in and out of your mind, but it doesn’t sound like him. It’s something softer. Familiar.

Despite it, you don’t stop your objective. Your body moves against your will, continuing to strike out at him. Your body and mind are still driven by fear and illusions, working like an unstoppable, well-oiled machine.

With each golden wave of potential pain sent your way, you fight harder. It’s a very balanced face off. But you don’t let the golden waves touch you. Who knows how painful he’ll make you. You can’t get close enough to land a hit on him, but neither can he. It doesn’t seem like he’s fighting very hard to stop you, but hard enough to keep you at bay.

“Fucking fight me you coward!” You urge him angrily, rushing in to try to land another hit.

Before you can reach him, another golden wave comes at you from the side, sending you into the walls of the hall. You let out a grunt at the contact, your mask flying off your face and landing on the floor with a metallic clatter.

Something jostles in your mind. Now your mind can’t make up if your looking at him, or Mel. That’s impossible. Mel is still missing. She can’t be here. Not with Singed.

You shake your head, trying to clear your vision and your mind. You let out a growl, fighting against another golden wave that tries to pin you to the wall. He speaks again, the voice muffled, distorted. Like there’s two people talking at the same time. He approaches you, a hand outstretched to keep you at bay with his golden magic. The closer he gets, the more confusing everything becomes. You’re seeing two faces on the same body, sending waves of intense emotional distress, polar opposites. It’s overwhelming, causing pain to shoot through your mind. You lash out again, trying to keep him away, to end him, to stop the mental torment. Mel is gone and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Please!” He pleads with you, sending another wave of energy to keep you against the wall. “Remember!”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” You scream at him, your vision flicking between Mel’s face and Singed’s.

You fight against the golden energy, but it’s stronger than your body, keeping you in your vicinity as he approaches you. You shake your head again, trying to right your mind and your vision, to try to make sense of this nightmare. Despite how unreal everything looks and sounds, the pain and emotion surging through your body and mind screams otherwise. You can’t tell what is what anymore, if anything is even real.

You break free of the golden energy, rushing him again with unparalleled speed. You manage to push him back, pinning him against the wall on the opposite side of the hall. You hold your blade against his throat, your body freezing as you pin him to the wall. Your mind can’t make up who you’re looking at. You can’t bring yourself to hurt her.

“What did they do to you, my Dove?”

The first cohesive sentence uttered since your mind got thrown into a blender. Your chest feels like it’s being squeezed, but your body remains frozen. Singed would never know to say that. Despite your mind flicking through the two different faces, one thing that remains constant is the eyes. Full of concern and sorrow, holding a tenderness only one person has ever shown you. Your breaths come out in ragged huffs, your mind erupting in pain as you try to piece everything together.

A hand comes up to gently move a piece of hair from your face, the touch gentle, so gentle. The longer you look, the more clear her face becomes, the illusions beginning to fade from your mind and vision. A soft, warm, golden glow emanates from her hand, her face slowly coming into focus, the illusions of Singed’s wrinkled, bandaged face slowly fading. You blink, shaking your head slightly before focusing back on her.

“Mel…?” You ask so softly, your voice breaking.

Your grip loosens on her, noticing the heavy blade you have against her throat. A stab of guilt washes over you, sending a small electric shock through your chest. Slowly, you come to your senses, but the pain in your head begins to increase. Your face contorts into one of pain as you try to fight it, trying to believe that Mel is here. And you almost killed her.

You back away from her, your body trembling from the emotional and reality whiplash. Your weapon drops to the ground with a loud clatter, echoing through the hall. Your hands move to your head as the pain increases. The room begins to spin, sending you stumbling back as you try to right your bearings. Pained cries leave your lips, both from the physical pain and emotional overwhelm. Tears streak down your cheeks, both from pain and intense anguish. You can’t bring yourself to look at her again, backing away from her. You glance down at the armor you’re clad in, noticing the blood staining the metal and soaking it the cloth.

A soft hand rests on your shoulder, pulling you back to the present. You flinch from her touch, backing away from her yet again. Your eyes meet hers, wide with fear and anguish as you finally see her face. The pain in your head is intense, making it hard to focus. Mel just takes another couple steps to you, placing both of her hands on each side of your face.

“My Dove…” She murmurs softly, her eyes taking in your physical and mental torment. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

She presses her forehead against yours, her eyes closing softly. You lean into her touch, your body losing the strength to continue with your orders from Ambessa. It’s like a filter has been removed from your mind, or maybe placed in to filter out the filth that’s been clouding your mind. Everything is still confusing, you’re still trying to piece together what you’ve just done, what you’ve been seeing, acting upon.

A choked sob leaves your throat, your knees becoming weak under her touch. The way she so quickly forgives you. Her arms wrap around you, pulling you against her as you cry, apologies tumbling from your mouth as you cling to her.

“Its okay, Dove.” She reassures you, her voice soft, smooth like silk. “You weren’t in control. It wasn’t you.”

You try to compose yourself, remembering the war that’s happening outside. After a few moments, you pull back, gazing at her, taking in the golden markings that adorn her skin. Your hand comes up to cup her cheek, your thumb gently stroking across her skin, tracing over the gold.

“I can’t believe you’re really here…” You murmur softly, your voice threatening to break again.

“I’m here, Y/N,” she reaffirms to you, giving you a small squeeze to emphasize her statement. “I always will be.”

“We can’t stay here.” You speak again, pulling back from her, albeit reluctantly.

“I know.” She replies solemnly. “We have to stop Viktor from getting to the Hexgates.”

“Yeah,” you confirm quietly.

She takes a step towards you, not allowing you to pull away from her.

“He’s not in the sphere.” You reveal to her, trying to remember the flashes of Ambessa’s plans. “It’s a diversion.”

“Then where is he? How is he getting to the Hexgates?” She asks, concern evident in her tone. “I don’t know, exactly.” You admit, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, I wish I could be of more help to you.”

“Don’t apologize,” she brings a hand to your cheek again, gently guiding you to look at her again. “You can only do what you can.”

••• ••• •••

The telltale sound of a rifle firing rings from the other side of the door. There’s a glow about Mel, a physical manifestation of her magic. The large doors of the building swing open as Mel approaches them, sunlight bathing the hall in its warmth. She approaches Ambessa, lowering her hood.

You look out at the terrace from behind her, seeing Caitlyn kneeling on the ground, a body collapsed right next to her. The slew of Noxian soldiers awaiting Ambessa’s orders, red flags waving in the wind.

“If you care for me at all, spare their lives.” Mel speaks as she strides out onto the terrace of the building. “There is nothing to gain from this senseless bloodshed!”

Ambessa rolls her eyes at Mel’s appearance. “Still a fox.” She scoffs before calling out to her soldiers.

Her soldiers weapons raise, broad shields protecting their bodies. Mel glances around at the army before her. A distant approaching sound of music echos through the city, an airship rounding a corner and setting off explosions as it enters the airspace. People on hoverboards launch themselves from the craft, descending on the soldiers. Everyone’s attentions are on the cacophony above.

“Fire!” Ambessa orders, taking a swing at the Firelights as they swoop in from above.

Chaos erupts as the soldiers follow her orders, attacking the firelights as they close in. Some of the soldiers engage Mel and yourself, the two of you defending yourselves against the soldiers. The scuffle ends quickly, however. The ground shakes as a large block slams into the cocoon like sphere, smashing it into pieces. You immediately rush over to Mel, using your wings to wrap around her to shield her from the blast. Mel also shields the two of you from the debris with her magic, a golden shield appearing between the two of you and the impact. Once the dust settles, you step back from her, glancing between the diversion and Ambessa.

Ambessa smirks at the two of you, glancing at Caitlyn’s fallen face. Her soldiers move to create a ring around you, a sort of battle ring.

“Mother, look at the price of your ambition.” Mel speaks again, glancing around at the chaos of the city, taking another step forward. “You’ve sacrificed everything. Rictus, Kino, the city I built for this family.”

“If it was for us, you wouldn’t have fought me.” Ambessa sneers at her.

Mel scoffs at her mother. “You are no Medarda.”

“You remember your—“

A sudden blow from Caitlyn cuts Ambessa’s response off. “Shut up and fight!”

Caitlyn grabs an unattended spear from the ground, readying herself to take on the warlord. Without words, Ambessa picks up her own spear before launching it at Caitlyn. Mel deflects the spear with her magic, the weapon ricocheting off the shield and embedding itself into one of the Noxian soldiers surrounding the terrace. Ambessa doesn’t wait before sending her foot into Caitlyn, breaking the hilt of her spear and sending her stumbling back. She puts on her own helmet, preparing for a fight against the three of you. Between Mel’s Magic and Caitlyn’s desperation, Ambessa continues to hold her own. Caitlyn and Mel trade attacks, but are unable to do much against the warlord. Mel’s magic just gets absorbed by runic stones wrapped around Ambessa’s arm. The woman fights through a slash to her leg by Caitlyn, easily taking the younger woman down. Mel moves in for a close quarters attack, still using her magic against her to almost no effect.

You stalk around the other side of Ambessa, waiting for a good moment to strike. While she’s distracted with Mel and Caitlyn, you quickly move in, raising your own weapon to take a slash at her. She senses your attack, pushing Mel back before turning her attention to you and colliding with you, flipping you over her shoulder. Her attention is divided by the three of you, but she’s good at staying on top of your movements. You scramble to your feet again, ignoring the searing pain in your abdomen, beating your wings and going in for another attack, this time from above. Ambessa flips Caitlyn onto the ground again, using her stones to simultaneously block another magical attack from Mel. Before you can land a hit on the warlord, she dodges, grabbing one of your wings, and throws you to the ground once more. She doesn’t let go, bringing her foot down on it with a snap. She lets out a smug scoff at your cries of pain, enjoying the way you remain somewhat under her control, even if you’ve broken through the mental force of it. She sends her boot into the side of your head, finally dropping your wing at the dazed expression on your face. She stalks towards Caitlyn, who grabs a broken spear. She moves in for her own attack, but Ambessa quickly reverses the roles, holding the blade dangerously close to Caitlyn’s face. A golden shield tries to prevent the the blade from touching Caitlyn, but in the end, Ambessa’s blade hits his mark, slicing through Caitlyn’s face.

Ambessa stands, triumphant over Caitlyn as she watches the blood gush from her face and onto the ground. She pulls her mask off.

“You fought well, child.” She speaks down to her, watching the blood drip from Caitlyn’s eye.

Her eyes finally catch the small blade in Caitlyn’s hand, the stones on the ground, and it dawns on her.

“Now!” Caitlyn shouts back to Mel.

You glance from your dazed position, over to see Mel rise from the ground, her eyes boring into her mother’s.

“A wolf has no mercy.” She speaks, her hand landing on a thick necklace.

Your vision begins to fade in and out, the combination of the pain and injuries you’ve sustained beginning to take a toll on you. You try to rise, your strength sapped from you from the fight. Pain shoots through your wing. It’s bent at an angle it shouldn’t bend in, in an area that doesn’t bend. Your chest heaves at the pain and exhaustion, but your grit through it, focusing on folding your wings and sealing them back in the ink of your back tattoo. It’s an agonizing process with the damage done to your wing. You no longer feel the pain in your wing, but in the ink embedded in your skin where they’re stored.

When you finally gain the strength to sit up a bit, you look over to see Mel approach her mother. She catches the taller woman, gently bringing her down to the ground and cradling her in her lap. It’s hard to watch. Despite the life the woman had led, she was still Mel’s mother.

You force yourself to your feet, pushing past the pain of a multitude of injuries. As the adrenaline wears off, the pain becomes more pronounced, even revealing injuries you hadn’t realized you’d sustained. You limp over to Mel, lowering yourself to your knees at her side. Your hand rests softly on her shoulder, a small gesture of comfort if she’ll accept it.

That’s when the strings from above latch themselves to every single person, Noxian, Piltovian, Zaunite. Linking them— you— to the Arcane, to Viktor. It feels almost identical to what Singed had done to you, the magic of the arcane flowing almost the same as the Shimmer in your veins.

It doesn’t last long, an explosion from the top of the Hexgates sounds off. The strings are destroyed, dropping everyone back to the ground.

It aggravates your wounds again, your blood pooling on the ground more than before. The feeling of soft hands on your face and shoulder encourage you to open your eyes. You meet Mel’s eyes, concern etched into her features. She looks over your injuries, wincing at the sight of you all beaten up, your blood pooling on the ground beneath you.

You raise a shaky hand to rest on one of her wrists, your fingers gently wrapping around her. She can see the pain in your eyes, and you hers.

“I’m okay…” You try to reassure her, forcing a small smile. “Are you… are you okay?”

You look over her for any injuries of her own before she guides your face back to look at her. “I’m unharmed.” She replies softly.

“Mel… I…” You try to speak, but you’re almost at a loss for words.

Her thumb brushes across your cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

“I’m sorry… I��m so sorry about your mother…” You finally speak, leaning into her touch, your eyes closing again.

“Don’t be.” She responds, her voice soft but firm.

She doesn’t say anything more. She just pulls you closer to her, embracing you gently.

#x reader #fanfiction #arcane league of legends #arcane netflix #mel medarda #mel medarda x reader #arcane mel medarda #arcane mel #lol arcane #arcane lol #arcane #arcane mel x reader #mel medarda x you

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emsdevs · 2 days ago

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Bear and Bug 3: The Distance

a/n: Here is the much-awaited pt 3!! We have a feature from Jack and a glimpse into his friendship with Bug!! Enjoy :)

It didn’t take Quinn long to get back in your good graces, and soon, it was like nothing had happened between you two at all, well, not exactly nothing. Calls between the two of you were significantly more lovey-dovey, and they always ended with a soft “I love you” from each of you, which would have never happened before. The biggest difference, though, was the intense longing you now had to see Quinn. He was right about you only spending time with Jack until it was basically too late, and now you feel like you wasted a lot of time that you could have spent with your new boyfriend. Quinn often assured you that it was okay. He’d promise that summer would come soon enough, and you could spend plenty of time together then.

You couldn’t really believe him, though, because that directly conflicts with the most difficult part of your relationship. Neither of you have spoken a word about it to Quinn’s family, or yours for that matter, and Jack was at the top of the “not telling” list. You and Quinn had decided it was best to keep your romance to yourselves for the moment, not wanting to cause any drama if the distance didn’t work, so you’ve been biting your tongue on every phone call with Jack, trying to keep your mouth shut about it. If you were being honest, the guilt was starting to creep in. He was already having a really tough season, what would he think if he found out his best friend was dating his older brother behind his back? How much worse will it be if he finds out months from now? You weren’t really keen on keeping this secret from Jack in the first place. You two tell each other everything, so you knew he’d be hurt when he eventually found out. However, it was that fear of hurting him that kept you from letting him in. You didn’t want to add to the emotional turmoil he was already in. He had been calling you almost nightly at this point, crying and telling you that he wasn’t even sure he enjoyed hockey anymore. People had been calling him a bust all season, and it was getting to his head, making him wonder why New Jersey would draft him in the first place. After hearing how distraught he’s been all season, you knew you couldn’t add to that.

“I just don’t know what to do,” Jack sighed into the phone one night. “Am I even right for this team? Would I be right for any team?” his voice began to break.

“Jack, no,” you let out a breath, shocked that your confident, easy-going best friend was feeling down enough to doubt his talent, his skill. “I’ve known since we were kids that you were destined for the NHL. The skill that you have is amazing, not to mention the hockey knowledge you have and the way you can read a play. You just have to get adjusted. It’s a big thing to deal with, and the people who know you, the people who matter, aren’t blaming you or getting mad at you. It’ll come. I promise.”

“I guess,” he trailed off a little, still sounding kind of broken. “Can you just get my mind off of it, please? What’s going on with you? You talked to Quinner recently?”

Your eyes widen, grateful that he can’t see your face, “Uhh, yeah, we talked a couple days ago I guess. Why, um, why do you ask?”

“You guys just seemed close at the beginning of summer, and he mentioned something last year about you guys talking quite a bit while you were both at school,” his statement almost sounded like a question, curious as to why you sounded a little panicked.

“Oh yeah,” you chuckled trying to sound more casual, “we did get kind of close then.”

“Yeah,” he dragged the word out a little, “so, um, anyway, how are your classes going?” Jack changed the topic, assuming you were acting weird because of stress or something similar. The phone carried on as they usually did, you spilling nonsense to distract Jack from his NHL stress and Jack gladly listening to whatever stories you have for him, grateful for the distraction.

Your calls with Quinn, however, weren’t always that happy anymore. It suddenly seemed like the calls weren’t enough, that neither of you could keep going on two-hour phone calls every other day.

“Bug, I know it’s difficult, but you could at least act like you’re happy to talk to me,” Quinn was trying, really he was, but he needed you to put in a little effort too.

“I am excited to talk to you. I promise, Bear. I just,” you pause, knowing you’ve had this conversation too many times to count at this point, “I just really wish I could see you.”

Quinn sighs, knowing exactly how you feel, “I get that, I swear because I’m dying to see you again too, but I have no clue when that could happen until summer.”

“What’s your schedule like in December? I could come to Vancouver on my Christmas break,” you had been thinking this for a while, too scared to bring it up until right now.

“Well, we have a home stand right before Christmas. Could that work?” you already knew it could.

“I think so, yeah,” you breathed out a sigh of relief, happy Quinn agreed so easily.

“Okay, I’ll get you a plane ticket for the 16th.”

“Bear, no, I can get my own ticket,” you argued.

“Nonsense. I finally have an excuse to spend my money on my girlfriend. I’m gonna use it. I am wondering though, how are we gonna deal with Jack?”

“I’ll just tell him I’m on a girls’ trip to Vancouver, so I won’t be able to Facetime, only call or text,” you answered, probably a little too quickly. You really already had all of this completely thought out.

“Okay yeah, and I can just keep you out of the screen if anyone Facetimes me,” Quinn agrees, already sounding happier knowing he’d get to see you in just a few weeks.

Two and a half weeks later, Quinn was picking you up from the airport in Vancouver. When you both got back to his apartment, it was like everything fell into place. After a much-needed reunion, and an even more needed nap, you helped Quinn make dinner. Before you knew it, your week with Quinn was almost up, and you’d be leaving the next day. The two of you were spending your last night together curled up on the couch watching cheesy romcoms. Halfway through “10 Things I Hate About You”, your thoughts got the better of you.

“Bear?” you question softly, awaiting Quinn’s response.

“Yeah, Bug?”

“We’ll be okay, right? Like we’ll be able to handle the distance and the secret?” you can’t help but let the doubts creep in.

“Of course we will,” Quinn starts. “We just gotta remember the times like this when we can’t be in the same place. We can’t let the distance get to us, so we have to look forward to when we can be together. If we focus too much on how sad we are when we’re apart, we’ll never be able to be happy together. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it does. I don’t know why I was worried anyway. As long as I’ve got you I’m good,” you lean up to place a kiss on his jawline.

“Yeah, I’m good with you too, Bug,” he returned the action, kissing your forehead.

It would all work out, eventually.

#em's writing #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #qh43 #bear and bug au

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hypertranced · 4 months ago

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begging arcane fans to learn to manage their expectations

#arcane #it speaks #like keep in mind. this season is basically two seasons in one #it's gonna be fast it's gonna be jam packed the pacing might be crazy #dont be going in expecting long runtime of your favorite characters you gotta remember the ones you don't like will get plot relavence #like I see people talking abt hoping heimer or jayce get less time but bffr they're main parts of the political side of arcane #they're gonna get substantial time whether we like it or not

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kelvingemstone · 1 year ago

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a starstruck odyssey is for lovers

#more than acofaf even. the love story of the wurst is what dreams are made of #emilymurph sitting next to each other...skip straightest man ever prince of alien slugs learning to be free bc of the crew...gnosis...#best on average npcs. lucienne plug bambi leroux the butch at the space station fuckin space heiress trust fund baby bajar crunch moon jone #and this is not to say ANYTHING of how good the characters are.#they could keep making d20 seasons forever and starstruck will always be a cut above the rest because of how fucking good the setting is #like with crown of candy even tho i loved it sm i feel like some politics were discarded in favor of the others; all out war was eh to me #the build up to a war tho? now that's interesting that's where the juice is basically i wanted asoiaf book one vibes with this cast but #that's a matter of personal preference! i don't feel like acoc did the most that could've been done with a “politics” campaign #dimension 20 #dropout.tv #a starstruck odyssey #because of their deep investment in the world and the genre it never feels like starstruck couldn't do anything. it feels limitless!#season two...god if they never do one that'd be such wasted capability #ik fantasy high is so beloved and it is a beautiful lasagna of time and playing style but if i could get multiple seasons w starstruck...#the thing that makes asoiaf asoiaf is that we have a similar level of insight into the minds of baddies like the lannisters as we do into #the minds of the clean jesus allegory starks. and in acoc the “worst” character we got from the heroes was lapin n even he was aligned #to the rocks' cause. saccharina WAS a rocks -- that was her whole deal -- and even then she wasn't a morally reproachable character bc #she was right! i wanted acoc to be down and dirty and when they said ravening would be i was excited but even that turned out to be them #destroying a secret cult which was going to kill the world. no really down low shenanigans!

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solarsturniolo · 6 months ago

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𝕻𝖑𝖆𝖞 𝕯𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞 // 𝕸.𝕾. // 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝕺𝖓𝖊

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You never got along with him. Even after years of being friends with his brothers, he never gave you a second glance. He’s hated you for almost six years, what could one weekend at their family’s lake house do to change that?

𝔇𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: None of my stories are real, they are all fictional. You are responsible for what you read. Please read with caution. Practice safe sex. A tritoon is a type of boat. This is a two part story, there will ONLY be two parts and they will be long. THERE WILL NOT BE A THIRD PART TO THIS STORY.

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: This basically turned into a novel. lots of plot (you’ve been warned) / Toxic!Matt (if you squint) / tension building / enemies trope / cursing / SMUT / dumbification kink / p in v / unprotected sex / Dom!Matt / spanking / pet names / lots of dirty talk / a true breeding kink / creampie /

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 15,140

©Solarsturniolo 2024

You were never friends.

How could you be?

His brothers were easy to get along with. Nick cherished you. He had a hard time maintaining friendships, people came and went like the seasons or the wind. It took a while for him to open up fully, afraid that it would be the same with you. But you were different. You stayed during the hard times, loving him when he felt like he couldn’t love himself. It made a change in how he perceived friendships. He rarely went anywhere without offering you an invite. All of his social media pages; an intricate collage of pictures and videos together, capturing your happiest moments with each other. His camera roll practically bursting with memories. Years worth of polaroid pictures remained tacked onto his wall, even as time passed he never took them down. He made his appreciation of your friendship known, never shying away from his platonic love for his best friend.

Chris adored you. In his words, you were like the sister he never had. You immediately clicked the first time you had met, something he wasn’t used to. He was fairly reserved around new people, but you brought his personality out so naturally and easily. People made their assumptions about your relationship with him, it was difficult for them not to when you were both practically joined at the hip; doing everything together even if it was insignificant as going to the garage for a soda or making a trip to the nearby convenience store. He knew everything about you, and you, him. Though his love was platonic, he made it known to everyone: he loved you. Things weren’t perfect, you had arguments and disputes, but at the end of the day he would do anything to repair the cracks and wears in the foundation of your friendship.

Matt despised you. Or, at least, that was how it felt. He never went out of his way to initiate conversation with you, and it was rare for him to acknowledge you in social settings. Sometimes you could feel him looking at you. It was a feeling that made your blood run cold, your skin crawling with goosebumps. It was worse when you caught him; the way his eyes scanned over you, a shit eating smirk plastered on his face as he looked away, paying no mind to you for the rest of the time you were there. It was a weird feeling, one that would keep you up at night. Part of you wanted to smack that grin off of his face, to pluck his wandering eyes right out of his head. You hated the way his gaze objectified you, making you feel weak and helpless while everyone around you remained ignorant to his behavior. You hated the way he’d cut you off when you’d speak, a satisfied smirk creeping onto his face when you’d shut down and shy away from the conversation, only speaking again if prompted by another person.

You knew that he did it for some weird power trip. To control you, at least to a certain extent. Years went by, but his behavior remained a constant variable. How he could go years of giving you the cold shoulder, you had no idea, but he managed to do it with ease. But as the years went by you cared less and less. As long as his sour mood and crude behavior didn’t intervene with the friendships you had built with his brothers, you couldn’t care less…

Or that's what you told yourself.

It ate away at you, no matter how much you told yourself that you didn’t care. Why doesn’t he like me? What did I ever do to him? What do I do to fix it? Why don’t his brothers see it? The way that he looks at me and treats me…Why does it all get swept under the rug? It swirled around your mind, haunting you with hypothetical ideas of how you could have changed everything. Anything you could have done differently just to be on okay terms with him. You weren’t asking for much; you didn’t expect him to be best friends with you, and you certainly had no expectation of him to fall to his knees and declare his undying love for you. But a smile every now and again, a kind word here and there…it would be enough.

It certainly would have made this trip more enjoyable.

“MATT! Quit skipping my music!”

“Or what, Chris? You’ll just queue more-”

Chris leaned over the center console, getting into his brother’s personal space. Matt kept his eyes glued to the wide stretch of road in front of them. “I built that queue from the ground up, I very meticulously chose each song-”

“Chris, what’s the definition of meticulous,” Nick spoke up, his head still resting on your shoulder, eyes glued to his phone. He really wasn’t paying much attention to his brothers squabbling, but his bullshit radar could pick up their nonsense from miles away. The way he interjected himself into the conversation made you smile, he always found a way to be included in their arguments, even if it was just to feed the flame.

Chris turned his head to look at Nick, furrowing his brow at him. “Why do you need the definition if I know how to use the word right?”

“Did you use the word right?” Nick rebutted.

Their argument continued for another ten minutes, even after Chris had Googled the word and passed his phone around as if he were in a blunt rotation, the definition displayed on his screen for everyone to see. His smug demeanor was short lived, though. Matt and Nick very rarely lost an argument with their brother, but when they did, they would share a mutual look and move into Phase Two: gaslight the motherfucker until his brain fried.

Sometimes it was entertaining to watch, but after being trapped in a car with them for, going on, four hours, you were ready for some peace and quiet. The sound of their quarreling became muffled as you put your airpods in, the noise canceling feature kicking into high gear once both pods were snug in place. You flicked through different playlists on your phone before selecting one that was a little less…intense than the music Chris had been playing previously. Pressing the shuffle button, you let your phone fall into your lap, resting your head against the window and watching the endless line of trees pass by. Nothing but brush and trees for miles ahead. You were excited to be going on this trip with some of your best friends, but you couldn’t help the sense of dread that lingered like a shadow in a dark alleyway. Something terrifying looming in the air, a figure of black lurking just out of sight. A bottomless pit of existential worry formed in your stomach just thinking about anything and everything that could go wrong.

This was going to be a long weekend.

X O X O X O

Gravel crunched beneath the tires, loose pebbles flying up as the beast of a vehicle slowly came to a stop in the unpaved driveway.

It was late.

There was still some light outside, enough to see the cluster of dark clouds beginning to close in. The faint warm glow seeping through the windows of houses just across the stream contributed some light, but not much. The dark shadows from the trees absorbed most of it before it could get very far. As the van shifted into park, you lifted your head from where it had been resting, somewhat uncomfortably, against the window. The roar of the engine, that you had all unknowingly grown accustomed to, died down to a soft purr before stopping entirely. The overhead lights flickered to life, illuminating the interior of the car with a hazy yellow glow. For a brief moment, everything came to a complete stop.

Within the next five seconds, three truths became very evident: One; Chris was asleep. Two; Nick was asleep. And three; you were not.

Someone else realized this as well, and his sharp icy glare penetrated your skull like an ice pick through the reflection of his rearview mirror. This didn’t go unnoticed by you, it never did, but it was easier to pretend like it did. As you took out your airpods and tentatively placed them back into their case, you shifted in your seat, the squeaking of the leather just barely being drowned out by the music still playing in the car. The song that softly drifted through the speakers was different from what had been playing earlier; smoother, languid, sultry. The lyrics were alluring and sensual, covered by an addictive instrumental that complimented the underlying provocative tone perfectly. It was sexy, it was passionate…

And it made no appearance on any of Chris’s playlists.

You shifted in your seat again, a sharp inhale coming from the front of the car as the leather squeaked again. “I’ll start unloading the back,” you spoke up, your voice faltering towards the end. He responded with silence, his gaze shifting away from the mirror to stare out of the windshield instead.

Gravel crunched beneath the soles of your shoes as you stepped out of the van. You took a deep breath as you escaped the tense atmosphere in the car, not realizing you had been holding your breath until now. The air was crisp, underlying earthy and musty tones accompanying the clean, fresh breeze that swept over your shoulder. The faint smell of rain began to grow heavy in the air, the dark clouds overhead drawing in. Treading to the back of the car, you opened the trunk and began unloading the bags that were messily stacked on top of each other.

Chris and Nick emerged from the passenger side of the car, both of them trudging over to collect their things. It was clear they hadn’t woken up willingly. Nick’s cowlick stuck out like a sore thumb, his eyelids heavy with sleep. Chris yawned obnoxiously, earning himself an irritated glare from his brother. You laughed softly at the sight, handing them their respective bags. Like a bat out of hell, Matt came around to the back of the car and tugged his luggage out from the trunk, his elbow knocking into your arm in the process. He didn’t pay you a second glance as he slammed the trunk shut, his footsteps heavy and dragging as he walked down the gravel driveway.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Great. We just love grumpy Matt,” he huffed, his tone laced with sarcasm. You offer an apologetic smile, feeling somewhat responsible for Matt’s attitude. It was nothing new, this was his behavior any time you happened to be around, but you knew his brothers must have been getting tired of the same old practices coming from him.

As you followed the other two, Chris slowed his strides to walk with you. Carrying his luggage in his right hand, he hooked his left arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “Hey, you know I can see what you’re thinkin’, right?” He starts, his hand giving your shoulder a soft squeeze. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I feel like I did…” you sighed, not looking up at him. Nick was oblivious to the interaction, his spatial awareness being almost entirely eradicated when he was half asleep. It didn’t take long for him to disappear from view into the house.

Chris shrugged. “Well, what did you do then?” he questioned. This time you did look up at him, brow furrowed and a glint of confusion in your eyes.

“I-I don’t know what I did…”

“Then it’s not you,” Chris smiled. “All him. Don’t pay him any attention. I don’t know what’s got his fucking nuts in a knot, but he’s gonna have to get over it,” he continued. Chris took your bag from your hands as you approached the front porch steps, carrying it up to the door for you. “We’re gonna have fun this weekend, even with Miserable Matt here. Don’t let him get to you.”

Chris handed your bag back to you, his all too familiar boyish grin making an appearance on his face. It was hard not to return the favor, smiling back at him as you slung the strap of the bag over your shoulder. Chris reached out, his fingers brushing the underside of your chin. “Head up, kid,” he tells you. The loud rumble overhead makes both of you flinch, mirroring each other as you and him look up to the sky. Charcoal clouds flood the open sky, blocking out the vivid shades of orange and pink that would have painted the heavens in their beautiful hues. Chris blindly reached out, opening the door to his family’s vacation home. “C’mon,” he mumbled, beckoning you inside.

You didn’t move for a second. Getting struck by lightning was almost more appealing than being trapped in a house with Matt for an entire weekend.

Almost.

You step through the doorway and let the strap of your bag slip off of your shoulder, the bag landing on the floor with a soft thud. The door shut behind you as Chris came inside as well, the deadbolt lock clicking into place. Muffled arguing could be heard from upstairs, followed by the loud slam of a door. ‘We’re gonna have fun this weekend.’ His words taunted you.

“Not likely,” you huffed.

X O X O X O

What started as a movie night (an attempt to relax and unwind after your long, tiring road trip), quickly began to progress into a memorable night, just not for the better. You should have known to dismiss yourself when Nick suggested watching a romantic comedy, earning an annoyed grunt from his brother who was sulking at the far end of the sectional. His feet kicked up onto the coffee table as he reclined deep into the cushions on the couch. His blatant disregard and disrespect for his parents’ beautiful (and expensive) furniture made you scoff.

He shot you a hostile glare, testing you to say what you had been thinking; His electric blue irises, like icicles piercing your skin. Thoughts swirled around in your head as you avoided his gaze, looking straight ahead at the television as Nick flicked through page after page of options, stopping occasionally to read the summary of something that caught his eye. The silence was deafening, you were sure they could all hear you swallowing the lump that had been lodged in your throat. You felt a chill run through you; Even with Chris sitting so close you couldn’t help but feel cold. Frozen.

“Or we could watch something that won’t bore us all to tears,” Chris suggested, his arm hooking over the back of the sofa. In a spur of passive aggressive frustration, Nick hurled the remote at his brother. The impact was intense enough to draw a groan out of him, and he scowled at Nick as he picked the remote controller up. “I hope the bed bugs DO bite, tonight,” he grunted.

Nobody even cared about what was put on anymore, just as long as it would break the uncomfortable tension that surrounded them. Finally deciding on a horror movie, Matt switched off the lamp that was next to the couch, the only light in the room coming from the television. Muffled thunder could be heard from outside, and occasionally a white flash of lightning would light up the sky with deep purple shadows. The rain had started a while ago, though it was much more noticeable now as it created a steady rhythm on the roof. The aged wooden boards of the house moaned and creaked with the howling of the wind. Chris turned the volume up on the television to drown out the outside noises.

Nick was the first to leave. Halfway through the movie, he got up from his spot and shuffled out of the room without a word. Nick wasn’t very chatty when he was tired, usually just communicating through soft grunts and hums, but he was too exhausted to even do that. The floorboards on the stairs groaned with each step he took, though it was only really noticeable if you had been paying attention.

And you had been paying attention.

Chris looked down, seeing that your focus wasn’t on the movie playing in front of you, but instead you were staring off towards the staircase that was hidden in the dark shadows of the entryway. He nudged you softly with his arm to break your focus. “He’s just tired. ‘S okay,” he assures you.

“He seems mad,” you pointed out.

“He’s not mad. He’s been up since seven this morning, and we all know he’s not a morning person.”

Matt shifted in his spot, inhaling sharply and exhaling just as obnoxiously. Your gaze shifted from Chris to his irritated brother. He didn’t even have to look at you, you could tell exactly how he felt. His posture was as terrible as always, but he was tense, the outline of his shoulder blades evident through his t-shirt. His jaw clenched, emotionless eyes glaring at the television. Arms crossed over his chest, the veins in his arms standing out as his biceps flexed. It didn’t take a body language expert to tell that he was angry, or at the very least annoyed.

You went quiet as you turned your attention back to the television. You hoped that Chris hadn’t noticed your change in demeanor. The last thing you wanted was to ruin this weekend just by being present; by doing something to make it all about you. Arguing and fighting with Matt would make it about you. Talking to Chris or Nick about it would make it about you. Showing any emotional response to it would make it about you. The easiest thing to do in this situation was stay reserved.

But Chris was much too conscious of you and your feelings, he always had been. That was one thing you loved so much about him; he was just as in tune with your emotions as he was with his own. However, when he turned his head to glare in his brother’s direction, you wished, for once, that he hadn’t been. “What, Matt.” His voice was gruff and demanding, not even a hint of questioning in his voice. He had gotten sick of Matt’s nasty attitude approximately four and a half years ago, and he officially had enough. “What’s pissing you off this time.”

Matt spared his brother a glance, his eyes refusing to meet yours. “You know how you’re not supposed to talk in the movie theater?” Matt started, pursing his lips as he waited for his brother to reply. Chris rolled his eyes in response. “Same rule typically applies at home.” His tone was passive aggressive, and that was when he finally made eye contact with you. “It’s quite rude.”

“You’re one to talk,” Chris scoffed.

“The fuck does that mean?”

You tugged softly at the sleeve of Chris’s t-shirt, attempting to pull his attention away. “It’s fine-“

“No, it’s not fucking fine,” Chris interrupted. He paused the movie, tossing the remote controller in his brother’s direction. “I don’t know what weird ass Netflix Original Series you think you’re in, but this fucking attitude is insufferable,” Chris snapped. He stood up, grabbing his phone off of the coffee table, stuffing it into his pocket. “You give me a fucking headache.”

“What are you fucking talking about? Netflix Original Series? What kind of comparison is that?” Matt scoffed.

“A pretty fucking good one. You’ve got this weird ass angsty attitude and nobody can fucking stand it.”

Matt shifted in his spot, his confidence faltering. “Wh- I don’t-“

Chris shot his brother another glare. “Oh, but you actually do. And you act all big and tough until someone finally calls you out on your bullshit. You’ve been on this shit for six fucking years and I’ve fucking had it,” Chris grumbled. His demeanor changes quickly, the flame inside of him burning out. He rubbed his tired eyes as he walked away from the sofa, blindly making his way to the staircase. He grunted out a soft ‘m goin’ to bed’ before disappearing up the stairs, just as Nick had done earlier.

The floorboards from upstairs could be heard with each step Chris took, muffled creaks and squeaks barely filling the uncomfortable silence in the room until they stopped all together. The dull drumming of the raindrops on the roof filled the uncomfortable silence that engulfed you and Matt as you sat there, refusing to look at each other. There was a soft crackle of television static, and the faint roar of the thunder outside, but nothing else.

After a few minutes had passed (which had felt more like an hour) you finally decided to steal a glance. Between the light illuminating from the TV and the flash of lightning from outside, all of his features seemed to stand out more so than ever before. The deep shadows beneath his jaw, the light reflecting off of his perfect skin. He pursed his plump lips, almost as if he was about to say something. His earrings glimmered in the dark room, swinging as he turned his head. You felt your heart drop as his eyes locked with yours for the third time that evening. But for once, his gaze held nothing hostile or hateful. His gaze faltered, looking at the couch cushion beside you. He didn’t say anything. He seemed apologetic. Regretful. Remorseful; Something you weren’t sure he was capable of feeling. His fingers picked at the loose threads on the armrest of the sofa, his eyes darting back and forth between the cushions and you.

You could have drowned in the tension; it flooded the room out of nowhere. It had never been like this before, but then again you had never been left alone with Matt before either. As the tension grew, so did the pit in your stomach. Is he going to snap? What is he thinking? Why hasn’t he said anything? Does he want me to apologize? Why is he acting like this? Why won’t he just get it over with and yell at me? As the thoughts began to consume your entire being, you found your chest constricting, the air catching in your throat with each breath you tried to take.

“Are you-”

You stood up from the couch the second he spoke. “Yeah, I’m going,” you replied, gracelessly stepping around the coffee table. His brow furrowed as he followed you with his gaze. You paid little attention to it. You were much more focused on getting the fuck out of there. Before he could get another word out, you had already left the room. Making a beeline for your designated room down the hall, you closed the door behind you, finally taking a second to catch your breath.

This was going to be a very long weekend.

X O X O X O

“Why can’t I drive the boat?”

“You can’t even drive a car, why the fuck would we let you drive the boat?” Nick scoffed, looking at his phone attentively. He had gotten comfortable in his seat, taking one of the captain's seats under the shade of the tritoon. His feet were kicked up, heels resting on the leather lounge seats along the inside of the boat. “You need a boating license.”

You had decided to sit on the lounge seats opposite to the ones Nick was using as a personal footrest, soaking up the rays of the sun as they beamed down from the heavens, spears of light penetrating the clouds above.

Chris stepped onto the boat swiftly, putting down the cooler that he had carried all the way from the house. You weren’t sure why he didn’t wait to fill the cooler once you all had gotten onto the boat, but Chris insisted that he could carry it by himself. You also weren’t quite sure why he had decided to wear a hoodie in 95-degree weather, which surely wasn’t making the job any easier on him. He let out a soft breath as he placed the cooler by the driver’s console, popping it open and pulling an orange Fanta from where it had been buried in the ice. “...Like from SpongeBob?” Chris questioned in response to Nick’s previous comment. He cracked the soda open and brought it to his lips.

“Or like legally?! You fucking moron?!” Nick retorted, a dumbfounded look finding a way onto his face, his gaze tearing away from his phone to look at you as if to say, ‘are you hearing this shit too?’. You smiled, biting the inside of your cheek to hold back a laugh.

Chris narrowed his eyes, scowling at his brother. After he had finished taking a much-needed drink, Chris put the can in a random nearby cup holder. “No need to be rude.”

Nick shook his head in disbelief. “You’re unreal,” he muttered, looking at his phone once again. “If you get pulled over without one-”

“You can’t get pulled over on the water.”

Slowly, Nick turned his head toward you, the same dumbfounded look on his face. You couldn’t hold back your laughter, his reaction was unexpected, but hilarious at the same time. “Am I- Are you-” Nick started, gesturing toward you with his phone. Finally, he looked over at Chris again. “Are you a real fucking person? There is no fucking way you just said that with a straight face. Like, I’m genuinely shocked…No, you know what-” he cut himself off, opening his safari app. He made a quick google search before continuing his harangue. “I am stunned. I am astonished. I am dumbfounded, oh that’s a good one… I am aghast. I am appalled. I am flabbergasted-”

“Alright, man,” Matt interrupted him, stepping onto the boat with a few bags in his hands, all of them filled with snacks that the boys had stocked up on earlier that morning when they went on their grocery store run. “I think we got it.”

He looked sickeningly good this morning. Nothing about what he was wearing was very out of the ordinary, for him at least. A simple white tank top, his renowned blue flannel pyjama pants, and his signature horse pendant: it was simple, it was effortless, it made you want to rip your hair out. You truly envied Matt’s ability to always look good, no matter the time of day or what he was wearing. It wasn’t fair how he could just roll out of bed and look like he had just walked out of a Calvin Klein photoshoot. Then again, nothing about how he looked was fair. His high cheekbones, his sharp jawline, perfectly clear skin; It was a shame he was such a dick.

Chris pouted, crossing his arms over his chest before slumping down into the seat next to you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You tore your gaze away from Matt, looking back in Chris’s direction, giggling softly upon seeing the look on his face: defeated and sulking. Nick rolled his eyes at his brother’s childish behavior. He leaned over, pulling an ice-cold Dr.Pepper out of the cooler, cracking it open to take a sip. Chris uncrossed his arms so that he could mock his brother before slinging his arm behind your back, resting it on the railing of the boat. Chris used his free hand to lift his sunglasses, eyeing Matt who stepped off of the boat and back onto the dock. “You sure you don’t wanna come? The Rogers’ are blowing the tube up,” Chris commented, an attempt to persuade his brother into joining them.

Matt scratched the back of his neck, meeting Chris’s gaze while completely avoiding yours. “In a bit. I haven’t been able to focus a lot back home and I wanted to try to work on Yesterday’s Problem stuff while we’re out here,” he explained, his arm dropping back to his side. “I’ll call you in a bit when I’m done, I just…” Matt trailed off, looking back toward the cabin. “I dunno, I feel inspired, I guess. Motivated.”

“Good,” Nick said simply, placing his beverage in the cupholder in his seat. “It only took you ten months.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “I’m well aware how long it’s been taking,” he grunted. For a moment, his eyes flickered toward you, though you had stopped looking at him a while ago. He shoved his hands into his pockets, jaw clenching as he forced himself to look away.

“Alright. Just call me when you’re ready, we’ll come back around and get you,” Chris shrugged, not caring either way. Matt mumbled something under his breath before turning and heading back towards the house. Chris rolled his eyes as he picked his drink up, taking another sip from it. “Fucker. Probably still mad about last night,” he huffed, pulling you in closer to his side. “Whatever, we’re still gonna have fun, right?”

For some reason, you felt a weird tightening in your stomach as you watched Matt trudge back towards the house, the sounds of his footsteps growing fainter as he stepped off of the dock. You weren’t sure why you felt this way, almost disappointed that he wasn’t coming too. It was a strange feeling, because you knew deep down that even if he had come, he wouldn’t spare a glance or even a breath in your direction. There was no logical explanation for it, there was no reason why you should want him there, but you did.

Maybe a part of you hoped that you could sort out your differences. That maybe one conversation alone was all you would need to build a healthy foundation for your friendship. But you didn’t need a time machine to know that would never happen. Having a one-on-one heart to heart with the man that refused to speak to you or look at you…Disney couldn’t find a way to romanticize that one even if they tried.

“Hey.”

You looked up, his voice dragging you from your thoughts. Chris smiled as your gaze met his, holding out his fist. “Forget him. We’ll have fun without him.” You offered Chris a sheepish smile, gently bumping your fist against his.

“Whatever you say, Chris.”

X O X O X O

“You sure you wanna be in a house alone with Miserable Matt?”

The time had flown since that morning, hours passing in what felt like minutes. The boys’ neighbors were an absolute delight. You were afraid that they wouldn’t like you, or that they’d be standoffish towards you, but you were pleasantly surprised at how welcoming they had been. Nothing but kindness was directed your way, making it far easier to relax and enjoy your excursion out on the boat with everyone. But by the time you had gone on your third tube ride with Chris, you finally started to feel the fatigue kicking in.

“I don’t plan on interacting with him,” you laughed lightheartedly, looking over at Chris as you stepped off of the boat and onto the dock. “But I am in desperate need of a shower and a nap.”

Chris pouted, resting his chin on his arms that were folded over the edge of the lounge seats. “You sure you don’t wanna hang out just a little longer?”

“You’ll see me in a little bit. Spend some time with Nick,” you suggested, watching as the two boys turned their heads to make eye contact. Nick grimaced, shaking his head at the thought. You let out another quiet laugh at their typical brotherly behavior. “I’ll see you guys when you get back,” you stated, waving your hand dismissively as you started the walk down the dock. They called out their farewells as their neighbor expertly maneuvered the boat back out onto the lake.

Getting into the house was easy; Matt didn’t bother to lock the door behind him when he stayed back. As you quietly slipped into the kitchen, you heard the faint music that was playing just down the hallway. ‘As long as I stay quiet, he won’t even know I’m here.’ With that thought fresh in mind, you paid extra mind to close the door behind you with attentiveness, a dull click floating in the air for a moment as the latch slipped into place. Once a few seconds had passed, you made your way through the kitchen, shifting your weight with each step you took to keep your footsteps silent.

Making your way upstairs was tricky, but once you had made it to your room without drawing his attention, a wave of relief washed over you. You closed the door gently before letting out a deep exhale, taking a few steps into the room before collapsing back onto the bed. You weren’t sure why you were so afraid of your presence disrupting whatever it was that he was doing. Sure, he was an asshole, but he had never done anything to strike that much fear into your heart. Still, the adrenaline rush of not getting caught was like a drug, your heart pounded, you could feel it in your ears as the blood rushed to your head. Nothing you had done was wrong, but it almost felt like it as Matt unknowingly sat in his room just below.

It only took a few minutes for you to undress, your body wrapped in a bathroom towel as you went around your room to collect the things you would need for your shower. Your heart dropped into your stomach as your toiletries bag slipped out of your hand, landing on the floor with a loud thud. The products that had been securely tucked inside, now scattered around the room. “Motherfucker- Shit!” you hissed under your breath as you got down to clean them up, stuffing them back into the toiletry bag in your hand. A gleam caught your eye, your head turning to see that some of the products had rolled underneath the bed as well.

‘Now this is just the opening scene of a poorly directed porno,’ you thought to yourself, huffing in annoyance as you bent down, slipping your head and neck under the bed. You used your hands to push yourself forward, your shoulders and back now able to slip under as well. Upon moving further under the bed, it became increasingly obvious that the bottle was too far out of reach, but still you made an attempt. The floorboards creaked and groaned as you shifted your weight, trying your hardest to reach out and grab the mini shampoo bottle. You closed your eyes tightly, the noises almost sounding louder than they normally would.

You prayed that the music had drowned the sound out, that Matt hadn’t heard the numerous bottles rolling around or the sound of the old wooden floors that gave away any movement that was made in their presence. You especially hoped he hadn’t heard the sound of your head bumping against the wooden bedframe as you tried to slip back out, abruptly stopping when the towel caught onto a nail in the wood, preventing you from moving.

But of course, your luck had seemed to run out. You felt your heart racing in your chest, your voice getting lodged in your throat at the sound of his footsteps slowly coming up the stairs. You tried again to free yourself, but to no avail. You were screwed, he had caught you. You knew you’d be getting an earful from him once that door opened, but he took his time, his footsteps remaining slow and heavy as he made his way down the hallway. Your eyes screwed shut as the door to the bedroom creaked open slowly. It was quickly followed by silence, but not a regular silence. A thick silence. A silence that made your heart ram against your ribcage. A silence that made you feel like you were about to be torn apart, limb by limb.

“There’s no fucking way-” his voice was hoarse, like he had just seen a ghost. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

X O X O X O

Matt stared at the screen, a yawn slipping past his lips, eyelids heavy with boredom. He had made very little progress on his personal project, though that was no surprise to him. How was he supposed to focus on anything after this morning? Seeing you prancing around in that tiny bikini, leaving so little to the imagination. He tried to push the thoughts out of his head, he always tried but very rarely did he succeed. The image burned into his brain, your skin glowing from the sunscreen you had put on just a few moments prior, your head tilted back as you basked in the warmth of the sunshine.

He huffed, closing his eyes as he tried to avoid the thought all together. He groaned, his dick stiffening in his pants. His hand slipped over the bulge in his pants, his jaw going slack as he palmed himself slowly. His brow furrowed, eyes staying closed as he thought about how pretty you had looked laid out on those leather seats; Your collarbones taunting him, the valley between your breasts practically yearning for his dick to slide between them. Matt’s fingers wrapped around the outline of his cock, stroking himself through the thin fabric of his pyjama pants. Another soft groan fell from his lips as his imagination plagued him with filthy thoughts.

‘It’s fine, nobody’s home. Nobody will know.’

Matt shoved his laptop to the empty side of the bed. He situated himself, slightly lifting his hips to pull his pyjama pants down just enough for his cock to slip out. His eyes fluttered open for a moment as he wrapped his fist around his shaft, using his thumb to tease himself, gently rubbing at his tip.

‘Nobody has to know.’

He let his eyes fall shut again, his head falling back against the headboard. Oh how he wished he could have made his brothers disappear. To suddenly snap his fingers and have you all to himself. To be the only two people on that boat, out in the middle of the lake, bending you over the console with his hand covering your mouth. Matt whimpered at the thought of you on display just for him. Your top discarded on the floor, ample breasts bouncing with each thrust of his hips as he held the fabric of your bathing suit bottom aside, having no patience to remove it. His forehead pressed to yours, heavy breaths fanning across his knuckles as he muffled your moans with his palm. “Other people are trying to relax on their vacation too, baby,” he would whisper to you, his cock driving into you deeper and deeper. “Can’t ruin that for them, now, can we? That’s not very fair, is it?”

Matt inhaled sharply, his hand finding a steady pace. He pumped his cock, a ring of precum forming at the base of his fist as it slipped up and down his shaft with ease. It was no use, this was how it always ended: Matt would try with every ounce of self control to focus, to work, to do anything of substance, and each time he would be distracted by you. Even now, with you on a boat in the middle of the lake, he could only focus on you. Your presence taunted him, consistently reminding him that he had to behave himself. That his brothers were there, and that he couldn’t just lay you down on the couch, sprawled out and writhing beneath him while he buried himself between your thighs.

His heart skipped a beat, his hand slowing to a stop at the base of his cock. Panting softly, Matt paused and looked towards the ceiling, the faint sound of plastic and glass rolling around suddenly grasping his attention. He waited, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, almost as if he was waiting for something else; Another noise to confirm his suspicions.

When he heard the loud thud, he quickly tugged at his waistband, securing himself behind the confines of his pyjama bottoms. He scrambled out of bed, grabbing the nearest inanimate object on his way out of the room, which just so happened to be a random antique candle holder that his mother had bought specifically for their vacation home. She had a habit of decorating the cabin with numerous knick knacks and novelties, who knew they could potentially come in handy?

Matt circled the corner, beginning his ascent up the staircase. He cursed under his breath as the floorboards squeaked, surely giving himself away to any potential intruder that had snuck into the house. His grip tightened around the antique, his knuckles turning white. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Matt chewed on his lip as he braced himself for the worst. He stepped forward, making his way down the hallway in slow strides. ‘Somebody snuck in, they’re in your room going through your things. Thank God you went out with Chris and Nick today, who knows what could have happened to you if you hadn’t.’ He stopped just outside of the bedroom door, his chest tightening with fearful anticipation. Matt took a sharp inhale before he grasped the doorknob, turning it and pushing the door open slowly.

His brain short circuited as he stood in the doorway. “There’s no fucking way-” he croaked out, licking his lips like a man starved, his pupils dilating at the sight in front of him. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

There you were, in all your glory. His dick ached at the sight of you stuck halfway under your bed, your hips up and the hem of your towel just barely protecting your modesty. A soft whine from beneath the bedframe caught his attention. “I-I didn’t mean t-to get stuck,” you timidly spoke. Matt couldn’t do anything but watch, his jaw slack, the candle holder slipping from his fingers and clattering to the floor. “I just came back to shower, I wasn’t trying to bother you.”

There was just no way that this was an accident. Something had heard his prayers and delivered in the most pleasantly delectable way possible. He blinked a few times as he stood there, unsure if what he was seeing was just a figment of his incredibly active imagination. His jaw clenched as he stepped into the room, adjusting to the reality of the situation. “I can’t have a single fucking day,” Matt muttered, towering over you as he approached the bed, his cock throbbing as you pressed your thighs together tightly. “Not one single goddamn day without you being there.”

You whimpered softly at the sound of his footsteps drawing in closer, the heat rising to your cheeks as you became painfully aware of how exposed you were in this moment. The only thing shielding his wandering gaze was the thin fabric tightly wrapped around you. His voice was thick with something, of what you weren’t sure. He had never spoken to you like this before, and something about it made your head spin. “I’m sorry, I-I-I don’t know-”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” he interrupted, swiftly dropping to his knees. Your heart jumped up into your throat as you felt him move down between your legs, his hands gentle as they caressed your calves. The unexpected touch sent a shiver down your spine. You gasped as he moved himself closer, his hips pressing against yours. Matt nearly came in his pants as he watched your own hips press back against his instinctively, a sight he thought he would never see. He watched with a lazy gaze, his jaw slack as your hips molded against his perfectly, like you were made just for him. One of his hands reached up, grasping at the comforter on the bed in a desperate attempt to maintain his composure. “You want me to help you get out, princess?” he taunted, his other hand moving to gently grasp your waist.

You squirmed beneath his touch, unfamiliar with this side of him, though you weren’t complaining. His words made your head feel fuzzy, like tv static. Swallowing your nerves, you let another soft whine escape your throat. You knew it was wrong, allowing this to happen instead of fighting it after the way he had treated you for years. Still, you couldn’t ignore the ache between your legs as he touched you like you were made of glass, as if the slightest bit of force would shatter you. After years of getting the cold shoulder and nothing but passive aggressive comments, you had never expected that he would be so gentle. You whimpered at the sound of him chuckling, his fingers toying with the towel wrapped around you. “Oh no…you don’t want help getting out, do you?” he sighed, a smirk tugging at his lips as he moved his hips back, amused at the sight of your hips following, desperate to stay connected. “You like it, huh? Being at my mercy, stuck right here just for me,” he continued. “Like the universe wanted this. Wanted me to find you and ruin you,” he growled. His humiliating words made your face flush with a deep blush. “Come on, doll. You know I need to hear you,” he mumbled.

An embarrassed whine spilled from your lips. “Y-Yes, I-I like it.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear him inhale deeply at your confession. His hands slid gently over your lower back, his fingers digging into your hips. “Fuck, ‘s like you knew I was beatin’ my dick, thinkin’ ‘bout you in that tiny fuckin’ swimsuit,” Matt grunted softly. His words hit you like a semi-truck, completely blindsided by his suppressed feelings, but you had little time to process before he started again. “Fuck, you looked so fuckin’ pretty in that swimsuit, darlin’. Got my dick so fuckin’ hard just seeing your tits stuffed into that itty bitty top. Such a naughty fuckin’ girl, gettin’ me all riled up in front of my brothers.”

His words were filthy, his tone dark and hungry with lust. His eyes flickered down, the blood rushing right to his cock as he watched your thighs press together tightly. His firm hands slid over the curve of your ass, the towel still hiding your body from him. A voice in the back of his head screamed for him to tear it away from you, to leave you completely bare and at his mercy. Despite the burning desire inside of him, craving to feel you and see you at your most vulnerable, he knew he was already riding a very fair line. The last thing he wanted at this moment was to overstep the boundaries he was already inching closer and closer to. “What‘re you tryin’ to hide there?” he cooed devilishly, testing the waters as he slowly slipped his hand beneath your towel, his fingers softly grazing your inner thigh. “You don’t gotta hide from me, little one.”

He didn’t move further than that, his thumb rubbing circles into your inner thigh. Your knees wobbled, the tightness in your clenched thighs growing weaker and weaker. He could feel the trembling in your legs, and yet he didn’t react. It made you feel dizzy how your desperate state seemed to have no effect on him. You whined, your eyes glossing over with frustrated tears as you ached for him, your arousal slipping down your thighs.

He watched intently, a primal desire burning deep within him. He knew what he wanted, and he was more than ready to take it, but he needed to know that you wanted it too. He needed to know that it was mutual, that he wasn’t crazy for thinking that you could crave him in the same way he had craved you all of these years. He had to know that you desired him, that you wanted him, that you needed him. You had to need him. You had to crave him.

His mouth went dry as you arched your back ever so slightly, your hips pressing back against nothing as you made a blind attempt to feel him. A defeated mewl from you made his heart swell, his cock straining against the fabric of his pyjama pants, begging to be set free from its cotton confinements. His lips parted, letting out a shaky exhale. He was ready to stop, afraid that he was pushing you too far, though that line had been crossed the moment he knelt down between your thighs. ‘She’s helpless, I’m taking advantage of her, what was I fucking thinking?’ Just as he started to retract his hand, he heard the soft, pleading whine that was trapped from beneath the bed frame. It was unintelligible what you had said, and yet it still managed to make his body flood with warmth. He stilled his movements entirely, unsure if he had heard you correctly. Was his mind playing tricks on him? He couldn’t have made that up…

“Say that again for me, baby. I didn’t quite catch that,” he instructed.

You couldn’t deny it any longer. The desire was too overwhelming to push aside. “M-More, f-fuck please…m-more.”

Silence followed, making you uneasy with anticipation. His hand remained between your thighs, but you ached to feel more of him. “You know, I was supposed to be working.” Your body trembled as his fingers inched further up your thigh. “How am I supposed to get anything done with you around, hm? How am I supposed to focus? You weren’t even in the house and I still couldn’t think about anything but you,” he growled lowly. His fingers grasped the hem of the towel and he pushed it up past your thighs, his eyes darkening as he finally caught a glimpse of what he had longed to see for so long. Matt leaned down; he needed to get a better look. He needed the image to be burned into his brain. He needed to see it when he closed his eyes. His hands grasped the back of your thighs, spreading them with a gentle firmness; he didn’t want to hurt you or push you further than you wanted, but like an animal stalking its prey, he wanted to take his time. Matt didn’t want to scare you off, he didn’t want you to run away. He wanted to feel you surrender to him, letting him tear you apart, letting him devour you until you were nothing. “You’re a sight, darlin’. Prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen,” he mumbled, his voice thick with desire as he watched your desire drool from your folds. “Beg me.”

Your body tensed at his demand, your stomach twisting into knots. He was teasing you and it was making your brain melt. “M-Matt, p-please,” you mewled weakly.

“Please what?”

“M-More-” you choked out.

“Come on now, you can do better than that, little bunny.” The nickname was unexpected, but the whine that it drew from you was enough encouragement for him to continue. He chuckled as your thighs filled his palms, your hips desperately pressing back once again, eager to feel anything more from him. Matt licked his lips, the creamy desire between your legs begging for him to have a taste, your pussy tempting him like a ripened peach on a warm summer afternoon, teeth penetrating the ample fruit, sweet juices slipping down his chin carelessly. “Go on, baby, try again,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning over your heat.

It was like he had flipped a switch in your brain, and he hadn’t even done anything yet. Your body reacted to every touch, his cold fingertips contrasting with the heat that surfaced your skin. Your lips parted to speak, desperate to tell him exactly how you needed him, everything that you craved from him; But nothing came out. You squirmed around in a pathetic attempt to free yourself just enough to close the space between you. “Oh, my dumb little bunny. Trying to run away already?” He teased, moving one of his hands up your thigh, thumbing slowly at your folds. “Before I’ve even gotten to taste you?”

Your knees felt weak as his thumb circled your clit, his strokes gut-wrenchingly slow. “Nowhere for you to run, bunny. You’re all mine.” It amused him, the way you attempted to grind your hips to feel just a little more friction from him. “You’re not goin’ anywhere until I’m done with this pretty little pussy.”

“Y-Yours,” you squeaked out. You wanted to say so much more, but that was enough for him. A satisfied smirk curled at his lips. He had you exactly where he wanted you. Years of him dreaming and fantasizing of having you all to himself, thinking that would be the furthest he would ever get with you…years spent daydreaming and envisioning every possible scenario with you...it had all paid off. This wasn’t a dream; this wasn’t his imagination. You were here with him. You were exposed for him, begging for him, giving yourself to him.

“You learn fast, don’t you? That’s my girl. Maybe you’re not so dumb after all,” Matt mumbled, burying himself between your plush thighs. His thumb slipped away from your clit and down between your slick folds, a chuckle eliciting from the back of his throat. He loved the sounds you made in response to his touch, and he never wanted it to end. If he could tie you down and lay with you, toying with you all day long just to hear your beautiful cries and prayers, he would do it in a heartbeat. He groaned softly, your arousal coating his fingers as he slipped them between your folds, spreading them apart. “God I can’t wait to watch you fall apart on my cock.”

In an instant, he closed the space between you, his tongue tentatively swiping over your dripping folds. You let out a soft cry at the contact, resting your cheek against the cool wooden floor. Pride rushed through him at the rewarding sound. He hummed at the taste of you on his tongue, a sweetness had never indulged in before now drowning his taste buds. A growl grew at the back of his throat as your hips pressed back pathetically and he tightened his grasp on the back of your thighs, holding you in place. “I didn’t say you could do that.”

You dug your nails into the crevices in the wood floor, biting down on your bottom lip to contain your desperate pleas for more. You had never felt more sexually frustrated in your life. Sure you had sex in the past, but it had always been lousy and sloppy.

It had also always been planned. Expected. Predictable. And this was anything but.

“I can play nice with you, little bunny,” he taunted, his tongue tracing your creamy folds with patience. He planted a gentle kiss to your clit, his pride only increasing at the sound of your breath catching in your throat. “And I want to play nice with you. Make you feel good,” he continued, his breath hot against your heat. “But if you’re not gonna behave, I’m gonna have to play dirty,” he smirked, flicking his tongue over your clit, just barely enough to stimulate you. You choked out a whine and clawed at the floor as you tried your hardest to contain your desires. Using every last ounce of your self control to not grind your hips back, to not fuck yourself on his tongue. “You don’t want me to play dirty, baby. I’ll keep you here all night, just like this. For hours and hours and hours,” he continued to taunt, his tone raspy but controlled as he continued to speak slowly. He let his fingers replace his tongue for a moment, spreading your folds to admire the way your arousal drooled from your entrance. “I’ll keep you here and use this pretty pussy until I can’t fill it any more. Even when you’re so full, and my cum is oozing outta you-“ he paused, painting the visual out in his head. He didn’t think it was possible for his dick to get harder than it already was, but the image of you, defeated and squirming, knees wobbling, barely able to hold yourself up as his cum spilled out of you; It was all more than enough to make his cock stiffen even more. “I’ll keep you here just to watch you. There’s no escaping from me, little one. Now, are you going to behave?”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his finger slipping through your drenched folds, circling your entrance slowly. “Y-Yes,” you breathed out. “I’ll be good, I’ll behave-“

That was all it took for him to plunge his finger into your dripping heat. Surprisingly, he was the one to let out a groan. “So fuckin’ tight. Fuck, I knew you’d be tight-“ he grunted. In a slow motion, he retracted his digit from your entrance, watching with a predatory glare in his eyes as the light reflected from the arousal that coated his finger. A string of your wetness was all that connected his finger with your pussy, even as he brought his finger to his lips, licking it clean. “You ever been touched like this before?”

“Y-Yes,” you choked out. It wasn’t a lie, you had been touched like this before, but never in the same way he was doing it. The men you had been with were careless, rough, impatient, needy. Matt was the opposite. Despite knowing his brothers could come back from their relaxing day out on the lake at any moment, he was patient. He was slow, attentive to every sound and movement you made. He was gentle, his focus solely on making sure you were enjoying it, especially under the circumstances you were in.

Well, at least until he heard you say that.

“Really?” He tested. “Enlighten me, baby. Who else made you feel this good?”

You swallowed. Suddenly you felt nervous...shy...embarrassed. Nobody had ever made you feel this good before, not even close. But the last thing you wanted to do was feed his ego even more than it already was. He spent the last six years making you feel like shit, and now here he was between your legs, his fingers tracing softly over your clit again in gut-wrenchingly slow circles. You didn’t even need to see him to know he had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face right now, knowing that you were trapped, helpless, and enjoying it. “F-Fuck you,” you growled under your breath, biting at your lip as his fingers slipped between your slick folds again.

“Yeah? You might if you watch that pretty mouth of yours.” He watched intently as his fingers disappeared inside of you. “I asked you a question. Who else made you feel this good?” He asked again, his voice deep and demanding, a hint of a threat in his tone. You squirmed around, jaw going slack as his fingers sunk deeper into you. His free hand came down harshly onto your ass, eliciting a soft squeak from you in surprise. “One more chance, baby.”

“N-No one,” you huffed in defeat, though your tone changed almost instantly as he started pumping his fingers at a steady pace. “Just you.”

“So smart,” Matt praised. “Say my name this time, sweet girl. Who makes you feel this good?” Sweat glistened on his brow. His lips pursed, a breath of cold air over your sensitive bud making your thighs clench together. The sight pulled an amused sound from deep in his chest. “Try again.” He leaned in again, flicking his tongue over your clit in slow, controlled strokes.

“F-Fuck, please Matt! Y-You, Matt! Only you! Please just-” you blabbered, frustrated tears glistening in your eyes. “Do something! P-Please! Do anything!” You pleaded.

“...Anything?” He smirked, kissing your soaked heat. “Any ideas in mind, little one?”

Matt pulled down the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, allowing his painfully erect cock to spring free. His free hand quickly wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking his shaft a few times as he watched his fingers plunge deep inside of your pussy. He licked his lips, still tasting you on this tongue. “Words, little bunny. Use your words,” he rasped. Matt almost wanted you to kick him, to knock him out of this fantasy, because there was no possible way that this was real life. He had spent years dreaming of you beneath him, years full of yearning desires, years of hormonal frustration. And now here you are. All for him.

Still kneeled between your legs, Matt straightened himself up, his fingers slipping out of your cunt and leaving you feeling empty and desperate. He brought his hand down roughly onto your ass, a sharp smack ringing in the air from the contact. “Naughty little thing. Oh you’re gonna fit around my dick so nice, baby.” Matt held his cock sturdy in his grasp, rubbing his tip over your slick folds. “This what you wanted, baby?” he cooed, his free hand resting on your waist.

The only thing you could get out was a pathetic whine. You wanted him, that was no secret, especially now. You had no way of hiding your arousal towards him, the excitement you felt as he slapped the tip of his cock against your sticky entrance. What you would’ve given to free yourself from under the bed so that you could roll over and watch him; Watching his dick glide between your dripping heat with ease, watching his face scrunch up as he thrusts into you for the first time. You lifted your head off of the cool wooden floor, wincing as you accidentally bump it against one of the planks above you.

Matt chuckled softly. “Easy, little one. Y’know ‘m not gonna hurt you,” he hummed. He slapped his tip against your entrance again, groaning under his breath. “Come on now, princess. Need you to tell me what you want.”

He patiently waited for a response from you. He honestly didn’t mind, he quite enjoyed teasing you for as long as he could. Matt caught his bottom lip between his teeth as the tip of his cock leaked with precum. He thrusted his hips slowly, his shaft gliding against your heat, your arousal combining with his. “M-Matt,” You whimpered, nails clawing at the floorboards once again. Your voice cracked, catching his attention almost immediately. “Please just…f-fuck me.”

With those words, you opened the gates of heaven for him. Allowing him to have access to you, giving him the greenlight to take you right then and there. He surely didn’t need you to tell him again, though he loved the way it sounded rolling off of your tongue. Matt gave his cock a few quick strokes before positioning his tip at your gleaming entrance. His other hand remained glued to your waist, keeping you both steady as he eased himself inside of you.

Your lips parted at the delicious feeling of his cock stretching you out. You could hear him hiss in response to your walls clenching around his shaft, but you had very little time to feel smug. Matt lost every single care in the world that he had, moaning loudly as he bottomed out. He didn’t move for a couple moments. You could feel his hands roaming over the plush of your ass and thighs, but his cock stilled inside of you.

Matt’s eyes fluttered closed. He didn’t dare move a muscle. He had never been so intoxicated by a girl’s pussy in his life. The way you squeezed around him…Hell, if he sat here long enough he could cum just from that alone. It was an addictive feeling, he wanted more even if it killed him. He never wanted it to be over. “Atta girl, look at you taking my dick so well,” Matt grunted, letting his hips finally move, his dick slowly retracting from inside of you.

You couldn’t bear it any longer, you needed him. He couldn’t leave you hanging again. Your hips followed his, sinking back down onto his cock. Matt watched in awe, his jaw going slack as you did just that. His mind went fuzzy as he watched your hips rock back and forth, working yourself on his cock desperately, coating his shaft in your creamy arousal. “That’s it, baby. Been such a good little thing for me, haven’t you?” His voice was thick with lust. He snapped out of his trance and used his hands to help guide your hips, another whorish groan escaping him.

You whined in response; It was all you could manage to get out. Your mind was cloudy as his dick filled you more than you had ever felt before. His strong hands groped at your ample ass, pushing you back down onto his cock, his balls snug against your heat. He groaned again, though it was followed by a deep chuckle. “My sweet little bunny. I told you there was nowhere to run,” he smirked, holding your hips in place as his hips rocked backwards, his cock sliding out of you until only his tip remained buried in your heat. “I knew I could break that pretty little brain, princess. It’s not easy, huh? It’s so hard to think isn’t it?” Matt mumbled, his hips snapping forward to drive his dick back inside of you. It resulted in a cry falling from your lips, your pussy squeezing around him once more. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna do all that hard thinking for you. You just turn that pretty little head off, okay?”

His hips snapped forward again, resulting in another moan slipping from your lips. The sound was like a drug to him, he wanted it injected into his veins. “Feels so good, baby. ‘S like your pussy was made just for me,'' Matt grunted, his hips moving back again. He listened to your pathetic sounds as he pulled out, his hand stroking his cock slowly. He rubbed his tip against your folds, watching as you sunk back down onto him, his tip easing back inside of you, followed by the rest of him. His eyebrows knitted together, a low groan escaping him. He brought his hand down, striking your ass again, leaving a sharp smacking sound ringing in the air. “Impatient little brat,” he hummed, giving the other cheek the same attention. Your fingernails tore at the wooden floor, your body flinching at the impact from his hand. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop moving your hips, loving the way he stretched you full with each stroke.

Matt loved it, watching the way you fucked yourself on his dick; He didn’t even have to move. Amused by your desperation, he cocked his head a little and continued to watch your little performance. Your milky arousal now coating his shaft, his abdomen slick with your juices as you wiggle your hips each time you sink back onto him, desperate to feel more. He groaned as your walls clenched, his dick twitching at the delicious feeling. “Pretty little thing, fuckin’ yourself on my cock…God, I jus’ wanna ruin you…Wanna fuck you so hard, you can’t walk…” His filthy thoughts, now verbally spilling from his mouth like a waterfall. “Wanna make you cum all over my cock, baby. Fuck, jus’ wanna make your pretty little pussy feel good. Only me, nobody else. Wanna put my babies right in your tummy,” he growled, his hand slipping down the side of your waist, his palm pressing against your abdomen. “Gonna put my babies right here. Fuck, I jus’ know you’d make the prettiest little angels. Nobody else's, just mine. All mine.”

He wasn’t sure what had come over him. He had never felt this burning urge in him the previous times he had sex. Something in him awakened, it made his stomach knot up. He panted softly, finally giving into his temptations as he started to thrust in time with your hips, hissing as his dick buried itself impossibly deeper inside of you. “You’d make such a good little mommy, wouldn’t you? So pretty, and soft, and nice…” Matt groaned, letting his hips find a steady pace. A ring of creamy white encircled the base of his shaft, trickling down to his balls with each thrust. The room echoed with the sticky sound of his cock slipping in and out of your tight walls.

You could hardly process the things he was saying. Every word, dirtier than the last. It became increasingly harder to think, or to respond…all you could focus on was the euphoric feeling coursing through your veins. You gasped softly as his hand slipped down from your abdomen, his fingers rubbing your sensitive bud in quick circles. You squirmed at the feeling, knees beginning to wobble once again. “It’s what you were made for, right? My little bunny…you were made to have my babies,” he growled. He picked up his pace, his thrusts remaining relentless. A string of unintelligible vowels fell from your lips as he pounded into you. The contrast between his rough thrusts and his gentle fingers circling your clit was blissful. “Tell me what you want, princess.”

Your lips parted to speak, but you couldn’t find the words. All you could think about was how he felt inside of you, how he made you feel with his gentle touches and his filthy words. He chuckled, the sound making your thighs tremble. “Dumb little thing. Come on now, you know I can’t read your mind, baby…Not that there’s much goin’ on in there right now anyways.”

A loud moan slips from you, your hand flying up to cover your mouth and muffle the sounds you were making. Matt’s eyes darkened, leaning over until his body was pressed to yours as close as he could possibly get. He reached his free hand under the bed, grasping at your arm. It didn’t take much effort for him to pin your arm behind your back. He kept his thrusts steady, burying his cock in you with each thrust. “Uh uh, I wanna hear every little sound you make. Every whimper and squeak that I fuck outta you,” he huffed. “Naughty fuckin’ brat, tryin’ to hide how bad you want your pussy to be used. I see right through you, little one.” His fingers rubbed at your clit faster, a smirk plastered on his face as you began to fall apart beneath him.

“P-Please…c-c-cum-” you managed to sputter out. He licked his lips, his throat going dry. “C-Cumming-” you gasped, your hips spasming as he refused to slow his thrusts, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Warmth pooled in your tummy, your heart pounded against your chest, your teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your bottom lip.

“Did I say you could?” Matt teased, stopping his fingers abruptly. With a gentle firmness, Matt slapped your clit a few times, rewarding him with the sound of your desperate cries and the feeling of you squeezing around him again. “You’ve been so fuckin’ naughty, I have half a mind to leave you like this,” he growled. “Gettin’ me bricked up every fuckin’ day, bending over in those little tennis skirts, your nipples pokin’ through your shirt, biting your lip- Fuck... every time you bite your lip I wanna grab you by your fuckin’ hair an’ bite it myself.” Matt could feel his own orgasm building up. Any girl he had been with could tell you that he would start to ramble the closer he got to his release, but never like this. “Had to throw out all the fuckin’ popsicles b’cause of you, suckin' on 'em right in front of me. D’you know how many times I had to go jerk off in my room b’cause of you? How many fuckin’ times you joined our party on the game, and I’d die just so I could mute myself and beat my dick to your pretty little fuckin’ sounds. Oh god, baby… Jesus fuck, you’re a fuckin’ minx. You don’t fuckin’ deserve to cum after the fuckin’ hell you put me through,” he growled. “But fuck…I wanna feel your little pussy tighten around my cock while you cum. F-Fuck, I want you to cum, baby.” His fingers collected the juices puddling at the base of his shaft before he reached his arm back around your torso, rubbing at your clit once again.

“Mmmph, M-Matt,” you mewled out, your head resting against the wooden floor. “P-Please, s-so close-”

“Don’t think, baby. I know it feels good, I know you wanna cum,” Matt panted, picking up his pace as he began to thrust faster, grunting softly as his hips collided with yours. “You're gonna be a good girl and let me put a baby in your tummy, isn’t that right?” Matt whispered, his tone hoarse and gruff. He continued to circle his fingers at your sensitive clit. He knew you wouldn’t last much longer, what between your desperate pleas and your trembling thighs, it was obvious that you were close to your release. “That’s what little bunnies do best, hmm? Making pretty little babies?” He gave your ass a firm squeeze, thrusting his hips even faster.

You squirmed again beneath him, moans spilling out of your mouth. His thrusts were rough, his hands groping and touching you possessively. You couldn’t help it anymore. Your head felt like it was spinning, your entire body flooding with warmth. “F-Fuck, I-I-I-” you stammered. He moved his hand back to your waist, holding you in place firmly. His fingers rubbed at your clit faster to bring you to your release. “C-Cumming, f-fuck Matt!”

His fingers dug into your waist, your words only encouraging him to keep going, despite the ache he was feeling in his knees from them boring into the wooden floorboards. Matt rested his head against the edge of the mattress, the sweat forming on his brow seeping into the silk sheets on the bed. “That’s it, baby. Cum for me, cum all over my cock. Did so fuckin’ good for me,” Matt groaned, his hips bucking forward with the desperate need to bring them both to their release. “F-Fuck, please cum on my cock. Please, please, please…Need to feel you, n-need it so bad, baby.”

In an instant, your muscles began to tense, a hoarse cry erupting from you. Your legs wobbled and shook as your orgasm washed over you, finishing with him buried deep inside of you. Matt panted, rubbing your sensitive cunt with slow gentle strokes to ride you through your high. “Atta girl, that’s it. Oh fuck-” he groaned, pumping his cock in and out of you with quick, sloppy thrusts. “God, you’re so fuckin’ perfect. Cummin’ all over my dick, makin’ such a fuckin’ mess. F-Fuck...you’re drippin’ everywhere, baby. S-So fuckin’ messy-” he rambled, grunting with every rut of his hips. His fingers slipped away from your pussy, and he brought them to his lips, sucking your release off of his fingers. He moaned at the taste, bringing his other hand to your waist as well. “Just another minute, baby- f-fuck, ‘m so close. Doing so fuckin’ good. Squeezin’ my cock nice and tight- God you’re so fuckin’ perfect.”

With your sweaty forehead pressed against the cold floor, you forced your hips to stay up, not letting your knees give out just yet. You weren’t about to look weak in front of him. You just hoped his thrusts wouldn’t get any rougher, because you were only one wrong thrust away from collapsing completely.

It didn’t take long for Matt to reach his orgasm, his sloppy thrusts slowing almost to a complete stop. His stomach tightened as he bucked his hips forward roughly, groaning loudly and repeating the action. It only took a few rough quick thrusts before he pulled your hips back, forcing your bodies together as close as physically possible. Heavy breaths passed his lips, along with numerous deep moans. His cock throbbed, waves of pleasure hitting him like a tsunami as his cum pumped deep inside of you. The warmth of your pussy still snug around his shaft, along with his hot cum that was beginning to ooze from your entrance where he was still buried inside of you, it made him weak in the knees. An aftershock hit him like a jolt of electricity, his hips rutting forward. “S-So fuckin’ good,” he whimpered.

He could’ve stayed like that forever; Buried inside of you, watching a mix of his seed and your own release leaking down his shaft. He could’ve gone again, there was no doubt in his mind. He slowly and reluctantly pulled out, his hand grasping the base of his cock. He stroked his shaft, watching with a possessive, predatory gaze as his sticky white cum oozed from your entrance, slipping through your folds and over your clit before dripping onto the floor, pooling between your knees. He wanted nothing more than to bury his dick back inside of you and fuck you until he drained every last drop of cum inside of you, until he was shooting blanks and had nothing left to give. But he knew that if his knees were killing him right now, you were probably in a much more uncomfortable state. He cursed softly under his breath, tucking his cock back into his pants. Matt looked over at the nightstand, grabbing a box of tissues and pulling a few of them from the box, gently wiping the mess from between your legs. He wasn’t worried about the mess on the floor, he would clean it up after. Right now, he had bigger priorities.

He frowned a little as he saw your legs wobbling again. He took another handful of tissues, gently cleaning you up before tending to the puddle between your knees. Once all of his mess was taken care of, Matt tossed the box of tissues to the side, throwing the wad of used ones into the nearby trash bin. You squirmed, attempting to push yourself out from under the bed. You winced as you heard the sound of the towel ripping.

“Careful- hold on, you’re gonna hurt yourself,” Matt mumbled softly as he reached under the bed frame, unhooking your towel from the nail it had gotten caught on. He pulled the hem of the towel back down to cover your upper thighs, his touch lingering slightly. You breathed a sigh of relief. Lowering your body to the ground, you did your best to keep your breathing controlled and steady. Although you wanted to just lay there for a few moments, Matt had other plans. He used all of his strength to carefully lift the bed frame, just barely off of the ground. “Come on, let’s get you out of there,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. He shifted the weight of the bed frame into one hand, using his other to gently guide you out from where you had been stuck previously.

You didn’t want to look at him. Your stomach twisted into knots as you re-lived what just happened. Matt could tell that something was wrong, that you were avoiding his gaze for a reason, but he couldn’t pinpoint why. His brow furrowed. “Is your head okay?”

You finally looked into his eyes, reading the sincerity in them. “What?” you scoffed.

Matt frowned a little at your tone, but he recovered quickly. “Your head…you bumped it kinda hard when you were under there. I just wanted to know if it still hurt-“

“My head is fine.”

“Oh…okay.”

Why is he still here? Does he need an invitation to leave? You looked at him once again, and suddenly a wave of guilt washed over you. What you had done with him was wrong. He was nothing but rude to you for years, and you willingly gave him access to you and your body. You could have cursed him out, you could have fought back or screamed at him to leave the room, you could’ve asked him to help you get out, but you didn’t. “Why, Matt?” you breathed out in a defeated tone. “Why?”

He looked at you with a confused look across his face. With a furrowed brow, Matt shook his head slightly. “Wh-What are you talking about? Why what?” He moved a little closer to you, reaching out to brush your hair out of your face.

You dodge his hand, scooting back. “You know what, Matt,” you bark back. “You’ve hated me since I first came around, you glare at me and say hurtful things. You ignore me when I’m around unless you can find a way to let everyone know just how much you hate me. You refuse to do things with your brothers if I’m involved at all-“ you stopped, feeling your voice getting caught in your throat.

Matt’s eyes widened. “Woah, woah, woah! Hate? This is news to me,” he interrupted, shaking his head again in disbelief. “I’ve never hated you, where the hell did you pull that one from?”

“Are you serious?! You interrupt me, you’re passive aggressive, you refuse to look at me or interact with me in any other circumstances, you avoid me like I’m the fucking plague, you blame me for not being able to get work done-“

Matt stayed quiet. He reached out to lift your chin. When you tried to look away again, he gently cupped your face in his hands. “You really thought I hated you?” He asked with a heavy heart. As soon as you opened your eyes to look at him, he felt like he had just been shot in the chest. “I never hated you, pretty girl. Never ever,” he whispered soothingly, the pad of his thumb gently wiping away a tear as it rolled down the curve of your cheek.

You blinked back your tears, disgusted with the idea of looking weak in front of him. “Then why were you like that? Why did you avoid me? Why would you act like that?” You demanded an answer, one that made sense, one that didn’t make you feel sick to your stomach anymore.

“I-I…” he started, afraid to tell you the truth after keeping it buried for so long. But as he saw the way your eyes glazed over, the way your lip quivered and your body trembled, he knew he couldn’t keep it to himself anymore. He closed his eyes, preparing himself for the inevitable rejection. “I know how I acted was childish-“

“You think?!”

Matt sighed, though the tight feeling in his chest didn’t go away. “Just listen-“

“No, you listen. I’ve been nothing but nice to you, Matt. I’ve never made a nasty remark, I’ve never glared or scowled at you, I’ve never said anything bad about you. I’ve always greeted you, I’ve always been friendly-“

“And I can’t stand it-“ Matt interrupted you, moving his face closer to yours. He looked deep into your eyes, holding your face delicately in his palms. “I can’t stand how fucking nice you are and how perfect you are. I can’t stand how beautiful you look every goddamn day. I can’t stand it because I want it all for myself,” he admits, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m so fucking selfish, I want you all to myself. I don’t wanna fucking share with my brothers or our friends-“

“That’s such bullshit, Matt,” you scoffed.

“I’m being for real,” he insisted, his eyes pleading for you to hear him out. “I thought if I…if I didn’t interact with you that maybe…it would all just go away. I thought…” he paused, instantly re-living every moment he had been a dick to you. The way your light would dim, the way your smile would fall and your eyes would lose their natural sparkle. The way you would go quiet and shrink back until you were overlooked, ignored, invisible. “I thought…how could a girl like you ever like someone like me…”

You stayed quiet. You weren’t really sure what to say in response to that. A moment of silence passed, and when you came to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to say anything else, you took it as an opening to speak. “You expect me to believe that bullshit sob story?” You growl at him.

Matt didn’t know how to convince you. He had spent the last six years making you feel like shit, all in an unsuccessful attempt to shield his heart. “I wish I could take it back,” he spoke softly, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek in slow smooth strokes. “I wish I could do it all over again. I-I just…I would see the way you were with Chris-” he stopped for a moment as images of you and his brother rushed through his mind like an avalanche. He looked down, avoiding your gaze all together. “I wanted it to be me…but it wasn’t. And I hated that it wasn’t.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Chris was right, you really do think you’re starring in some crazy ass Netflix Original.”

Your words stung, his eyes were full of desperation and pain, something you had never seen from him before. “You’re not listening to me,” he stated, his eyes glossing over with tears. “I’ve wanted to do that for years-”

“You’ve wanted to fuck me for years?” You scoff. “How endearing.”

“What- No! I-I mean yes, but-” He stammered, running his fingers through his messy hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I’ve wanted to be with you for years…It wasn’t just about sex, I’ve wanted you since the minute I saw you,” he continued, moving closer to you again.

“You never said anything,” you whispered, positive that if you spoke any louder your voice would waiver. “How was I supposed to know any of this? How do I even know it’s true, Matt? How do I know you’re not just fucking with my head to get whatever the fuck you want?”

Matt leaned against the side of the bed, his eyes still refusing to meet yours. He was quiet for a long moment. He swallowed anxiously. “Brown corduroy pants and a green knit sweater.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“That’s what you were wearing the first time I saw you,” he said, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. “I remember thinking…’God, that sweater is so fucking ugly’,” Matt relayed, a soft chuckle following close after. “It was like you heard me say that in my head, because you looked over at me and I thought my heart stopped beating…”

Your facial expression softened upon hearing the moment from his perspective. It was all so different from how you remembered it.

“Chris! Get back here and help!”

You and Matt shared a panicked look at the muffled shouting coming from outside. You winced as you stood up, legs aching as you walked over to the window and looked out into the backyard. Your eyes landed on Chris, and your movement must have caught his eye as he looked up to your window, a smile growing on his face. “Hey! We’re gonna have a cookout tonight! Come outside!”

“Chris, quit yelling! We have neighbors!” Nick shouted.

You turned around, your heart racing as your eyes locked with Matt’s again. He looked up at you, his lips parted slightly. “I’ll leave-” Matt whispered, grabbing the bedpost as he hoisted himself up, being sure not to be in view of the window. “You uh…” he trailed off, running his fingers through his messy hair.

Your brow furrowed, looking at him in confusion. “What? Is there something on my face?”

Matt bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head in response. “You just…You look pretty,” Matt said, his eyes avoiding yours as he left the room in a hurry. The sound of his footsteps began to fade as he made his way down the hallway, the stairs creaking under his feet. You stared at the door, almost expecting him to come back, to say more, but he didn’t.

You rushed to change into something comfortable. You decided on a pair of sweatpants and a simple tube top before you quickly made your way out to the backyard. As you stood at the back door, you saw Matt and Nick setting up some lawn chairs around the stone firepit, already bickering about something stupid, you were sure. Chris chucked a couple of logs into the firepit, spraying some lighter fluid into the pit before lighting a match and tossing it in. The contents in the pit lit up with flames almost instantly, a cheeky smile forming on Chris’s face as he opened the bottle of lighter fluid again. Nick shouted, snatching the bottle away from his brother immediately. You laughed softly, reading his lips as he shouted ‘are you fucking stupid?!’ at Chris.

Matt laughed under his breath, looking over his shoulder for a moment. As his eyes locked with yours, you tensed up, your breath catching in your throat. You were pleasantly surprised when he smiled, a bashful redness burning in his cheeks. He looked away from you quickly, but you could still see the smile on his face.

You stepped out onto the back porch, greeting the boys’ neighbors as they started the grill up. You shared a few moments of small talk with them before heading down the porch steps, shuffling over to the boys by the firepit. Chris smiled at you, pulling you into a bear hug. You laughed, hugging him back. Matt watched, his smile faltering a little as he looked down, focusing instead on tossing handfuls of pine needles into the fire, fueling the large flames as they engulfed the debris in the confines of the stone pit.

Nick had noticed the strange behavior on Matt’s part, and he had been suspicious from the moment Matt happily emerged from the house, smiling and offering to help his brothers. But Nick’s suspicions only grew upon seeing you. He stood up, wiping the dirt from his hands onto his swim trunks. “Hey, feeling a little better?” Nick asked you.

You smiled, nodding your head. “Yeah.”

“Shower pressure’s pretty nice for an older house,” Chris chuckled.

“Yeah…It was nice, for sure,” you laughed as well, going along with Chris’s statement.

Nick raised an eyebrow at you. “Really?”

“Mhm,” you nodded again.

Nick started to walk towards the house, stopping as he stood beside you, leaning down so that his lips were only inches away from your ear. “Your hair is dry,” he stated before walking towards the porch steps.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊: Oh my, what is going to happen in part 2?

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖘: @flowerxbunnie @megamett44-lover @xtravrgnoliveoil @mattsturnswife @sturniolofan4lifee @oversturn @soursturniolo @sturnioz @luverboychris @meerkatzthings @soupuurr @gemofthenight @sturnsforlife @hi-7-hi @blahbel668 @mattspleasure @sturnybabes @jjmaybankswifes-blog @sturniolosreads @bernardsleftbootycheek @egirlshit @matthemunch44 @nonamegirlxsturniolo @chrizz333 @sturniolopowers @mattsleftnipple03 @worldlxvlys @hearts4chriss @janiellasblog @creamoncreamoncream2 @meg-sturniolo @ellie-luvsfics @lustfulslxt @braindead4l @ghostlythinggoingaround @taekwite @querenciasturniolo @whicked-hazlatwhore @m4ttslvr @mqttittude @bewtyschooldropout @lovelybrokenheal @h3arts4harry @riowritesitall @freshloveforthefit @esioleren @colorthecosmos444 @mbbsgf @kitkatbar1275

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verareids · 7 months ago

Text

feel the same - s.r. x bau!reader

spencer misunderstands a conversation he overhears between reader and derek. tags/cws: misunderstandings, confessions of feelings, use of 'y/n', gn!reader, fluff, mild angst, derek morgan has big brother energy wc: 1708 (much longer than I thought lmao) a/n: I'm truly obsessed with season 1 spencer as of late so I HAD to write a fic with him in mind. <3

also posted on ao3

“You know Pretty Boy likes you, don’t you?”

Spencer had been trying to get some sleep on the flight back after working a case that had drained all his energy when the sound of Morgan’s voice caught his attention. Without opening his eyes, he knew exactly who he was talking to. Spencer had never outright admitted to anyone that he had developed feelings for you but it was getting harder to deny. Once Derek had started pointing out the way he’d look up when you entered a room or the way his eyes lingered as you walked away, he was becoming concerned that this crush was more obvious than he’d like it to be.

He’s been trying to ignore it, telling himself it’s unprofessional when really it’s because he believes there’s no way you could possibly feel the same. There’s a myriad of reasons why he wished Derek would keep his big mouth shut but honestly – that was probably the biggest.

“Likes me? How old are we?” The smooth sound of your response makes Spencer smile to himself in spite of the current situation.

“(Y/N), come on…” Derek chuckles and is immediately met with a long stretch of silence. Spencer can picture the death glare he knows he’d see on your face if he were to look at you in this moment. “Look, you know he’s never gonna ask you out himself so maybe you should just–”

“Derek.” You interrupt with an evident sternness in your tone. “I’m not having this conversation with you. I’ve told you, it’s not happening.” Ouch. Spencer had never allowed himself to dream that you would reciprocate his feelings but he definitely wishes he had been asleep for that one. With that, he forces his eyes shut tighter than before and takes in one deep, slightly shaky breath and decides to try to go back to sleep, if only so that he doesn’t have to hear you reject him even harder.

Spencer wakes up as the jet is landing and he quickly gathers all of his things, walking out and across the strip with much more urgency than usual. This detail doesn’t go unnoticed by you, not much does – especially where Spencer is concerned – and you make a mental note to check in with him later. He had caught your eye the first day you met him which must be, what? Half a year ago now? And he had been on your mind ever since. You had bonded quickly as friends, being the two youngest members on the team. About a month ago you had finally allowed yourself to acknowledge the fact that you had developed feelings for him. You’d sit next to him at any given opportunity, listen to his infamously long rants much longer than anyone else would, spend just a little too long staring at his lips as he talked you through his theories. It didn’t take long for people to notice. Elle had her suspicions, JJ made a comment every now and then, but Derek – he wouldn’t let it go. He teases you about it constantly. You haven’t given him the satisfaction of admitting it, you haven’t been able to deny it either.

When you eventually make your way into the building along with the rest of the team you notice that Spencer had already left. It’s only then you start to be concerned. It’s unlike him to leave in such a hurry, even more so to not even say goodbye. You rack your brain trying to come up for a reason for this strange behavior. Is he sick? Upset about something? Was it you? You begin to go over every interaction you’d had with him recently when you have to stop yourself before you spiral. He’s just tired. If it was serious he’d tell you… right?

The next morning you walk in to find Spencer at his desk working on the report he didn’t write last night before he had basically ran away.

“Morning, Spence!” You greet him, making an effort to sound cheerful as you lean on his desk. He doesn’t look up, like he’s trying extra hard to look busy.

“Morning, (Y/L/N).” He replies without looking up. His tone seems normal, his use of your last name is what sounds the alarms in your head.

“Hey… are you feeling alright?” You ask tentatively, not wanting to pry too much in case you really had done something wrong that you clearly weren’t aware of. “I noticed you kind of left in a hurry last night.” He finally looks up and meets your eyes, easing your nerves slightly. His eyes shift away and then back to yours before a soft smile graces his lips, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m okay.” He responds after a while in a way that sounds like that’s not all he wants to say. You go to reassure him, make sure he knows he can tell you anything, but stop yourself when you notice the way he tenses when you place a hand on his shoulder. Retracting your hand quickly, you begin to fidget with your fingers before running them through your hair nervously.

“Spencer… I–” You start and stop and Spencer feels a little guilty as you seem to stumble over your words anxiously. “Is it me? Did I do something? Because if I did I–”.

“(Y/N).” Spencer cuts off your panicked rambling. You take a steadying breath as he slowly rises to stand in front of you, your eyes trailing up when he towers over you. He looks around the room and sighs before focusing back on you. “Can we go somewhere to talk?” You nod and begin walking towards a storage room with Spencer following close behind, quickly checking that there's no one in there before stepping inside.

“What’s going on with you?” You break the silence as Spencer closes the door behind him. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve been acting weird.” You notice the way he dodges the question. He can’t meet your eyes anymore, his gaze shifts around the room and he smiles awkwardly at you.

“Spence, that’s not–” You interrupt yourself, trying to find a way to put your thoughts to words without overwhelming him. “I only want you to be okay. You’ve been acting differently since last night… If there’s something going on I want to be there for you.” When you say that he smiles sadly. He looks down in thought as if he’s considering something.

“I heard you talking to Morgan…” He mumbles, still staring at his feet – wringing his hands together. You furrow your brows in confusion. Talking to Morgan? “On the jet on the way home…”

“Oh.” This isn’t happening. You figure you should’ve known Derek’s relentless teasing would be your downfall. He must know you like him now. There’s a reason you never wanted him to know how you felt. You couldn’t stand the thought of anything ruining your friendship. Spencer visibly deflates even more in front of you at your lack of response. You begin scrambling to come up with a way to get out of this horrifically embarrassing situation.

“Look, I– I didn’t mean to make this awkward…” Oh god. The way he’s stuttering and tripping over his words. You stare blankly at him, then duck your head, bracing for the impact of his rejection. “It’s not like I thought you would feel the same way I just–” Wait what? Your head snaps back up to see his face, eyes widened, which seems to startle him a little. “I wasn’t going to say anything but I guess I just got really in my head about it.” He begins to look a little panicked. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry if I did.” You just keep staring up at him, mouth agape in disbelief. “(Y/N)?” He says your name with a sad desperation and it reminds you that you should respond.

“Sorry, I–” You say slowly while shaking your head. “Are you saying that – Do you like me?” Now it’s Spencer’s turn to look confused, but it was all starting to make sense to you. You had thought he was acting weird because he had found out about your feelings, when in reality, it was the other way around.

“Yes?” He replies hesitantly.

“I like you too.” You say simply with a shy smile but Spencer looks completely taken aback.

“You do?�� The way his eyes light up with a subtle excitement was adorable. Soon after, that look was replaced with skepticism. “But I thought— you told Morgan you didn’t like me.”

“I told Morgan to stop teasing me about you because I didn’t think this…” You gesture between the two of you. “Was ever going to happen.” Spencer let out a sigh of relief and smiled bashfully.

“You could have just told me.” You feel his eyes scanning your face as if he were still looking for proof that you weren’t messing with him.

“You didn’t tell me either.”

“I thought there was no way…” You make eye contact as he trails off in thought. “I guess it doesn’t matter now.” Spencer takes a tentative step closer to you but doesn’t move to touch you in any way, so you reach out to take his hands in yours, lacing your fingers together.

“Well… maybe if we don’t have to fly out for a case today, we could go to dinner tonight?” You’re staring down at your intertwined hands, squeezing once before looking back up. When you see his face he’s still looking down with a big dopey grin on his face and you can’t help but smile right back.

“Yes— definitely.” You giggle at his obvious enthusiasm.

You both stay in the storage room for another couple minutes, mostly just staring starry eyed at each other. Eventually you both decide that you should get back to work. You try to hide whatever was now going between you as much as you can but like always, Derek Morgan figures you out within minutes and he, along with the rest of the team, teases you relentlessly. (You wouldn’t have it any other way.)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

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thediaryofaurora · 4 months ago

Note

ticci toby nsfw headcanons 😭🤲 can’t express how much i love your hc’s bro its so good 🥹💗 pls keep cooking

☆Ticci Toby Relationship HCs☆

CW: NSFW, f!reader

THANK YOU SO MUCH! This ask single-handedly brought me out of my writing slump. I went ahead and added SFW dating HCs as well, a little bonus 🙌 Also I’m in a leg brace from soccer so I’m stuck in bed.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

★SFW★

- This guy has got a LOT on his mental plate, be prepared for that.

- He is 100% a friends to lovers type of guy. He’s not easily trusting, so that relationship really has to be built up.

- When he does have a crush on someone he beats himself up about it because he feels so stupid for thinking you’d ever like him back.

- Moving onto actually dating him, he is so so so insecure. Lots of reassurance is needed, but if you’re able to get through to him he eventually realizes you actually like him.

- Crazy touch starved. In the first few months of dating he’s super unsure of if he can kiss you or even put his arm around you, he’s HORRIFIED of crossing any boundaries and you leaving. You’ll probably have to make the first move.

- He most likely won’t be the one to ask you out. If you’ve known eachother for a while and he’s feeling a little confident there’s a possibility, but in his mind he’d rather stay friends and get to see you rather than get rejected and you not talk to him anymore.

- LOVES going on dates with you, but he’s a ball of anxiety. It should be easy to cool him down and let him know you’re enjoying it, he’s just so worried about if you’re happy or not.

- Usually thinks going on walks or sitting on a curb together is like the perfect date, ESPECIALLY in the fall. He keeps an old camera on him that he got from Brian so he can make little home videos and capture the moments you spend together.

- Picks up cool leaves, glass shards, or other things left in the forest and makes sure to show you.

- He’s actually not an awful cook. He’s a fast learner in pretty much every aspect and he already knows the basics. His mom taught him when he was young how to make some baseline German dishes, and this man can WHIP that shit up.

- Once you two are to the point in your relationship where you can cuddle, he is ALL OVER YOU. Especially when it’s raining/ thundering out and you two can lay in bed together. Since he overheats easily due to his CIPA, in the colder seasons you’ll have to leave the window open so he can stay cool.

- After seeing how his dad treated his mom, he has a pretty good grasp on how to treat a partner. At times he can fly off the handle, especially with his bipolar disorder, but afterwards he breaks down and apologizes. If at any point you even SEEM like you don’t like him anymore he gets defensive, it makes him very standoffish or snappy.

- Won’t shut up about you after you start dating. Not in a rambling way, but he finds a way to bring you up in every conversation. He doesn’t meant to, but how could he go without telling someone you’d like the flower he just walked by?

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

✩NSFW✩

- VIRRRRGINNNNNNNN.

- I mean VIRGIN virgin, like this guy has had NO activity. No first kiss either. All the knowledge he has is from porn, so he’s completely clueless. If you’re both inexperienced you’ll just have to persevere.

- He’s the kind of person to get turned on looking at a picture of you fully clothed, he’s just so in love with you.

- Before you two start dating he’s 100% taking candid pictures of you or finding your instagram posts and jacking off to them.

- Massive bottom. He puts out a front for a WHILE before you’ll be able to realize he’s not a top, he doesn’t want to look like a sissy. If you suggest being on top he’s BLOWN AWAY. Acts like he’s just doing whatever you want, but afterwards you definitely realize he’s been waiting for it.

- Sensitive as hell. He’s a loud one, but again he doesn’t want to look weak or not masculine enough. He tries to hold his moans and whimpers back and grunt instead, but if you do it just right he’s a whimpering, whining, PANTING, mess. Kiss his neck? He’s rock hard. Even if you’re just giving him a hickey he’s whimpering and bucking his hips into you.

- Tits man 100%. Doesn’t matter what size, the fact that they’re there is enough. When you’re on top of him he prefers for you to face him so he can watch them bounce. When he’s on top he’s usually in missionary so he can still see them.

- Hair pulling kink, specifically his. He can’t feel the pain, but the yank drives him CRAZY.

- Big on oral. Giving or receiving, he doesn’t care. If he’s giving he prefers for you to sit on his face, but he’d never admit that.

- His favorite place to do it is tight spaces. Closets, cars, narrow alleyways. Especially if it adds to the thrill of getting caught.

- STAMINA. He cums crazy fast, but he’s definitely able to make up for it with how many rounds he can go. Even if he came a few minutes ago, it’s already up and ready to go again.

- Likes to have music playing in the back while you do it. He probably already made a playlist the second you started dating, but if you ever want to choose the music he doesn’t mind.

- At first he’s self conscious about his abilities, but after some time and seeing how good you feel he’s a cocky motherfucker. Slyly grinning and looking at you all worn out after a few rounds boosts his ego to the moon.

- Dim lighting all the way. He wants to be able to see you, but he feels too exposed when it’s too bright.

- Not completely opposed to a threesome, it depends on who it is. He’s more protective than possessive, so if he trusts the person enough he’d be okay with it. If it had to be anyone in the mansion it would probably be Cody or Liu, but he’d make sure you’re okay with it.

- Rabid horny teenager.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

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nosyrobin · 3 months ago

Note

I saw this was in your list of things to write but nobody's sent you an ask yet (I think) sooo...

How would an Omegaverse Batfam react if M!Sibling!reader presented as an Alpha/Beta/Omega? Would they be more protective if reader was an Omega? More like a sibling rivalry situation if they're an Alpha?

||OMEGAVERSE AU!BATFAM X BATBRO!READER||

A/N: thanks for requesting! Here’s your order. <33

ALPHA

If batbro was ever an alpha, which I hc that if the batfam was in omegaverse that all the boys would either be betas or alphas. If batbro was an alpha, there would definitely be some kind of rivalry between the boys and batbro. But never too serious. It would line wolves playfully roughhousing until one says “ima be the main alpha when blah blah blah dies.” Then it gets a little serious.

But other than that, it’s probably nothing much rather than the batfam making sure you don’t crash out and act crazy around omegas. Dick probably tries to make you do dates because he already found himself one from a hook up. You can deny all you want but really your older brother just wants you to be happy with your omega.

Jason probably warns you about real dangerous omegas he heard around when patrol as red hood, he probably puts a tracker on you.

Tim, he doesn’t care much since you are an alpha like the rest of the family. He’s a beta, he’s smart enough to know you can take care of yourself. But at the same time there are dangerous omegas that will try and drug his brother he cares for since he is a Wayne. So he puts a tracker onto you as well.

Damian tries hard to not care for you. He glares at you, he basically growls at you. Trying to put on a hard shell, but he can’t help but stand by you everytime. He’s an alpha, and to another alpha to another. The pack must protect each other.

BETA

If batbro was a beta, I feel like the family would be very normal about it. Not disappointed that their brother is not an alpha, but at least he’s a beta.

The family is so glad their brother is a beta since beta’s are practically human beings in the omegaverse. No rut/heat, no aggressive or submissive behavior that can lead to tragedies. Just pure normal behavior.

Though that doesn’t mean your alpha and beta brothers won’t be protective of you. Of course they’re protective of you! You’re the one that puts the brothers and family together like glue like Alfred. You’re sane, you’re calm, and you’re a beta. You’re the package they need to relax after a terrible patrol.

Neither the less, it’s pretty chill for batbro who’s a beta.

OMEGA

Oh boy..if batbro was ever an omega….the batfamily is so protective over their omega family member. Always making sure the omega male has suppressants on during heat season. If batbro was ever around an alphas that wasn’t any of the batfamily members, Jason and dick are immediately behind the omega trying to see if the alpha has any bad intentions. Alphas know another alpha. Especially Jason since he knows how alphas can get around omegas.

Damian wouldn’t hesitate to chop off any alpha’s head for his brother. And Tim, Tim doesn’t mind doxing and scaring a few alphas away from his brother.

Bruce, ooooh boy. Bruce would definitely go Batman mode if an alpha even dares to try and be aggressive to his poor omega of a son. Jason would even give the alpha a little red hood visit with a gun loaded in his hand. These two don’t play.

They always keep tabs on you, because in omegaverse being an omega is basically a death wish. But being in Gotham is even worse than a death wish itself. They don’t care if you trained to fight as well and can kick mean ass. There can still be people that can always beat batbro up so they just track him 24/7.

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flemingology · 1 month ago

Note

“just because i got you a gift, doesn’t mean I like you” with alexia 🎄

secret santa ─ alexia putellas x reader

part of my christmas series. full masterlist here!

in which: a silly christmas tradition defrosts you and alexia's relationship

warnings: emotionally unavailable alexia is a warning on it's own

wc: 5.1k

a/n: probably one of my favs from the series. hope you enjoy!

Making the move to Barça a couple months ago was a much harder decision to take than some people might think. Admittedly, there are a lot of upsides to playing alongside the best players in the world. The standards are high, the training sessions are good, you're in better shape than you've ever been in and you're steadily growing your trophy cabinet. On the other hand, nothing was harder than leaving your family behind in England.

You grew up in London, a steady youth leading the way towards being picked up by the Arsenal academy, where you went through all the youth groups and eventually got picked for the first team. Everything seemed to be going well, you were playing a good amount of minutes, fitting right in to Arsenal's defensive line. The first couple years you couldn't imagine yourself ever playing for a different team than the Gunners, but an injury-ridden year completely changed that. It started with a few niggles that kept you out of the occasional game, but a couple months into the season you suffered a lateral ligament injury to your right ankle, keeping you out for the best part of 3 months. You tried your best to get back into the squad, but you felt like Arsenal had moved past you.

At 27, still one of the best defenders in the game, you let your agent know that you needed a change. It hadn't been easy for you to come to the conclusion that it was better to leave, but you weren't ready to give up on your career yet. Not when you were supposed to be in your peak years now. Endless meetings, phone calls, late night text messages and a lot of turmoil later, the perfect deal struck. You were starting to feel a bit hopeless in your position, so Barça's offer came at the perfect time.

They expressed how they thought you'd be a perfect fit in their defensive line. Standing tall at 5'7, your aerial threat was one of the things they voiced could be helpful to the team. The contract in itself was perfect. They offered you three years, good pay and they would help you with accommodating to Spain – housing, visa, finances, the club would take care of all of that so you could focus on settling in through your football.

It seemed like a no-brainer, but obviously there were two sides to the story. You were determined to get your career back on the right track, but leaving your family behind in England wasn't an easy decision to make. It took a lot of tearful hugs and heartfelt promises to visit from your family, before you managed to cut the cord completely and sign the contract with the Spanish giants. Nonetheless, you always felt like your family supported all your decisions, and just like you they were certain that this was the right move for your career.

Now 3 months later, if anyone asked you, you would still say that this had been the perfect step. You accommodated to the weather fairly quickly, settled into an apartment that the club had found for you, and took up a couple extra language classes on offer to try and master the Spanish language a bit quicker – you had a basic understanding, and you could manage during games and training sessions, but still struggled here and there.

You'd felt at home within the team, too. It was definitely one of the things that had been on your mind prior to your first training session. You were nervous about whether you were going to be good enough, whether they would deem you worthy enough of wearing the blaugrana colors, but any doubts melted away like snow in the sun when you got invited to a team bonding night right as your first training session ended.

You went out for a meal and drinks in one of Barçelona's hidden gems, one that the girls seemed to love. It was clear that they had been here quite a few times, because the waiter knew some of their orders by heart. You bonded with Ingrid throughout the night, both of you sharing experiences of having to leave your family behind in a different country to play football here. You warmed up to her, she was nice to you and seemed to really like your company, but you stayed a bit distant from the rest of the girls. Everyone was deep in conversation with each other, most of the time conversing in Spanish. You were well aware that they didn't have to involve you in their conversations, you were a 27-year-old adult at last who could stand up for themself, but you found it hard to really integrate fully with the tight group that had seemed to form over the years. From a different point of view, it might've seemed that you were uninterested and not bothered trying to mingle with the rest of the team, but that wasn't the case at all. Although, that wasn't what people picked up. Especially not the captain.

You've not had more than a handful conversations with Alexia, ever since you signed for Barça. In the beginning, you tried putting it off to the fact you both weren't entirely comfortable in the other's language. But as time went on and you got settled more and more into the team, playing more minutes and getting closer to most of the girls, you couldn't just put it down to that anymore. You had tried a couple times in the early days of you transfer to string together a conversation with the Spanish midfielder, but you never got further than the odd "Hola" or "Good game, Ale". You tried to shrug it off, but you couldn't say that it didn't bother you. Alexia seemed open and chatty towards your teammates, but seemed to block off the second you neared within a 5-meter radius from her. And even though you had bonded quite well with her best friend and her girlfriend, they didn't seem to want to say anything about it.

A couple weeks had passed, and you found yourself in a meeting talking about the month ahead. December would be busy, UWCL games ramping up and the league and cup to keep up with. There was a lot of tactical talk going on and while you know you shouldn't, you zoned out a bit, tired from the already long day – and it was far from over. You had an appointment planned with the physios after the meeting, a quick routine check for your ankle, but they would need to take some tests here and there, pushing your relaxing on your couch tonight even further back on the agenda. You got pulled out of your thoughts when the tone in the meeting changed, going from very stern and tactical to a little bit lighter, and it wasn't until you noticed the powerpoint slide that you understood why.

SECRET SANTA

Your eyes widened in surprise and a small smile grew on your lips, a light hum of chatter making it's way through the meeting room as some girls rehashed up some memories from the year before. You hadn't expected secret santa to be a tradition within the Barça squad, but you found it fun. Otherwise so very composed and professional, it was nice to see a different side to the club and the staff.

"Okay, girls! As you can see from the powerpoint slide, we're doing secret santa again this year! Last season went well and we thought we should reintegrate it again. We're going to draw names now in the meeting, and then we'll arrange a date further down the line when we figure out what our schedule will look like." A couple staff members explained the ins and outs a bit further for anyone who had never participated in the lighthearted Christmas tradition, and then the name drawing started. Someone had written everyone's names on little pieces of paper and put them in a bowl, letting it go round the meeting room and having everyone take one. You were sat near the back, so there was only a couple pieces of paper left when it was your turn. You picked one and shielded away from Esmee and Keira who were on either side of you, reading the name that was written on the paper. Mapi Léon. A smile crept on your lips upon reading your defensive partner's name. You didn't give in to Keira’s prying and soon the meeting concluded, sending everyone on their way for the next part of their day.

Most of the girls were headed home now, but you made your way to the physio's office. They checked a couple things and made you do a couple tests, measuring and calculating whatever they deemed necessary to ensure that your ankle was perfectly fine. Lucky for you, it didn't take long as you thought it would. You were the only one that still needed treatment, so the physios were able to round off their checklist for you quite smoothly. You were sent on your way with a pat on the shoulder, telling you to keep it up the way you were doing – both on the pitch and with your ankle. You shrugged it off at the time but you couldn't deny the way it made you feel a little warm inside. You were still quite self-conscious about yourself and your football here in Barçelona, so it was more than welcome to get a compliment about it, especially from someone that isn't the coach.

December was rough. You thought you'd get a little reprieve from cold winters as you now were a bit more south compared to England, but you were fooled. It was cold, it was busy, the training sessions only getting harder as the games ramped up in both domestic competitions and the Champions League. The month felt like it was going on forever but eventually you reached the end. Your final training session of the week, Thursday, but more importantly secret santa day. After you wrapped up both the outside and indoor session, everyone went for a shower and then gathered in the cafeteria. You all had some post-workout food and then got together at one big table, conversation flowing easily as everyone prepared to receive and give their gifts. You were one of the first who had to give their present. You'd gotten Mapi a big batch of her favorite coffee blend, along with a couple different syrups for her to try. You knew she loved her coffee and you hoped she'd be happy with it, but a subtle nudge from Ingrid had set you up in the right way and you were quite certain that the Spaniard would be pleased with your present.

"Oooh, muy bien!" Mapi wore a bright smile as she opened your present, clearly happy with what you bought her. Ingrid and you shared a knowing look before her girlfriend pulled you into a tight hug, pressing a smacking kiss against your cheek in thanks. Your cheeks flushed a little when you realized the two of you were in the centre of attention, quickly sitting back down and letting the afternoon roll on. What you didn't notice, though, whilst you and your defensive partner were sharing an embrace, was the jealous look in Alexia's eye.

Admittedly, she had been cold to you, some would even say it was borderline rude the way she treated you ever since you came in. But she had a reason. And she knew damn well that didn't excuse her behavior, but she couldn't bring herself to either telling you what was on her mind or dropping her cold act. So she kept it going, knowing it made you uncomfortable, although that was the last thing she wanted to do. In reality, Alexia had started developing some feelings for you. None very deep, because how in the world would that be possible based on nothing more than a handful three-sentence conversations, but you had piqued her interest. Your hard-working nature, the way you held yourself, your professionalism – but who would she fool if she said she didn't find you attractive. It might've been the biggest one, even. Alexia felt attracted to you. But by the time she realized that, she'd kept the cold act up for so long that she didn't think there was a way back, so instead of confessing to you she only acted more distant and more cold. She knew she was in the wrong, but an opportunity had popped up to make it up to you and she wasn't going to let it slip.

Time flowed easily, and before you knew it your name was called. Your eyes shot around the room to see who would get up, but seeing her walk over to the pile of presents was the last thing you'd expected. Alexia's light expression that she was wearing earlier, had changed to the stone cold one that she wore whenever she was in close proximity with you. You noticed how neatly wrapped her present was. A beautiful beige wrapping paper, with gold accents here and there, topped off with a small black ribbon. She came to stand beside you, propping one of her arms on the back of your chair, leaning her body over to you and dropping the present on your lap. You were well aware of how close the Spaniard was to you right now, probably closer than she'd ever been. When she didn't say anything, you just went to unwrap the package that was heavy in your lap. You didn't recognize the packaging immediately, but when you realized what was underneath the wrapping paper you could feel a couple tears pricking your eyes.

An array of British snacks and comfort foods sat in your lap, from Cadbury chocolates to Walkers crisps, digestives and so much more. You hadn't expected such a thoughtful present from anyone, especially not Alexia. You quickly wiped away a stray tear that had escaped your eye, quickly standing up and turning your body towards Alexia. "Thank you," you said, not knowing what to do with your hands as you played with the rings on your fingers. You were more than thankful that most of the girls weren't paying attention to the interaction, most of them caught up with their own presents or inspecting what others had gotten. "Can I give you a hug?" You didn't want to overstep any boundaries, but you wanted to thank her appropriately for the present. You'd never voiced to her directly that you missed home, so it was clear that she'd just been paying attention. Maybe more than you thought she had been. Alexia didn't respond verbally but pulled you in a hug, awkwardly patting your back as she didn't know what to do with herself. In reality, she wanted to pull you tight, rub comforting patterns across your back and press a kiss against your crown but she knew that was a place she wouldn't return from. So instead, she did the next best thing; push you further away. "Just because I got you this, doesn't mean I like you."

Your body tensed up at her words and you suddenly noticed the burning sensation of her arms around you, quickly removing yourself from the embrace and sitting back down, nearly giving yourself a whiplash from the sheer force that you backed away from the midfielder with. You'd allowed yourself to get comfortable in the hug, sensing as if you two were crossing a bit of the boundaries that had been present ever since you met one another, but her comment put you right back where you started – maybe even further. The interaction didn't go lost on Mapi, who whispered something in Alexia's ear as she passed the defender to go back to her seat, Mapi clearly angry at her.

You sulked for the remainder of the evening, knowing you were being a pain in the ass but you couldn't bring it in you to care this time. When you said your goodbyes and made your way out of the facility later that evening, you felt a hand tugging you back before you could open the door of your car. Startled by the unexpected touch, you clutched your chest where your heart would be as your eyes met Ingrid's. "Ingrid, don't scare me like that, for god's sake," you said, playfully hitting the Norwegian's shoulder who only laughed at your reaction. The conversation soon took a turn, though, when she mentioned the earlier events. "Hey, about Alexia, I kno-", she started, although you didn't let her finish. "Ingrid, it's fine. She doesn't like me, I get it. I'll just steer clear from her. I don't need it to be told to my face, we can just avoid one another and everything will be fine."

Ingrid closed her eyes and shook her head, placing a hand on your arm that was animatedly waving along as you spoke. "No. God, no. You're so wrong." "I'm wrong? Ingrid, you heard what she said to me. I don't think I need more confirmation than what she verbally told me a couple hours ago." The Norwegian pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a deep sigh, before she spoke up again. "I know this is going to sound weird, but Alexia doesn't hate you. She doesn't dislike you, not at all. It's quite the opposite, if you ask me."

"The opposite?" you asked, a confused lilt in your voice as you urged Ingrid to speak further. "She'll give me hell for telling you this, but I can't just be a bystander to this anymore. She's hurting you." Ingrid took a deep breath and looked you in the eye. "Alexia likes you. And she doesn't know what to do about it. So she does what she does know, and that's pushing you away. I, uhm, agree that it isn't the way she should handle it and certainly not like she did just earlier, but she doesn't know any better." Your thoughts ran rampant in your head, thinking about all the conversations and interactions you had in the past months and gauging whether there was any point where Alexia acted like she liked you, even for a moment. "Ingrid, what the hell are you talking about?" You raised your voice, to which she put a hand on your shoulder, reminding you that you were outside the parking lot just outside the facility. "I know it sounds insane. I didn't believe it either when Mapi told me, but you know she wouldn't lie to her best friend about that. Now, I don't know how you feel about her, but I suggest you talk about it. Because she's been sulking about the situation at our house the last couple weeks and I can't bear it anymore. She has to do something about it, and quick."

"Ingrid, I-" "Y/N. Don't argue with me on this. I don't know how you feel about Alexia, but I know how it's been weighing on you that she's been treating you like this. If anything, it's just an opportunity to clear some of the tension. If you don't want to do it for her, do it for me and Maria." You nodded, begrudgingly, but you nodded nonetheless. You didn't say much more because you needed some time to process what the Norwegian told you, so you sent her away with another promise to text Alexia and then drove home. You took your time that evening to process everything. You thought back to the couple months, and the newfound information still felt like a fever dream. Alexia liked you. Liked liked you. You couldn't say it didn't flatter you. You also couldn't say that some of those feelings weren't mutual, but you'd need some time to explore those. And you'd need lots of time and conversations with Alexia before you could move past the way she treated you the past months. But you were ready to give it a try. So later that night, you sent the Spanish midfielder a text, secretly hoping that Ingrid had notified her that she'd told you, softening the blow a little bit already.

To: Alexia Hey, Alexia. I'm not sure how to approach this, but here goes nothing. I spoke to Ingrid today about us, and about you, I assume she told you this? I don't want to wave this away and say I think the way you treated me is excused now that I know the reason behind it. I know you know that too, and I'd love to talk about that if you are open to do so too. Nonetheless, I was still shocked when Ingrid told me the reasoning behind your behavior. I didn't expect it and it still feels a bit like a fever dream. I'm flattered, even? I'd love to explore it, Ale, but we'll have to talk about some things first.

You sent the message before you could overthink any of your word choices, and plopped down on the couch. You wanted to set your mind to the show that was playing on tv, but you couldn't focus – your thoughts seemingly unable to drift away from Alexia. You thought about what you wanted to say to her, how you wanted to word whatever you were feeling, but right before you could dive in the deep end of your feelings you heard a notification sound coming from your phone, slightly startling you. You picked it up with haste, eager to see what the blonde had replied.

From: Alexia Hola :) I'm sorry you had to find out through Ingrid, that's not fair on you. I know I should've told you and I know I've been childish about it, but I didn't know what to do with myself. I completely understand if my behavior has put a barrier between the two of us, because I've been nothing short of immature. I would love to talk to you about things, because I've been silent about it all for long enough. If you're down, I could call you? I hope you're enjoying your present.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips at the mention of her present, glancing over to the basket of snacks that was placed on your coffee table. You grabbed a packet of crisps and sat back on the couch, enjoying the salty snack while you typed a response to Alexia.

To: Alexia It's okay. I can understand where you're coming from, but I'm glad you're acknowledging that it was immature. I loved the present. What you said while I hugged you confused me even further, and I know I was killing the mood after that. I'm sorry for that. But thank you, it means so much to me. I'd love to call, but could you maybe come over instead? I'd prefer it if you were near, but don't worry if you can't. I know it's late and it's been a rough week.

From: Alexia I'll be right there.

You hadn't put your phone down as another message from Alexia chimed in, letting you know she was on her way to your place. You decided not to question how she knew your address, assuming she probably got it from Maria or Ingrid. You quickly freshened up a little, brushing your hair and putting on some fresh clothes, still in your training attire from earlier. You tidied a little, putting dishes in the dishwasher and rearranging your cushions as a knock on your door pulled you out of your thoughts. You opened the door to a sight you thought you'd never see. Alexia was sporting a small smile, a thin layer of sweat present on her face from the rush she was in coming here. In her hands was a small bouquet of red roses, and you wondered where she'd found the time to pick those up along the way. You felt warm inside and ushered the blonde to come inside, not wanting her to be in the cold hallway much longer.

"Hi," you said softly, still feeling a little apprehensive whenever she was around. Old manners died hard. "Hi. These are for you." Alexia stretched her arm out and gave you the bouquet of flowers, which you gratefully took and put in the empty vase on your kitchen counter. "Thank you so much. You know you didn't have to do that but, uhm, they're really nice. Thank you. I still needed some for this vase, clearly," you chuckled, your cheeks flushing slightly red at the loving gesture from the Spanish midfielder. You were still struggling to wrap your mind around the shift in behavior from Alexia, grown very used to her stone cold personality whenever you were around her. It was a very welcome change, but it was one that you'd have to get used to.

"Do you want a drink?" You asked Alexia, who was seemingly lost in thought while she looked around your apartment, taking in her surroundings. You decided to let her do that and fill up two glasses of water for you and her, slowly making your way over to the living room where she was looking through your vinyl collection. "You've settled in nicely, I really like how you decorated your apartment," Alexia said when she heard you shuffling around behind you. A bright smile crept on your face at the compliment. "Thanks. I've spent a lot of time trying to make it look cozy. Being that far away from my family and friends, it's just nice to have a place that feels like home." "I can imagine. I've never moved away from here and I've never had to struggle with something like you are right now, but I can imagine it's not easy at all. You're doing great." You looked away from Alexia's gaze as you felt your cheeks heating up again. "Do you want to sit?" You tried to steer the conversation away from the current topic, earning a nod from Alexia as she sat down on your couch, opposite to you.

You talked for hours on end, the conversation topics ranging from your family to hers, to your move to Barçelona and what sparked it, to how you've been feeling at the club, to eventually the – still slightly apprehensive – relationship between the two of you. Talking to Alexia felt easy, something you never thought you'd say. She was interested, listened with intent and really seemed like wanted to hear what you were saying. She asked questions, tried to understand your views on things and voiced back exactly how she felt. You hadn't expected her to be so open about her feelings after everything that happened the past couple of months, so it was a welcome change for the blonde to put her heart out like that. When you felt like she adequately expressed her feelings about you, you too talked about your own. You said that you really wanted to explore things between you, that you couldn't deny the blonde's charming energy and that you had found yourself gutted with how little the two of you had bonded over your first couple months in Barçelona – more than eager to make up for lost time.

When the night came to an end, you could feel a weight had been lifted from your shoulders, and Alexia felt the same. It had been nothing less than a burden for her to carry around, forever dancing around feelings that she didn't know how to express, pushing you further than she ever wanted to do. She was eternally grateful for the opportunity you were giving her by wanting to talk to her.

"Thank you, honestly. You didn't owe me anything and yet you gave me the chance to explain everything and talk about my feelings. I owe you one." You smiled brightly at Alexia and waved away her comments. "Don't worry about it. We've talked about it, we're okay. I understand where you were coming from. It's fine, Ale, I promise. I'm glad you came to terms with it."

The two of you started to make moves towards your front door, knowing you should end your conversations and call it a day, but with the prospect of a day off tomorrow and no training to wake up for, neither of you really felt the intent to wrap it up. Nonetheless, a couple moments later Alexia found herself in the hallway, leaning against your doorframe as you talked a little more, wrapping up your conversation.

You noticed Alexia looking down at her feet, playing with her fingers before she lifted her head and locked eyes with you again. "I might not be in the position to ask you this right now, but would you maybe want to go on a... date together?" You chuckled at Alexia's nervousness, a slightly red tint covering her cheeks as she spoke. You took one of her hands in yours and nodded fiercely, a smug grin covering your lips. "Yeah, I'd love to. Text me, okay? I'm free whenever." Alexia's smile grew wider with each word you spoke, the Spanish midfielder giddy about the prospect of taking you on a date. "I will. I promise. I should get going now, it's getting late." "You should. Be safe getting home. Have a good night, Ale."

You pressed a soft kiss to Alexia's cheek after wishing her a good night, causing the midfielder to blush deeper than she already had been. She stumbled over her words as she wished you another goodnight, clumsily walking backwards and gripping the handrail as she nearly fell head first on the first step of the stairs of your apartment block. You couldn't hold back the chuckle as you watched Alexia steady herself and rush down the stairs. "Be careful, capi!" you yelled after her, earning nothing more than a grumble and some Spanish curse words that you couldn't make out.

Sticking to her promise, Alexia was way more open with her feelings moving further. You went on a couple dates, you shared a few kisses and before you knew it you were dating. If someone told you that goddamn Secret Santa was what would bring you two closer, and eventually start a relationship, you would've never believed them.

#woso #woso imagine #woso community #woso x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #spain wnt #barcelona femini #barca femini x reader

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baekuras · 2 years ago

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Have stopped my binge of The Walking Dead (during season 9 just like last time I dropped it 😭 I am trying but also...tired so breaktime from that) to actually go watch Fear (the walking dead also bc duh) because I started it when it began but then took a break when it was on break till the new season and just never came back to it Anyhow I do also quite enjoy it (altho rip to I think season 4 which made me irate for many reasons at the beginning but then calmed down some so I am back to enjoying things) and the characters etc but I also am definitely going in it looking for comedy Didn’t do that for the main show as much because that was a rewatch But by now any media I consume I WILL make fun of (lovingly) or try to imagine funny scenes because...duh

i actually wanted to put all my other ramblings in the tags but there is was too much coming to mind with every word i write even though my memory can be shit so...readmore it is Watched till season 6 episode 5 so basically spoilers up to that

anyhow rip nick your chaos will be missed

i do also think the moment i rly decided to go make fun of everything lovingly(I need you to understand I genuinely mean that because I also did cry a lot during appropriate moments) was when nick & troy had their joyride through the horde at the ranch like yep everyone is stuck in the pantry slowly dying and also how the FUCK did we get here but also fuck it I’m in WOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOO CARCRASH

also fuck troy for being high on the “actual assholes i enjoy watching list” because while everyone of those got murder there why did he have to just casually sprinkle in some soft racism? or casual racism? i was about to say “not shoot on sight-racism” because rhe does do that...or I believe he would but that’s more a “humans are alive” thing than a “oh god is that a native american human ALIVE” thing....that’s his dad-may he rest in fucking hell forever dear GOD did his kids deserve better than his shitty ass making problems present past and future FUCK THAT man he is NOT on my “assholes who i actually like on screen” list

like my mood basically went from “urgh oh god fuck he’s a racist shithole.” to “oh FUCK he’s a child abuser racist shithole WHY DON’T YOU KEEP ADDING ON LET’S GET A FLAMETHROWER A GUN ISN’T ENOUGH HERE” (i think that’s basically about where i’ll end my opinions on the whole ranch shebang because any details may be missed by yours truly not being american so i am not going to know most details on treatment of native americans in the current age or age when this was filmed beyond the “oh yeah it’s shit” bits although I will mention that Taqa’s whole “he stole my ancestors land” at the beginning bothered me until it was revealed that “oh this dickbag actually shot his family like in the current time not 500years ago okay yeah no go off baby have fun”....and also that i only now learned his name was spelled w/ a q dear god everyones accent had me confused on his name for the longest time and his last name is ACTUALLY Walker why does it have to sound so same i am so bad with names aaaaaaah qwq anyhow rip him i was confused until now if his name was Walker(actual last nime), Tucker(which does not fit), Taka(also doesnt fit because it seemed more japanese to me but between the 3 options my brain presented was the most fitting so.....but noppe....a fucking q....just right there.....I’ll take the L and also where the fuck did this man even fuck off to)

speaking of fucking off: Rip to Nick, you blew up a damn only to die w/out any further character development afterwards 2 episodes later and then just got to hang out in the background in the past parts of future episodes

WHICH BY THE WAY IRRITATED ME SO MUCH not the Nick died thing but yes just from a “we are starting a new storyline for this-oops he dead :D” point yes it’s urgh But the flip-flopping from Past to present to past no present pastpresentpastofpewwgvszujsiop aneurysm of storytelling Like Okay So we start with new characters i have yet to give a shit about (and morgan who i have yet to give a shit about...again) to then go back to our oldies and THEN they fight and it’s a mess but now they’re friends somewhere between the past being shown and everyone fighting and manipulating and Al filming Nick’s dead body and me yet having to give a shit about anyone except for John because he seemed sweet and that’s about it what the actual fuck so yeah i skipped most of that until it calmed the fuck down but by then I was mostly annoyed by Al(i like her now but at the beginning i was mostly like “yeah yeah you got a big fuck you truck and like being an asshole to people and just bother and annoy them for a video-did great on youtube huh didn’t you now how about you actually do something helpful and get your ass out WITHOUT being a dickhead?” kinda deal....we got so far in terms of me actually giving a shit about her lol)

speaking of new character or oldes ones returning, Dwight! my boy! continuing being shot in various limbs to then stumble around (how is that a trend i notice) also rip his hairline because I am pretty sure between the main show and fear the makeup artists added more scarring to that scar-which i dont mind but is also kinda funny to imagine (like sir negan didnt burn you THAT much where did you find the rest or is it just the way you part your hair?) regarding hair post haircut&shave&further haircut later: who is this man and what have you done with the burned rat from before? anyhow i still like him and i kiiiiinda wish Morgan was a character who would have been more involved about the past simply because I’d have liked to see them chat about it-not even anything heavy but just about what happened, how everyone was doing after Dwight went away because Morgan was still there for a bit at least, or idk just a bit more remembrances of where they came from sprinkled in there

I mean we do have Morgan and his staff stuff still which I do actually enjoy, and ofc lately Dwight showing off his fancy torture skills ala....music like the good old saviour days but i want more xp

which goes back to another moment i had to chuckle at in my head even if it wasnt funny because Sherry basically went “We will hunt Virigina down and kill her and end all of this” to which Dwight basically went “okay i got my torture gear ready, got a plan and am ready to do some murder lets go” //insert Sherry shocked pikachu face-meme here I keep forgetting she left before shit got really real and heavy but like....yeah honey here is your husband back he comes with some extra baggage but also....you were there when he was part of fucking Daryl up what are you surprised by? That he’d literally kill for you and abandon what he built with the others if need be? bitch he followed you across the country for god knows how long-it’s Dwight! of course he would sweety please although i would like him to just tear some ass because there were many a moment where i though it justified but yes yes we go keep being peaceful now-and that’s good! mostly because the main cast we actually like and care about isn’t dropping like flies but i did also have fun w/ the whole war between the saviour and everyone else soooooooo....yeah chaos reigns

also shoutout randomly to the not-yet-radioactive kids+others who just disappeared from the story long enough to make me wonder if the writers forgot about them and then they appeared in the next episode lol

also random shoutout to john&june because they are adorable and cool and work well together as a team and couple i really like them

backpaddling to earlier again because rip alicia because if we timeline was in order it wouldnt have gone down in that order but just watching it she went from losing her brother to her mother dipping out shortly after her favourite child died like “woops sorry but i’ll go sacrifice myself now go take care of yourself now w/out your family like before” although last time someone started a fire and was dead they didn’t stay that way so...eh who knows let Madison return and fuck more shit and people up in her desperate attempt to keep her family alive(oops) and make things better but also kill anyone if she has to but at least she has nightmares about it <3

did I already mention I also had to laugh at Chris AND Travis’ deaths? not because they died because yeah sad i guess but A I didn’t like Chris at all so I was happy and B dear god this teen really went with some dumb ragtag dudebros who just shot their friend to death for a hurt leg (what is he? a horse? grow up) and then wanted o be hip and cool driving their car and crashed it and THEN got shot for the same thing you FUCKING IDIOT I am very much on the side of “let the kids go out and do stuff they can survive and aren’t 12″ but also chris my guy are you perhaps stupid or an idiot? prime teenage behaviour 10/10 made me hate him not for anything i’d consider bad writing but just for being a shithead i’d have known in highschool

Travis’ death made me laugh simply because of how abrupt it was and also how he just yeeted himself out the plane like yes a walker in there while they’re busy crashing down is bad but also lol (also Taqa going to the leftovers with Alicia all proud they shot it out the sky...................i also had to laugh because DUDE YOU ARE NOT DOING THAT....bitch is proudly showing off his kill from the wanna-be military ranch and it’s basically her dads corpse in the context of things.....like........i am dying xDD you can not be serious what was the plan here other than showing off? and then immediately having to feel a bit bad about it because woops killed the wrong man)

also trav dying via neck bullet vs morgan surviving heart bullet for over a month and being just fine after it got out travis forgot his plot armor rip v-v

#txts #also shoutout to the asshole driving the swat car #because he could not just drive back a little bit to have the guns actually hit #and got it stolen back by one guy basically #like yeah i was routing for our guys #but also...god you are bad at your job arent you?#you have basically a tank on your hands #and cant use it properly #and in nitpicky details #you try to throw dwight off by swerving left and right but keep it in the same rythm after a turn or two #i get nitpicky when i wanna make fun of characters dont take this too serious #but its also in my most recent memories because i just saw that episode a couple hours ago so its fresh in my mind #this went on for too long #i think i have been thinking/typing for 20minute so i'll leave it at that or gods help me #i am sure i could think of more if i tried but i am just here vibing #none of this is constructive criticism #well except the 'fuck the start of season 4 for how it was shown/written' bit because fuck that #i hated it in the main show and they just went further and further with it here so fuck it #and the usual 'why is this 16 episodes long #or 'do we have to have a whole episode only/mostly about xcharacter'#bit but we def had worse for those from what i remember #love the action in season 7&8 of the main show but dear god if i had to wait week to week for a new episode of nothing i think i'd have died #the walking dead #fear the walking dead #hi i am just here throwing word soup out w/out coherency so don't mind me here

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galactic-magick · 1 month ago

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The Handsome Assistant: Viktor x Reader

Summary: You keep running into the handsome Dean's assistant, whom you find you have a lot in common with. You develop quite the crush, and things get a little messy when your friends find out about him.

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: some implied suggestive stuff, alcohol use

Author's Notes: Set before Season 1 Act 1. Just a warning, this is probably the most heavily self-indulgent of my Viktor fics so far. I’ve had ideas bouncing around my head for a long time about who I’d be if I lived in the Arcane universe, and I eventually just ended up taking inspiration from what I do in real life. So basically Reader works in human services and is similar to a social worker. I tried my best to write it in a way that makes sense even if you’re not familiar with that field.

Also, the roommate/friend characters are based on my besties irl, one of which is also my beloved tumblr mutual @ohboi , who has been dealing with my nonstop Viktor obsession for a long ass time now so shout-out to them lol. I wrote you living your dream in this fic as a way to apologize <3

It’s exhausting dealing with the powers of topside. There’s no sense of urgency here, no drive for real progress. You’ve attended meeting after meeting, maintaining composure every time they tell you your mission isn’t a priority, or that it will take decades to implement.

All you want is to help the struggling children in the Undercity. It’s what you’ve dedicated your life to, studying human services and psychology at the Academy and building your own grassroots group with a few others from your graduating class. You primarily advocate for better education, as the schools down there barely get any funding. The council doesn’t want to hear it, though, as it’s much easier to forget about the citizens below their feet.

It frustrates you beyond belief, especially since the first chunk of your life was spent in the Undercity. You lived the stark contrast between the two cities yourself, being granted countless more opportunities once your family moved to Piltover. It was sickening, and you felt so guilty with your new privileges when your friends back home still had none. But without those privileges, you wouldn’t have been able to attend the Academy and give back.

You resist the strong urge to scream after another failed proposal with the council. You prepared all of your points for weeks, fact-checking everything and making sure your ideas were plausible. The budget and statistics you wrote out projected exponential progress for both cities, as focusing on the new generation of Zaunites would encourage the next great minds and likely lead to collaboration on mutual issues. But of course, the council is not ready to contemplate such a future.

There was one factor that wasn’t usually there, though, a handsome young man sitting beside Professor Heimerdinger. He was furiously taking notes the entire meeting, looking back down at his journal anytime you made eye contact with him. Out of all the councilors, Heimerdinger seemed the most open to your ideas, but without a majority agreeing to cast a vote to actually change policy, nothing would happen.

You walk back down the long hallway, noticing someone in your peripheral vision.

“I’m sorry the council remains so stuck in their ways,” he says. “Trust me, I understand how hard it is to hold back your anger towards them.”

You turn your head, seeing the young man from earlier, “Who are you?”

“Viktor. I’m assistant to the Dean of the Academy,” he replies, leaning on a cane. “I quite liked your ideas. I think they could work.”

“I know they would work.”

You sigh, quickly realizing you’re projecting your feelings onto this stranger.

“Sorry,” you correct yourself. “I just don’t understand how they can just not care about the suffering down there. I’m from the Undercity, I’ve seen what’s happening there firsthand, and it’s only getting worse.”

Viktor’s eyes widen a bit, “I’m from the Undercity, too.”

“You’re from the Undercity and you’re the personal assistant to Heimerdinger?” you question, a bit shocked at the prospect.

“It’s really not that big of a deal, but yes.”

“What do you mean, not a big deal? I’ve never even met anyone else from the Undercity who got into the Academy.”

“I suppose we are a rare breed,” he says. “I imagine I never saw you there due to our differences in studies.”

“Most likely,” you shrug. “None of my classes were in the science halls, assuming that’s where you were.”

He smirks, “What makes you assume I studied science?”

“You just have that look about you.”

He laughs, “Well, you’re right. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised someone well-versed in analyzing humanity read me so quickly.”

“Don’t worry, you’re still mostly a mystery to me. I can’t read minds or anything,” you flash him a genuine smile.

There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again.

“I need to get back to my lab, but I do hope we cross paths again. I’ll certainly discuss your proposals more with Heimerdinger as well.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

He leaves in the opposite direction, his cane tapping the floor.

What an interesting twist of fate, meeting someone like you.

The second time you run into Viktor is at an Academy party a couple months later, something you both likely would’ve skipped if you could. It’s somewhat a recruiting event for new students, and several alumni were asked to represent their fields of study. It’s not that you mind talking with prospective students, but you know you’ll have to hold back a lot of your true opinions when doing so. If you go off about how the curriculum doesn’t cover enough about the issues in the Undercity, you’ll surely get a reprimand from your former professors. You could lose several connections and investors in your organization as well, something you’re not willing to risk. Instead, you keep a smile on your face, engaging in conversation politely and answering questions.

You notice Viktor sitting at one of the far tables, his eyes darting around the room. He has several contraptions set up, and occasionally people come up to ask him about them. He lights up when he speaks, his face making the cutest expressions.

You notice yourself staring, quickly turning your head towards something else.

That sconce on the wall looks nice, doesn’t it?

As the event slows down and the crowd shuffles out, you pack up your things and head to the door, glancing back at Viktor’s table for a moment. He’s looking right back at you, and your heels swivel promptly to go see him.

“Hey,” you say, shooting him a smile. “Nice to see you again.”

Shit, was he this handsome the first time you met him?

“You as well,” he nods, gathering up his own things scattered in front of him. “Did you find anyone to join your program?”

“A few, yeah. You?”

“Several. More than I expected.”

He huffs, soon realizing all of his tech and science displays were not going to fit in the one cart that was left.

“I can help you carry your stuff, the science wing isn’t that far from here, right?” you offer, shifting your things under one arm and grabbing some of his things with the other.

“You don’t have to do that,” he protests, but you’re already propping open the door and gesturing him to come along with a head tilt.

“I really don’t mind. Come on.”

You help him put things away in the different classrooms and offices, careful not to break anything. You’ve never been in this side of the school before, and it’s set up quite differently than the usual classrooms you were in. There’s much more going on than a usual lecture hall, tools and chemicals you don’t dare touch lining the perimeter. Viktor thanks you for your assistance as you finish getting everything in place, and you once again prepare to go your separate ways.

“Wait—” he says before you leave, pulling out his journal and flipping through it. “I wrote down a lot more notes that might be helpful for your project, I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

He hands over the open page for you to read, and your jaw drops. It’s so detailed, every proposal you had broken down to its smallest pieces. He even laid out the budget and resource use and everything it would take to not only build and fund better schools in the Undercity, but also work on housing and overall infrastructure. He even has some theories scribbled on how to keep the air cleaner and fix problems with the fissures.

You can’t believe he’s been thinking about you and everything you said for all this time since you last met.

“Viktor, this is amazing.”

“I know it still may not convince the entire council, but I found your ideas quite inspiring. I hope my calculations can be informative.”

“They certainly are,” your fingers hover over the written words and numbers. “Thank you, Viktor.”

“Of course,” he grins. “I look forward to seeing what you accomplish.”

You find yourself running into him a lot more often after that, “accidentally” walking by each other’s offices at least once a week and talking long beyond what you probably should while working. Your soul feels so in tune with his, a phenomenon that surely shouldn’t be happening with someone you haven’t known very long.

Your conversations quickly progress to topics non-work related, his curiosity blooming with every little thing you share with him. Most days after work you simply can’t stop talking to each other, causing you to get home later and later until your roommates start to get nosy.

“I really have to go, Viktor,” you laugh, glancing at the clock that reads three whole hours past the end of your shift. You’ve been chatting about embarrassing Academy stories, reminiscing on both the stark similarities and differences between your experiences.

His eyebrows raise. “Shit, is it really that late?”

“Yeah,” you grab your bag with a sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

“You already work too much overtime as it is! What’s so important that you have to stay late every single day?” one of your roommates, Eli, probes, clearly unsatisfied with the half-truth answers you’ve given so far. You don’t really want to tell the full truth just yet, that you’ve been talking with the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, and you don’t experience the passage of time whatsoever when you’re around him. That would sound ridiculous, especially since absolutely nothing will ever come of it. He’s a wonderful colleague, but you’d be foolish to ever expect anything more.

“There’s just a lot to do,” you finally say.

“You need a break, that’s what you need to do,” they emphasize. “How about we go down to The Last Drop tomorrow night? It’s been a while since we’ve seen our friends down there.”

You nod, “Alright, I’ll try not to stay late tomorrow.”

“You better not.”

They glare at you jokingly, and you let out a laugh and exhale of relief.

You finish up your notes for the day, whipping your head back and forth to check if the coast is clear. You know yourself and your own weakness—you certainly won’t get out of here on time if you run into Viktor for even a second.

But of course, like clockwork, his familiar tap on your leg with his cane greets you moments later, your heart fluttering to a discomposing degree. Him coming to see you is a routine now, and despite your promise to your friends you are aching to talk to him. You haven’t had a proper night out in months, why is it so hard to just leave?

If any of your racing thoughts are visible on your features, Viktor certainly picked up on them.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just...long day,” you reply. “But my roommates are taking me out tonight, maybe that will wake me back up.”

“I won’t keep you long, then—”

He’s cut off by Eli calling your name, jaw dropped as they come towards you down the hallway.

“I knew there was something you weren’t telling me!” they chuckle in disbelief. “Working late my ass.”

“I was literally on my way home!”

“I just wanted to come check!”

Your face grows hot. It isn’t abnormal for your roommates to visit you at your job every so often, bringing you important documents you forgot at home or bringing you a treat on your birthday, but under the current circumstances you’re a bit mortified.

They reach out their hand, “I’m Eli, Y/N’s roommate. Who do you think you are?”

“Viktor.” he shakes it, surprisingly not appearing phased by their directness.

“Interesting,” they look him up and down, then turn to you. “So, he’s coming with us, right?”

“Oh, um...I didn’t ask—“

Viktor can’t help but smile at your flustered face.

“If I’m invited, I wouldn’t mind joining.”

“I can’t believe you.”

Mumbling under your breath, you enter The Last Drop. Viktor told you he’d meet you there in about an hour, which thankfully gives you some time for some drinks to numb your nerves.

“Look, I honestly don’t know why you didn’t just tell us about him. He seems like a good one.”

“It’s not like that,” you correct them. “He’s not into me like that. We just work on some projects together, that’s all.”

You order a drink from Vander at the bar, gulping it down a little too quickly.

“That kinda night, eh?” he laughs, pouring you another one before you have to ask.

“Yeah.”

You have a few more drinks and shots with your roommates and old Undercity friends, your mind and body entering such a daze that you almost forget Viktor is meeting you there later. You play games together and get teased about some of your adopted topside ways, and you even get back at Eli by pushing them to talk to Sevika, who they ogle at quite literally every time you come to this bar with them. It’s the kind of night where you can be free and careless, temporarily leaving your problems behind in favor of bad decisions.

You have to do a double take when you finally see Viktor arrive. He’s changed out of his Academy uniform, now dressed much more casually and much more like a Zaunite.

“It seems I’m a little late to the fun,” he observes.

“We’re just starting!” you beam, the drunk giggles taking over you.

“How many have you had?”

“I don’t know, like 7 or 8 maybe,” you shrug.

He lifts his cane against you and steers you away from the bar, shaking his head, “I think you’re done for tonight.”

“Fine,” you roll your eyes. “But not because you told me to, because I don’t want to throw up.”

He stays close to you while you stumble back to your friends’ table, chuckling at the slurred introductions you give him. They all accept him into their games and conversations instantly, and you quickly find out Viktor can handle his liquor a lot better than you. He puts all of them to shame, and they love finally having decent competition.

Your friends all whisper their approval to you throughout the night, even though you’ve repeatedly reminded them that nothing is going on. Although, you’re not really helping your case by zoning out every few minutes on his face.

“You have pretty eyes,” you say, staring until you realize what you just said out loud.

“That’s very kind,” he responds hesitantly. “But I’m sure your vision is a bit...tainted.”

“Alcohol doesn’t change color perception, dumbass.” you retort. “Besides, I’m sobering up a little.”

“Well then,” he smiles. “Thank you.”

You sigh, taking a sip of some water and glancing around the room. The bar is close to closing, and most of your friends have left.

“Have you seen Eli recently? I haven’t seen them in a while.”

He snickers, “You didn’t see them go in the back with Sevika?”

“They what?” you jump out of your seat. “Oh they’d better tell me everything.”

“I’m sure they will,” he laughs. “Do you need someone to walk you home, then?”

“Probably. Who knows how long they’ll be.”

The buzz has worn off quite a bit now, so thankfully you’re not tripping all over nothing and further embarrassing yourself. Viktor’s beautiful glow in the moonlight is more than enough to accomplish that, your gazes prolonging far longer than they should.

“Thank you for coming tonight, it was fun,” you say, fumbling for your apartment key in your pocket. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that, though.”

“Don’t apologize. It was very amusing.”

“Good.” you exhale. “Just ignore anything weird I said, okay?”

“I’m not sure that’s possible,” he smirks. “Now get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sleep is certainly what you get, and the next morning before work is full of a head-pounding hangover and chaotic conversation. Your roommates Eli and Chanthou can’t stop laughing about everything that happened, and naturally you’re very nosy about the Sevika situation. Eli tells you every little detail of course, giddy and in disbelief that they managed to make-out with her all night.

“So? Are you guys going to get together again?” you ask on the edge of your seat.

“I hope so.”

“Looks like you both got what you wanted last night,” Chanthou adds.

“Guys, he just walked me home. That’s all.” You’re getting a little annoyed with the constant reminders that your little crush is not, in fact, reciprocated.

“You...don’t remember?” she looks at Eli, then cocks her head at you. “About halfway through the night you were all over him. We just assumed you guys finally confessed.”

You didn’t think you drank enough to blackout, but you definitely don’t remember whatever they’re talking about. Besides, if you really were doing that, why didn’t Viktor say something once you were sobered up?

And what, now you have to see him in the office today, having no idea what you said to him?

“Oh, fuck, guys. What exactly did I do?”

“I don’t know what happened after I went back with Sevika, but before I left you were sitting on his lap on the couch and playing with his hair—”

“WHAT?”

“Wow, you really don’t remember, do you?”

You groan, wishing you didn’t have to go in today. You have a couple important meetings though, so you’ll have to power through. You take some painkillers and grab your things, praying for the first time that you can get through the day without seeing Viktor.

Your headache refuses to lessen its throbbing for your entire shift, making the work you usually enjoy completely miserable. You snap at one too many co-workers and find yourself staring at the clock desperately. Why did you agree to drinking on a weeknight again?

Just as you dreaded, you run into Viktor outside, too obviously waiting for you to pretend to ignore him.

“Hey…” you avoid looking into his eyes. “How come you didn’t say anything about what really happened last night?”

“I...wasn’t sure you’d remember,” he confesses. “I suspected you blacked out when you said you didn’t remember seeing Eli leave. And I wasn’t sure you meant what you said anyway.”

“Please, Viktor. Just tell me what I said. All my roommates told me was I couldn’t stop touching you, which I am so sorry about—“

“N-No, don’t be. Everything was consensual, I assure you.” his face flushes. “You just told me you have feelings for me, that’s all. I was going to tell you last night too if you hadn’t said it first.”

Your eyes widen at his words, your heart threatening to leave your chest.

“But it seems you don’t remember, so I can still count this as making the first move, hmm?”

Shivers race down your spine as Viktor leans in, his fingertips grazing your cheek. His lips meet yours softly, your eyes fluttering shut as he presses deeper. His hand remains holding your face when he pulls away, scanning your expression for your reaction.

“I guess the feeling is mutual,” you chuckle, still a bit breathless.

“Quite so, darling.”

More Author's Notes: I have a bad habit of getting drunk around guys I like irl bc I literally can’t handle being around hot people sober so that's the inspiration for that situation lol. Also, a part 2 to this is already in the works, it'll be set during Act 1 and probably parts between 1 and 2.

#viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #arcane viktor x reader #viktor x reader #viktor arcane #arcane viktor #arcane

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imaginespazzi · 20 days ago

Text

Our Merry Eternity

And she swears that every Christmas season, it feels like they fall deeper and deeper in love with each other.

(In which a writer would like to argue that a day after Christmas, is a perfectly reasonable time to release a Christmas fic)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff, fluff, fluff with some hurt/comfort and angst if you squint

Words: 9.4K (if I could write things shorter maybe y'all would get things faster but alas)

TW: Implied sexual content/suggestive content, mentions of divorce, mentions of injuries, swearing

A/N: MERRY (one day after) CHRISTMAS MY LOVIES <3 It seems like everyone wanted domestic fluff and who am I to deny the people what they want (even if it is a little later than I intended it to be) and I didn't realize how much I missed eternity-verse till I wrote this. I'mma keep this short and sweet and go through the basics. Such as the fact that I did not edit. I eventually will but for now, feel free to let me know about any grammar/spelling/formatting issues. And even though I haven't had the time to go through my inbox in a hot second, I promise I will soon so as always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see in the future. Have a lovely rest of your holidays my angels <3

It’s beginning (to look a lot like Christmas)

Paige isn’t the biggest fan of Christmas; she doesn’t dislike it by any means but she’s never understood the fascination everyone else seems to have with it. Perhaps it’s because when she was younger, Christmas had been her parents’ favorite holiday to try and one-up each other. They’d competed in everything, from how big the tree was to how evenly spread the icing on the cookies were. Eventually the excitement of getting a big expensive present from one parent that would only be rivaled by an even bigger, more expensive present from the other wore off and all that was left was this hollow feeling of being torn in two. Her parents have matured now -no longer in a constant battle for her approval now that they had other kids to focus on as well- but the magic of Christmas had long worn off and Paige hadn’t bothered trying to rediscover it.

Until now.

Because right now, watching -through a facetime call that’s been running for almost four hours now- Azzi run around Walmart, searching for decorations and presents with her exasperated family in tow, almost feels a little magical. The way the younger girl’s eyes twinkle when she finds the perfect gift, the way her dimples deepen when she triumphantly wins an argument against her mother for an ornament her tree needs, makes Paige think that it would be so easy to fall in love with Christmas, if she got to spend it with Azzi.

And it’s like Azzi’s reading her mind because suddenly the younger girl’s face is filling all of Paige’s screen as she holds the phone close to her face, lips pouting in a way that has the blonde feelings decidedly unfriendly feelings toward a girl she’s barely known for six months, but feels like a best friend she’s known all her life.

“I wish we could spend Christmas together,” Azzi says with a slight whine, “and then you could help me with all of this. They’re absolutely no help-” her last sentence is cut off by her family and Paige laughs as the Fudds break out into a series of indignant protests.

“Oh so you just want me for manual labor or something huh?” Paige teases, leaning back against her bed and folding her arms across her chest, “and here I thought it’s cause you missed me.”

“I do miss you,” Azzi says matter-of-factly.

“Nah,” Paige shakes her head, “sounds like you just need another person to slave around for you.”

Azzi's mouth falls open at the accusation as the Fudds break into laughter behind her, the sound of it making something impossibly warm bloom in Paige’s chest.

“I do not make people slave around for me.”

“Yeah you do. You’re the princess. You order us around and we do as we’re told.”

“Here, here-ow!” Jon’s noise of agreement is cut off by his sister elbowing him in the stomach, “do all that work and get rewarded by violence too.”

“I tell you I miss you and this is how you repay me?” Azzi asks, her voice tinged with drama.

“Nah I still don’t believe you miss me,” it’s a lie; Paige is fully aware Azzi misses her -thinks that the younger girl has to feel at least a semblance of the emptiness she feels herself at the distance between them- but she likes making Azzi repeat it; likes the constant confirmation that Azzi misses her too.

“Of course I miss you P, after all,” Azzi’s eyes glint with mischief, “we’re engaged aren’t we? A girl’s gotta miss her fiancé.”

The cavalier use of the tone of endearment makes Paige freeze. It’s a joke; a callback to the fact that Paige had practically threatened Azzi that she’d have to marry her if the younger girl won their little pop-a-shot competition last summer at the Minnesota State fair. Paige hadn’t been thinking, it had just slipped out but then Azzi had won the game and then there were rings being exchanged and somehow the whole thing had become one big running joke between the two of them. Except, the idea of forever with Azzi doesn’t feel much like a joke to Paige. It feels like a wish, a hope, a want, a need something she’s not quite ready to admit to herself yet.

“I miss you too Az,” Paige says softly as they grin at each other through the phone, “can’t wait to see my best friend soon.”

Thirteen days to be exact -they’d planned to spend the last half of winter break together- but it’s not like Paige is crossing the days off of her calendar or anything.

“Fiancé,” Azzi corrects and Paige’s heart flutters despite her brain trying to remind her that this is just a bit they’re playing at.

“Right, so fiancé,” the word tastes like sugar cookies and marshmallows on the tip of her tongue, “you get my present yet?”

“You know I have and before you ask,” Azzi gives her a knowing look when Paige excitedly opens her mouth, “no I won’t give you a hint about what it is.”

“But Azziiiiiii-”

“Absolutely not Paige,” Azzi says firmly, “presents are meant to be surprises.”

“Aren’t fiancés meant to tell each other everything?” Paige scrunches her nose.

“Not this. Christmas presents are a sacred secret,” the younger girl replies gravely.

“And who made you an expert on all things Christmas presents?”

“Santa did,” Azzi retorts haughtily.

Paige snorts, “well Santa doesn’t ex-”

“PAIGE MADISON BUECKERS,” Azzi yells and the blonde can tell by the way she winces immediately that the younger girl’s little outburst had gotten her more than a couple of wary looks, “Paige Madison Bueckers,” she hisses again, her voice much quieter this time, “you take that back right now!”

“Az-”

“Take it back!”

“Bro you’re fifteen years old,” Paige argues.

“Believing has no age,” Azzi hums airily, “now take it back.”

“Nope!”

“Take it back or I’ll end our engagement,” Azzi threatens and Paige blanches at ultimatum.

“You wouldn’t,” she gasps.

“Try me.”

Paige is sixteen and she’s only really just started to learn what love is, but she thinks, as she sits on her bed bickering on facetime over the most ridiculous of topics with a girl who makes her feel things she’s never felt before, that maybe love is just something as simple and crazy as pretending admitting Santa is real so she can prevent her fake engagement, that’s almost beginning to feel a little much like a real promise, from being called off.

2. With you (under the mistletoe)

The truth is that neither of them quite remember what started the fight or even really why it had continued after. All they know is that one minute everything had been fine and then the next minute, they were fuming at each other and their plane ride back to the DMV for Christmas had passed in uncharacteristic silence. They'd parted ways at the airport -glumly sauntering over to their waiting families while decidedly avoiding looking over in each other’s directions- with a dreadful mixture of regret, guilt and the feeling of missing each other. But despite the fact that they were both clearly miserable, Paige and Azzi were both too stubborn and too eager to prove which one of them could be more stubborn. This was their first true fight after they’d gotten together earlier this year, and they were both adamant that the other one would apologize first.

But Azzi can feel the urge to cave in grow stronger and stronger by the minute as she feels Paige’s body against her own as the blonde reaches over the younger girl to grab something from the shelf. The contact is unnecessary and she knows Paige is doing it on purpose, trying to get a reaction and it takes every inch of self-control Azzi has to not shiver as the older girl presses herself against her back, acting like whatever she’s grabbing isn’t right at the front of the shelf. Azzi tries to focus on the cookies she’s icing, tries to keep her hands still as she traces the outline of a star in royal icing, tries to do anything but focus on the way Paige’s warm breath is tickling against the back of her neck.

It’s two days till Christmas and the Fudd family and friends have gathered to do their annual cookie baking and decorating tradition. And Katie had been clear that no matter what issues Paige and Azzi were having, they wouldn’t interfere with the open invitation that Paige had always had -since she’d moved to the DMV but even before that really- to join them throughout the Christmas festivities. Azzi had pretended to be a little miffed by it but secretly she’d been hoping that her girlfriend -god she still got such a thrill out of being able to call her that- would show up. They’d only really been apart for a day, but since they’d met, Paige and Azzi hadn’t gone often without talking to each other -whether it was in person or through text or on the phone- and so 24 hours had felt a little bit like 24 years and Azzi had spent every second missing the girl who’d long since become a part of her soul. And even though Paige had grunted about only being here for Drew’s sake, Azzi knows -by the way the blonde’s eyes had drunk in the sight of her when she’d let her into the house, by the way her stiff shoulders had relaxed just by being near her again- that Paige had missed her just as much.

But neither of them are quite ready to admit it yet, and so, as they bustle around the confined space of the Fudd’s kitchen, Paige continues to find ways to light Azzi’s skin on fire and Azzi continues to pretend it isn’t making her burn with want.

“Noooooooo,” a drawled out whine from the kitchen table has Azzi and Paige jumping away from each other as they both turn to look at Drew.

Azzi’s eyes widen and Paige bursts into laughter as they take in the scene in front of them. Clearly the little boy had overestimated his strength and the piping bag had burst and now Drew stands by the table, his lips slightly parted in shock, as the red icing -originally intended for the Santa hat cookies- drips down the front of his shirt. Jon and José are doubled down in their chairs, tears practically streaming down their faces as the sound of their laughter echoes through the walls.

“Oh my god,” Paige manages to get out between her giggles, “what did you do Drewskie.”

“Nothing,” her little brother immediately defends himself, “it literally burst out of nowhere.”

“Sure it did little Hulk, sure it did,” José teases as he swipes his finger over Drew’s ruined shirt and then licks the icing off of it, the casualness of it causing Jon and Paige to burst into another round of laughter while Azzi tries as hard as she can to keep her own giggles contained but a smile slips through the cracks.

“It’s not funny,” Drew stomps his feet petulantly, “I’m all sticky and icky and gross. Azzi,” he looks at the brunette with imploring eyes, “tell them to stop- OH MY GOD ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME TOO.”

Azzi's eyes widen as she tries to protest, “no of course not. C’mon let’s get you a new-”

But before she can put her plan into action, clearly Drew has a different idea and before Azzi can stop it from happening, the little boy is grabbing another piping bag -this one with green icing- and aiming it straight at Jose. There’s a split second of silence as the green icing arcs through the air, almost in slow motion, before landing with a splat on Jose’s newly bought t-shirt. And then the room bursts into chaos as Drew immediately dives behind Azzi’s legs, Paige and Jon continue to lose their minds laughing and José lets out a loud scream.

“WHAT THE FU-”

“José language,” both Paige and Azzi reprimand immediately and José glares at them but corrects himself anyways.

“What the fudge dude,” José scowls at Drew, “this is a brand new shirt.”

For his part, the little boy shrugs, “I thought you liked eating icing off of shirts. I figured I’d make it easier and let you eat it off of your own shirt.

If it’s possible this somehow makes Jon and Paige laugh harder and instead of focusing his wrath on Drew who’s still nestled behind Azzi’s legs, José turns on the two of them instead.

“You guys think this is SO funny don’t you,” he says menacingly, grabbing for two more piping bags.

“José no,” Paige is the first one to recover as she tries to turn away from the mess but it’s too late, and just as she’s trying to bolt out the door, she’s stopped by a glob of pink icing landing with a splat on the back of her plain white shirt.

“Oh you’re so dead,” Paige whispers angrily as she turns around, grabbing another bag of icing and aiming it directly at José’s face.

And then there’s no stopping anyone as Azzi watches as all the beautiful icing she’d painstakingly made and dyed into different colors begins to be thrown all over the kitchen, a rainbow painting itself all over the walls and floors. Drew darts out from behind her legs, joining into the mayhem as he starts to pelt Jon with all sorts of colors.

Seeing them all distracted and knowing it’s only a matter of time before she gets sucked into all of it, Azzi slowly tiptoes backwards, wanting nothing to do with the mess, and she’s just about to turn around and run up the stairs when a low voice echoes behind her.

“And where do you think you’re going,” because of course Paige had noticed her trying to escape; Paige always noticed when it came to Azzi.

“Paige,” Azzi warns slowly, trying to move away from the other girl, her eyes fixated on the purple icing in the blonde’s hands, “please.”

Paige smirks as she takes another step towards Azzi, “this is a little unfair isn’t it?”

“Hey I didn’t start any of this,” Azzi puts her hands up in surrender, choosing to back away from the stairs and towards the living room instead, “go fight the people who did.”

Paige shakes her head as she takes another step, “I already got ‘em all. Amateurs,” she says cockily, “they think they can beat me in a food fight.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, “is there anything you’re not arrogant about?”

“Can’t help that I’m good at everything,” Paige shrugs and Azzi’s about to come up with a snarky retort when the blonde’s eyes soften, “except I guess- I guess I’m not too great at apologizing.”

Gone is the air of overconfidence that had surrounded the older girl just a second before and in her place is that soft, vulnerable Paige that Azzi is so desperately in love with and she can’t help but take a step towards the blonde.

“We should both probably apologize huh,” she says quietly, “think we both said some petty shit we didn’t mean.”

It’s true; they’d known each other so long and so deeply that they knew exactly how to push each other’s buttons, how to say the exact wrong thing to rile each other up when they were frustrated. The fight had been inevitable; an explosion of all the angst that existed between two athletes who were both fighting injuries and watching their team struggle without them. It had started with something little that Azzi can’t quite remember but then they were yelling about other things -Paige’s grievances about how Azzi had an irritating habit of hovering and Azzi’s issues with Paige’s tendency to close herself off- and it had ended with both of them near tears as they’d frustratedly stomped into their rooms.

“I’m sorry,” Paige says it first, as she loops her arm around Azzi’s waist, bringing the younger girl as close to her as she can, “I love you. I miss you.”

Azzi smiles, her hands finding their rightful place around Paige’s neck, not caring that the other girl is still covered in sticky icing, “don’t gotta miss me baby. I’m right here,” she says softly, resting her forehead against the blonde’s, “I’m sorry too. I love you so much.”

“Look up,” Paige says softly, as she strokes Azzi’s cheek and the younger girl does as she’s told, laughing when she notices the mistletoe hanging above them.

“Kissing under the mistletoe? You’re so cliché Bueckers.”

“Clichés are clichés for a reason Az,” Paige hums faintly before she’s pulling Azzi into a searing kiss, holding her as tightly as she physically can.

And yet Azzi still finds a way to tug her closer, trying to find a way to meld their bodies into one as she presses herself as close to Paige as possible. She’s just about to suggest they take this upstairs -because god has she missed being with Paige- when instead she feels the older girl pull away and before she can even react, she’s being hit in the face with a stream of bright purple icing.

“PAIGE WHAT THE FUCK,”

“Sorry baby. Just couldn’t help myself,” Paige grins as she steps back into Azzi’s space, gently attaching her lips to Azzi’s cheeks as her tongue languidly licks away at the icing and this time the younger girl doesn’t even try to hide the way her body reacts to it, “I promise I’ll clean you up though.”

3. I’ll be home (for Christmas)

“I’m good I swear,” Azzi’s voice is raw and hoarse like it often gets when she’s been crying and despite the younger girl’s best efforts to put on a brave front, Paige can hear right through it.

She cocks an eyebrow, shifting from her back onto her elbows and placing her phone -with the facetime call- against the headboard, “then why won’t you let me see your face?”

“It’s not me. Something’s up with my camera. I don’t know what,” and if it was anyone else, even someone else who also knew that Azzi had literally just gotten a new phone, maybe the attempted sincerity in the brunette’s voice would be enough to convince them that she was telling the truth.

But Paige has every line of the Azzi Fudd façade memorized, knows exactly how to discern the little cadences in her girlfriend’s voice and read between the lines. She knows Azzi’s purposely refusing to show her face; knows that it’s probably because it would take Paige one glance at said beautiful, gorgeous, stunning face to know that there had been tears running down it just a little bit ago.

The blonde sighs, choosing to let the lie go and instead focus on the precious few minutes she’s got to speak to her girlfriend in peace. This is the first time Paige and Azzi have truly been apart for an extended amount of time since the latter had gotten to UConn and somehow the past few weeks have felt worse than when they’d spent months and months apart. With Paige trying to lead an injury-riddled team and Azzi rehabbing another torn ACL, the opportunities to indulge in a proper facetimes call had been few and far between. And when they did finally find the team, it wasn’t just that they were physically tired; they were both emotionally drained too. It was hard recharging when their batteries -each other- were so far away and every call felt hollow; like something was missing.

“I miss you,” Paige says finally, feet digging into her bed as she musters up a soft smile, wishing that she could see Azzi return it with one of her own instead of staring at a black screen with only her own face in the corner.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” the younger girl says lightly and something uncomfortable churns in Paige’s stomach.

“You uh- you haven’t said it back in a while,” she says slowly, trying to keep her voice casual.

“Said what?”

Paige gulps, “that you miss me,” she gives Azzi a second to respond before her nerves have her speaking a mile per minute, “I mean not that you- not that you have to say it back or anything it’s just- you usually do- or like you always did and you just- you just haven’t said it back. And I mean I don’t say I miss you just so you’ll say it back or anything. I mean I do- you know- miss you and so that why I say it- because- because I miss you- I miss you so fucking much baby and I just- I just want you to know that but you haven’t- you haven’t said it back in a little bit and I just- Azzi,” her voice cracks as she tries not to let the tears slip through, “you do miss me don’t you?”

The other girl is quiet for so long that Paige thinks maybe she’s said too much; her mind rushes to the worst possibilities because what if Azzi really doesn’t miss her? What if her insecurities are right and the time apart has made Azzi realize that she wants something other than Paige?

“Of course I miss you Paige,” Azzi’s voice is thick with tears and all of Paige’s previous fears are replaced with worry instead, “god baby I miss you so fucking much. I miss you all the time and I’m sorry, fuck Paige, I’m sorry if I ever made you think I didn’t but baby- I-,” she’s heaving through her tears and Paige wishes she was with her; wishes she could wipe away her tears and hold her forever.

“Azzi-”

“I haven’t been saying it back because- because-” Azzi pushes on, still struggling to speak but determined to say her piece, “I can’t okay? I can’t keep saying it Paige- I can’t keep telling you I miss you and hearing that you miss me when we can’t do anything about it. And I get it- okay- I get it. I get that you have to be with the team and I have to be here and do my rehab and we can’t- we can’t be together right but fuck- I hate it. I hate it so much.”

“Azzi,” Paige says again helplessly.

She hates it too; hates that it’s so close to Christmas, so close to Azzi’s favorite holiday and her girlfriend is sobbing.

“Shit. I’m being a terrible girlfriend aren’t I? You have a game in a couple of hours and here I am being a fucking selfish wet wipe instead of wishing you luck. Fucking hell,” Azzi curses and Paige can picture her frantically pulling herself together as she tries to change her tone.

“You could never be a terrible girlfriend,” Paige reassures softly.

Azzi ignores her, “besides, we’ll see each other soon right? You’re gonna fly home from Toronto to Connecticut tomorrow and then come home to me after right? Just a couple more days,” and it sounds like she’s saying it more to herself than Paige, “just a few more days- few more hours really. We can do this.”

“Yeah,” Paige agrees but she can’t help but feel like even that’s too long and there’s a plan starting to form in her mind; a good use of all that NIL money she’s been earning.

“I love you P,” Azzi says softly, and despite the heaviness from before, Paige can hear the smile in her voice, “see you soon baby.”

“I love you too Az. I’ll be home soon,” Paige replies, a large grin settling onto her face as she gets ready to bring her idea to fruition; knowing that for now, their soons don’t quite mean the same thing.

***

Azzi thinks her parents and brother must have the patience of a saint. She’s acutely aware that she’s been a miserable grinch to be around; either ignoring them or answering them with tight one-word sentences. Since she’d come down to Virginia for her rehab, she’s kept herself holed down in her room, only coming out when absolutely necessary. The worst part of it, is that it’s her favorite time of the year and Azzi’s barely participated in all the little Christmas traditions -half of which had really been created by her- that she’d normally be excited to indulge in.

She sighs, burrowing herself further into her pillows to block out the chatter of her family upstairs. In a couple of minutes, she’s sure one of them will come rushing downstairs, pleading for her to come join them as they make Christmas themed pancakes. And she’ll refuse -just as she has with every other fun little activity- and all though whoever’s been tasked with getting her out of her cave will persist a little longer, eventually they’ll give up, that awful look, tinged in both disappointment and pity, on their face as they go back upstairs with a promise to bring her a plate in a little bit. It’s a terrible routine that’s been on rinse and repeat and Azzi thinks she’d really like to break herself out of it, but it feels like she’s drowning in it instead, and there’s not a lifeboat in sight to pull her out of her misery.

Turning on her side, Azzi reaches for her phone, flipping to Paige’s contact and her heart aches from their last conversation last night. God she’d been so selfish, venting like that knowing her girlfriend had a game in a couple of hours; knowing how stressful each game -no matter how easy the opponent- was with an injury-riddled team. But Paige had sounded so miserable when asking if Azzi still missed her that in a way it had been infectious and suddenly Azzi found herself letting her own hurt waterfall out of her lips.

She scrunches her nose, eyebrows crinkling in confusion when she realizes that the last text she’d sent Paige before going to sleep -a simple you did really good today baby, i’m proud of you right after the game- had gone unanswered. Azzi frowns, looking down at her phone as if her staring harder at it might just conjure up a message from her girlfriend. She’d fallen asleep almost right after sending it and it was unlike Paige to not have answered her by the time she woke up. Azzi rattles her brain, trying to remember if the blonde had mentioned any other plans -beyond a dinner with Aaliyah’s parents that wouldn’t have kept her from her phone- but she can’t remember anything. Briefly glancing at the time and knowing that Paige’s flight to Connectcut wasn’t supposed to leave for at least another three hours, Azzi hastily texts her girlfriend again, crossing her fingers behind her back in anticipation of a quick reply.

Good morning Paigey <3

She gives it exactly three minutes, stomach churning when she doesn’t get a reply.

I miss you baby.

Another four minutes and still no reply and Azzi starts to feel her head getting heavy with that familiar weight of over thinking. What if she’d overstepped last night? What if it was too much? What if Paige had decided that she couldn’t deal with Azzi and her crap anymore?

She can hear someone starting to hurry down the steps, the quickness making her think it’s probably one of her brother’s who’s been tasked with getting her out of her room this time. But Azzi keeps her focus on her phone, ready to reject whatever offer is about to be made. The door creaks open and she doesn’t look up, typing another message instead.

I love you Paige.

“I love you too Azzi.”

Azzi freezes at the sound of the oh so familiar voice, her gaze moving from her phone to the doorway in slow-motion. She blinks in disbelief, mouth falling open as she stares at the figure in her doorway, taking in the sight of a disheveled blonde ponytail, the custom UConn sweats draped on a body that’s radiating exhaustion but more than anything her eyes fixates on that smile, the one that’s always been just for her.

“Paige,” she breathes out slowly, almost as if she’s scared that saying it will make the girl in front of her disappear like a dream.

“Hi baby,” Paige says softly, casually pointing to her phone, “I got your message.”

“You’re here,” Azzi chokes out and then, louder, “you’re here oh my god, you’re really here,” she repeats, rushing to get out of bed, desperate to wrap her arms around Paige, to hold her and be held in return.

“Hey, hey, hey wait baby careful,” Paige chides, her focus immediately on Azzi’s knee, “stay where you are-”

“What? Why?” Azzi pouts and that elicits a little laugh from Paige as she walks over to the brunette.

“Because,” the older girl says quietly, as she crawls onto the bed and pulls Azzi onto her lap so the younger girl is straddling Paige’s hips, “I’m here.”

Azzi looks at her in awe, hand tracing the curves of Paige’s face like she still can’t quite believe this is real, “yeah,” she whispers, “you’re here.”

And then she’s kissing every inch of Paige’s skin that she can, memorizing the way it feels soft and smooth under her lips, trying to make up for all the lost time of the past few weeks and perhaps even for when she knows they’ll inevitably have to be separated again. Paige’s grip on her waist is tight, fingers gripping her like they’re scared to let go as she shivers under Azzi’s featherlight touch.

“I’m here,” Paige repeats again before she guides Azzi’s lips onto her own into a feverish kiss that has both of them letting out a long-kept sigh of relief.

It starts off innocent enough, the two of them savoring the moment, savoring the feeling of finally being in each other’s arms. But then Paige’s tongue is licking into Azzi’s mouth and the younger girl is grinding her hips in the way she knows will drive the blonde a little insane as Paige’s own hands find themselves roaming underneath Azzi’s pajama shirt, rubbing circles dangerously close to the edge of her sleep shorts.

“Missed you- missed you so fucking much,” Azzi babbles as Paige’s mouth moves away from her lips to trail a series of kisses down her jaw, to her neck before nipping at her collarbone.

“Me too- me fucking too,” Paige mutters between kisses as she soothes her tongue over the mark she’d just tattooed into Azzi’s skin with her teeth, eyes glazing over when it elicits a barely-concealed moan from the brunette’s lips.

“Missed this,” Azzi groans, continuing to roll her body against Paige’s, and she thinks she could fall off the edge just like this, untouched and fully clothed.

“I know, baby. I know,” Paige pants as she continues her assault on the young girl’s skin, “gonna take care of you. I swear. Gonna make up for everything tonight-”

“No now,” Azzi whines, hands tangling in Paige’s hair and pulling in a way that has the older girl groaning into the crook of her neck, “I need you now. I’ll be quiet, I swear. Paige please.”

“Fuck baby don’t say that. You know I can’t say no to you.”

“Then don’t say no to me,” Azzi responds with a smirk, one hand trailing down to gently flick against Paige’s nipples causing the blonde to let out a conflicted noise somewhere between pure arousal and reluctant protest.

“I can’t,” she says finally, resting her head against Azzi’s shoulder as she purposefully grips the younger girl’s waist to keep her still.

Azzi pouts, “why not?”

When Paige finally looks up at her, there’s a sheepish look on her face, “I made a bet with your brothers.”

“What?”

“They said they hadn’t been able to get you out of your room and I said I could do it in ten minutes and they said it would take me a lot longer,” Paige says, hands moving animatedly and Azzi can’t help the fond smile that flitters onto her face.

“So let me get this straight,” she says slowly, “we haven’t seen each other in weeks, haven’t fucked,” she purposefully grinds her hips down onto the other girl, “in weeks and you wanna delay it longer because you wanna win a bet against my brothers?”

Paige has the decency to look at least a little ashamed as she nods before giving Azzi a goofy grin, “yes? I love you?”

Azzi rolls her eyes as she slips off of Paige’s lap, already missing the warmth of being on top of the other girl, “can’t believe you’d rather win a bet than fuck me.”

“Nah,” Paige smirks as she stands up, her hands immediately inching themselves around Azzi’s waist, “I’d rather win a bet, use that money to get us a hotel tonight and then fuck you.”

“You’ve really thought this through haven’t you?” Azzi shakes her head, trying to hide her excitement at the idea of being in a hotel room -being alone, just the two of them- with Paige tonight.

“Ten steps ahead always baby,” Paige grins as she presses her lips against Azzi’s, ending it quicker than either of them would like, “now hurry up so I can win this bet.”

But Azzi doesn’t move, instead she pulls Paige back into her, resting their foreheads together as she breathes in the scent of her girlfriend.

“I’m really glad you’re home P,” she whispers and Paige smiles, gently rubbing her back, “didn’t feel like Christmas season without you.”

4. You’re all I need (underneath the tree)

Azzi’s just putting on the finishing touches to her outfit -dangly gold hoops that Paige had gotten her just because- when she feels a pair of arms wrap around her middle, a warm body being pressed against her chest. She smiles, letting herself melt into her wife’s -God she loves being able to say that- touch, leaning her head back against Paige’s shoulder.

“You look so pretty in that dress,” the older woman whispers into her ear as she runs her hands up and down the velvety red material covering Azzi’s body, “but you sure we have to go to your parents’ right now? Cause I think you’d look even better out of it.”

Azzi giggles; they’ve been together for almost nine years -known each other for even longer- and yet every time Paige gives her a compliment, she feels her insides swooning, cheeks going red like she’s still a teenager whose crush is flirting with her. And she thinks this feeling will never go away, that the halo-like glow Paige’s mere presence casts around her will never fade because this love -this all-consuming sense of you’re it for me between them- is going to last forever. She’s sure of it.

“Do you ever think of anything but sex?” Azzi rolls her eyes as she turns around in Paige’s arms, fingers immediately reaching up to fix the collar of Paige’s matching red shirt.

Paige grins, “nah cause I’m always thinking about you and so by default I’m always thinking about sex.”

“You’re insatiable,” Azzi shakes her head.

“Can you blame me when my wife looks like that?” Paige makes a show of looking up and down Azzi’s body, letting out a low appreciative whistle at the way the dress hugs her figure, the neckline dipping just low enough to stay respectable yet sexy.

“You look pretty good yourself Bueckers,” Azzi hums as she grazes her teeth lightly against Paige’s neck, making the older woman shudder.

“Careful Az,” Paige warns, the sultry lilt in her voice saying the exact opposite, “I might start getting the wrong idea.”

Azzi shrugs cheekily, “and what idea would that be?”

Paige smirks, gently tugging at Azzi’s dress to expose a shoulder before she’s attaching her lips to the newly uncovered patch of skin, “that maybe you want us to be late. Or better yet, maybe you don’t want us to go at all.”

Keening under the softness of Paige’s touch, Azzi reluctantly pushes the older woman away, and that might be worse because now she can see her eyes and the lust swimming in them makes her want to give into temptation. But they’re already running late and she has no desire to give their brother’s any teasing material, so she settles on stealing another kiss from Paige’s lips.

“Go warm up the car,” she mutters against the blonde’s lips, gently squeezing her waist before she detaches from Paige and starts to fix her dress, “I’mma just do a quick double check and then be out.”

“Yes your highness,” Paige teases with a slight roll of her eyes before she’s grabbing both her and Azzi’s packed overnight bags and heading towards the car.

Azzi smiles as she watches her go. As much as they joked about not going at all, both of them loved spending Christmas with their families, especially considering how the Fudds, Bueckers and everything in between had melded into one big one. Despite the fact that living in the DMV now meant that they saw at least someone in their family once a week, the idea of having everyone under the same roof was still thrilling nonetheless.

Life had a funny way of working out. The plan had been set in motion since Azzi had been drafted to DC and although Paige had been tempted to stay in Minnesota -after all being the hometown hero picked with the no.1 pick had served her and the. team well for her first four rookie years, considering she’d helped them return to their former championship glory- they had ultimately decided that with most of their family in the DMV area, it made more sense for Paige to ask for a trade to DC than it did for Azzi to move to Minnesota. It hadn’t been the smoothest transition -they’d had their fair share of fights while making the decision and then adjusting to it- but they’d figure it out. They always did. Because as good as Paige and Azzi were at fighting with each other, they were even better at fighting for each other.

Quickly going through the to-do-list in her brain, Azzi nods to herself as she silently checks off everything. She does a quick glance of her room, making sure that they’re not leaving anything they’d need, before reaching to grab her phone, just to text her parents that they were on their own way. Instead her eyes catch on an email notification, her heart beating erratically when she reads the name of the sender.

Fingers fidgeting with the heart necklace Paige had gotten her years ago, Azzi slowly clicks on the notification as anticipation burns throughout her whole body. She tries to steady her breathing as she scans through it, reading each line carefully and she almost drops her phone, large hot tears dripping down her cheeks as she reaches the end of it. Her chest feels heavy with an unknown feeling and she knows she needs to get to Paige, but her feet are rooted to their spot.

“Baby,” she hears her wife call out, followed by the sound of Paige’s footsteps climbing up the stairs, “you ready yet? The car’s already- oh my god baby what’s wrong?”

Azzi looks up from her phone to find Paige standing in the doorway. Concern floods the older woman’s sharp features as she rushes over to her, hands running all over Azzi’s body as she tries to figure out what’s wrong.

“Az? Baby? What’s going on? What happened,” Paige asks urgently, “baby please you’re scaring me. What’s wrong,” her eyes drop to the phone in Azzi’s hands as her voice gets desperate, “did someone say something? Do I need to go kill somebody? Fuck baby please don’t cry. Tell me what’s wrong? I swear I’ll fix it but you gotta tell me baby. Please.”

Wordlessly, Azzi hands over her phone. Paige’s expression is confused and apprehensive -maybe even a little preemptively angry- as she takes the device from her wife’s hand. Azzi watches as recognition dawn of the blonde’s face when she spots the familiar e-mail address; watches as her wife goes through the same emotions she had reading through the email. When Paige finally looks back at her, her own eyes are brimming with tears.

“Baby,” she says breathlessly, “this- I- we-,” she chokes back a sob, her voice so quiet in comparison to the loud enigma that is Paige Bueckers-Fudd, “we’re gonna be Moms?”

Azzi nods, tears continuing to spill down her cheeks as she finally manages to open her mouth, “yeah- yeah we are. Paige, we’re gonna have a baby. No two,” she corrects herself, remembering the exact words of the e-mail, “we’re gonna have two babies. Twins.”

And it’s unclear who moves first -it doesn’t really matter- but then they’re in each other’s arms, trying to hold each other as tightly as physically possible as their tears and smiles begin to blend into one. It had been a couple of months since they’d started the adoption process and they’d gone through every stage, slightly scared that something would go wrong. But they’d passed every background and family and personality check rather easily and it was this last part, the wait to hear about a child -well children- that needed them that had been the hardest of it. And now here it was, the last brushstroke that would complete the picture they’d started painting when they were fifteen. Two babies that would complete them.

“You’re gonna be such a good Mom,” Paige mutters against Azzi’s hair, “god Azzi, baby I can’t wait to see you with our babies -fuck- our babies. Fuck baby I don’t know what you got me but I’m afraid it’s gonna have to be second best Christmas present I’m getting this year.

Azzi laughs breathlessly, her face still buried in Paige’s neck, “think it’s gonna be the best Christmas present ever,” she slowly lifts her head so she can brush away the tears from under her wife’s eyes, “I love you. I wouldn’t wanna do this with anyone but you.”

Paige presses her lips against Azzi’s forehead, “me too baby. I love you so fucking much. You, me and our babies. It’s all I’m ever gonna want, all I’m ever gonna need.”

5. All I want (for Christmas is you)

There’s a lot going on in her house right now -the chatter of family and friends mingling with the sounds of Christmas Carols blaring from the speakers, the mixed aroma of a well-cooked meal and freshly baked desserts, the twinkly lights strung all around the house blinking in different colors- but Paige’s entire attention is across the room where both of her two children are hanging off of her wife like baubles on a Christmas tree. Miles is situated on her lap, his head buried in his favorite place, between Azzi’s neck and shoulder. Sienna, always slightly more independent, has one hand wrapped around her mother’s ankle while she sits on the floor, her focus squarely on a princess coloring book. It’s a sight that will never stop making Paige’s heart swell with pride and happiness, her wife with their kids.

Slowly excusing herself from the conversation she’d been having with a relative, Paige makes her way over to her family -to her whole world- with a soft smile on her face. She sits down next to her wife, placing a kiss to her temple that makes Azzi smile, before pressing one to her son’s forehead over the younger woman’s shoulder, before finally picking her daughter off the floor onto her lap and giving Sienna a kiss on her cheek.

“Hi family,” she whispers and she thinks that if she could choose to have one picture ingrained in her mind forever, it would be a picture of the three smiles she gets in return. Miles’s is sleepy yet so sincere, Sienna’s is toothy and wide and Azzi’s- we’ll Azzi’s is exactly like it’s been since they were fifteen. It’s her Paige smile, one that is bright and beautiful and magnificent and filled with the promise of i’ll love you forever.

“Mama look,” Sienna coos, shoving her picture in front of Paige’s face, “I color a p-incess.”

“It’s beautiful Si-Si,” Paige says warmly, “I think it should probably go on the fridge once everybody’s gone home yeah?”

Azzi snorts, her voice dropping so only her wife can hear, “baby, I don’t think there’s any more space left on the fridge considering you’ve been putting up every single thing they’ve ever colored or made.”

“I’ll make space,” Paige says haughtily, “everything they make is fridge-worthy.”

Azzi shakes her head fondly but Paige knows that despite her words, she’ll be right there by her side tonight to help her make space on their rather cluttered fridge so that they could hang Sienna’s new masterpiece somewhere on it.

“Mi’s close to falling asleep,” Azzi gestures to the little boy in her arms who’s clearly struggling to keep his eyes open, “I think we should probably let them open their Christmas Eve presents now.”

Despite Azzi trying to keep her tone to a whisper, Sienna’s ears perk up at the word “present” and she turns on Paige’s lap to face her Moms with large, hopeful eyes, “it’s pwesent time?”

“Yeah sweetheart. It's present time, but only one okay?” Paige taps Sienna’s nose gently, laughing when the little girl nods diligently and then squeals with excitement, rushing off of her mother’s lap so she can tell anyone within earshot that it’s time to open presents.

“I was gonna tell you to get everybody but I think she’s got it. She’s got your vocal chords for sure,” Azzi nudges Paige’s shoulder teasingly before coaxing Miles’ head out her neck, “you ready to open a present Mi?”

Miles yawns and Paige can’t help but coo at how cute he looks as he stretches in his mother’s arms. It fascinates her, how despite being twins, Miles and Sienna sometimes feel like they’re years apart. And she knows they're only 3 years old, and she knows that they’ll both change over time but Paige thinks that the difference in their personalities makes them fit together even more beautifully. Sienna had a protective streak, always ready to shield her demure brother and Miles had a knack from calming Sienna down, always ready to comfort his boisterous sister.

“MI,” Sienna yells as she tugs on her twin brother’s arm, having somehow already gathered their family into the living room, “wake up Mi. Time to open a Ch-istmas Eve pwesent.”

“I coming Si-Si,” Miles says softly as he finally waddles off of Azzi’s lap, tiredly rubbing his eyes as he follows his sister towards the barrage of Christmas presents underneath the tree. Their mothers scooch off of the couch to stand closer to the tree, Paige wrapping her arms around Azzi from behind as she hooks her chin over her wife’s shoulder.

“Alright Si-Si,” Tim says, his eyes twinkling as he looks down at his granddaughter, “remember, you should always pick the biggest present to open on Christmas Eve!”

Sienna’s eyes widen as she takes in her grandfather’s words before her gaze drifts towards the presents, scouting for the biggest one of them all. Paige drinks in the joy on her daughter’s face when she finally spots a large box that might just be taller than she is.

“That one!” Sienna says gleefully as she practically climbs over the rest of the gifts to get to her chosen one.

“Careful sweetheart,” Azzi calls out, her voice laced with hints of worry as she watches her daughter try to pick up the present that’s clearly heavier than she is.

“Uncle Drew,” Sienna croaks out, turning to Paige’s brother as she realizes just how big the present she’d chosen is, “help me pease!”

Drew laughs, wading through the sea of presents to get to his niece as he sedulously sits down to help her unwrap the gift. Paige tightens her grip around Azzi in anticipation as she watches for her daughter’s reaction. The twins are old enough this year to really understand their gifts and even though Paige is sure she knows them well enough -they’re her babies for fuck’s sake- to have gotten them present they’d love, she’s still a little scared they wouldn’t.

“Relax baby,” Azzi leans her head back to whisper into the blonde’s ear, having noticed the way Paige is fidgeting with the sleeve of the brunette’s sweater, “she’s gonna love it. She’s our daughter. We know her.”

Paige presses a delicate kiss against the back of her wife’s neck, “you always say the right thing.”

“Because I know you,” Azzi says softly, eyes crinkling in the corner as she smiles at Paige.

They’re broken out of their reverie by their daughter screaming in excitement as she finally uncovers her present -a barbie basketball court-, and just like Azzi had predicted she would, she says, “I love it, I love it, I love it. Thank you Mama, thank you Mommy!”

Paige and Azzi laugh, opening their arms in tandem for Sienna to rush into, “we’re glad you like it Si-Si.”

“I love it,” Sienna corrects as she gives each of them a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“My turn now?” a meek voice cuts in and everyone's eyes fall onto Miles, who cowers slightly at having everyone’s attention.

“Yeah it is,” Paige grins at her son, tickling him lightly in the stomach before pushing him towards the presents, “pick whichever one you want to open Mi.”

Miles chews at his bottom lip, cautiously observing the huge pile of presents before turning to his Mothers’ with a way expression and Paige has to hide her grin, knowing exactly what he’s about to ask.

“Too many,” Miles says, bouncing nervously on his tiny little feet, “you help me pick pease Mama.”

Paige laughs as she gathers the little boy in her arms but not before she’s whispering in Azzi’s ear, “think he might be more indecisive than you baby,” which earns her a slight elbow to the stomach before she nods at her son, “of course I’ll help you pick sweetheart.”

She pretends to make a big show of searching for the right present, observing her son’s facial expression before she sees his eyes light up a little when she grabs a medium-sized blue one.

“Aha!” Paige yells triumphantly, causing all the adults in the room to snicker at her antiques, “think you should open this one Mi.”

Miles grins as he makes grabby hands towards the present in his mother’s hand. It takes him approximately four and a half seconds to rip off all the wrapping paper and his eyes marvel at the gift in his hands.

“Teddy,” Miles says in awe as he clutches the cuddly stuffed toy to his chest.

“Yeah it is baby,” Azzi nods as she kneels down next to the little boy, “here,” she points towards the blue heart on his chest, “how about you squeeze it?”

Miles does as he is told, squeezing the teddy-bear’s heart as tightly as he can and it starts to glow. Paige and Azzi’s voices ring out through the room, singing -slightly off-key- Miles’s favorite lullaby. The little boy’s eyes widen when he realizes the sound isn’t coming from his Mothers', both of whom have their mouths closed, but from the teddy-bear’s heart.

“Now, whenever you’re scared at night in your big boy bed, you can just squeeze teddy and it’ll be like Mommy and Mama are already there with you,” Azzi says softly as she brushes her hands through her son’s hair, “you like it Mi?”

“I’m gonna call it MoMa,” Miles says in lieu of an answer as he beams up at Paige and Azzi, “like Mommy and Mama but MoMa.”

Paige laughs, her eyes suddenly starting to feel a little wet, as she wraps an arm around Azzi’s waist, watching her children fawn over the presents they’d just opened. There’s plenty more left and she’s excited to watch their reaction to opening the others but the first ones are always just a little more special. And whether it was giving Sienna a basketball court, or giving Miles a version of their voices, through these gifts they’d tried to give their children a part of themselves.

“Hey,” Azzi snaps Paige out of her trance, her hand reaching down to intertwine with Paige’s as she begins to pull her away from their family, “come with me for a second.”

“Azzi Fudd,” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her chest, smirking as she follows her wife upstairs, “are you sneaking me into our bedroom to have a quickie? While our family and our children are right downstairs?”

Azzi turns to her with a cheeky grin as they enter their bedroom, tracing a finger down Paige’s arm, “would you object if I was?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not. Let’s do it,” Paige waggles her eyebrows, pulling Azzi into her chest but the younger woman immediately shrugs herself out of it as she goes into their closet instead, “oh okay then, leave me high and dry on fucking Christmas Eve.”

“Shut up,” Azzi chides, still rummaging through drawers before she finally emerges from the mahogany doors with a small silver box, walking back to Paige with a small smile on her face, “I figured you should get to open a present tonight too.”

“Well the present I was hoping to unwrap was you-” her joke is cut off by Azzi laughing.

“Baby please, you are way too old to be saying that shit.”

“Hey,” Paige says with mock offense, “first of all, I’m not that old and second of all, you’re never too old to be flirting with your wife.”

“First of all, it’s okay that you’re old baby, I like them a little older,” Azzi smirks, “and second of all, you are if the flirting's that corny and third of all,” she gives Paige a pointed look when the other woman open her mouth to counter, “shut up and open your present.”

“Still so bossy aren’t you princess?” Paige shakes her head but she does as she told, delicately removing the lid from the box and gasping when she sees the necklace inside, “baby, it’s beautiful.”

The necklace is similar to the engagement ring she’d gotten for Azzi, not the one from the fair all those years ago, but the real one. It’s a simple enough chain with a heart shaped diamond-encrusted locket, except on either side of the heart, the chain is looped into two infinity symbols.

“Open it,” Azzi says softly.

“What?” Paige asks, still staring dazedly at the dainty jewelry in her hands.

“The heart,” Azzi points to the locket, “it opens.”

Paige does as she’s told, delicately using her nails to pull apart the locket and a fresh set of tears brim in her eyes when she sees what’s inside. On one side of the heart is a picture of Miles and Sienna, the twins grinning at the camera and Paige remembers the exact moment she’d taken it. On the other side, is a picture of Paige and Azzi; specifically a picture of their kiss at their wedding.

“Baby,” Paige says again, uncannily lost for words.

“You’re really fucking hard to shop for you know that?” Azzi says slowly, her own eyes glistening with moisture “like what do you even get someone who basically has everything because you know- like you always say- we’re your everything -all you could ever want is me, Miles and Sienna- and we’re already yours, just like you’re already ours. And so I figured I’d just give you a reminder of it, something you can always keep with you so you always know.”

“It’s perfect,” Paige breathes out as she holds the locker out towards Azzi, “put it on me?”

Azzi grins as Paige turns around and the blonde watches through the mirror as the chain is placed carefully around her neck and her wife firmly clasps it together before placing a soft kiss to the back of her neck.

“I love you,” Azzi whispers when Paige turns back around, “for eternity.”

“I love you,” Paige whispers back, pulling her wife flush against her chest, the locket with her world hanging between them, “to eternity and beyond.”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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madamechrissy · 3 months ago

Text

Silent Serenades

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

♔ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x you - in this chap it's Satoru Gojo x random girl, Nanami x you It's messy and will get messier.

♔ Warnings: Sex, infidelity, mentions of disordered eating of the reader, descriptions of reader physically (just ties in with the story here) cheating on both ends, cruelty from Duke Gojo, cunnilingus, fingering, first time blow jobs, toxic attraction. OOC. ANGST. SO MUCH TENSION. More Mr. Nanami. Gojo is TERRIBLE still, you're warned

♔ Word count this chap: 10k

♔ Summary: you are the diamond of the season, he is the charming Duke, it’s the marriage of the decade. Prominent families joining, and it so happens that Duke Gojo is gorgeous. But, he doesn't want you, and now you're trapped in a loveless arranged marriage. Royal AU, dark bridgerton vibes, Cruel Gojo x reader. OOC Set in 1800s England. Gojo is awful at first, HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you

A/N: Half Gojo's POV, Half yours. LONG ONE

Part Four - Masterlist - Playlist

Part Five: The Masquerade

Your POV

It’s the night of the Gojo manor masquerade, it’s so odd to think this is where you’d met Mr. Nanami years ago, in this cold man’s manor, long before you two were betrothed. Sometimes you wish you had just ran off with Mr. Nanami that night, but it was a foolish little idea, wasn’t it? How could you have happiness like that, when this is where you live.

After that night you’ve completely avoided the Duke, he has not just disgusted you, you’ve disgusted yourself with your reaction. You’d laid there for hours that night, and at some point Gojo had come into your room, you had acted asleep, of course so as not to face him.

It was late in the night, long past those disgusting noises you had to hear of Gojo and his Mistress, so you assumed they were asleep. You were just able to breathe finally, just able to exist a bit without feeling that tightness in your chest. Then he was there, you struggle to stay still as you hear your door open, hear it creaking gently in the night.

You could hear his footsteps in the night, bare feet padding along the old floors of the room, then he’d just stood there, like some creep, well he was, wasn’t he? A confusing, evil, cruel ass of a man. A man that had ripped your dress to shreds, and the worst part is you had been thrilled, you’d never felt more alive then when he’d consumed you.

You felt horrible, thinking of Nanami, someone you could see some future with, some happiness, his tired eyes and smirk on those lips. The way you felt so fucking safe in his arms. Not stupid Gojo, not the damned Duke who absolutely ruined your life, that wrecked your psyche. As confident and strong as you act, the Duke had single handedly destroyed so much.

Now he back tracks his words, shouldn’t have said this, shouldn’t have said that, but it’s poor, sad excuses. You cannot allow yourself to fall victim to him again.

He is leaning over you now, and your eyelashes flutter just a bit when he pulls your blanket up over your body, up on your shoulders, before you hear him sigh just a bit, brushing the backs of his fingers on your cheek. You want to smack him, you want to jump up, but then he’d know you were pretending, so you just lay there, exhaling and trying to keep still.

After a moment he’s gone, just like he was never there, leaving your cheek burning from the odd touch, and your mind more confused at this man. What even was his problem, why would he come here after fucking his whore, why would he watch you as you sleep!? The man who hates you so.

You shake off that weird night, and you had not said a word to him all day, even going so far as to eat breakfast in complete silence. He had just looked at you every so often, and you’d peeked back, raising a brow, expecting some nasty remark or comment, but he’d not said a single word. You’re not sure it’s much better than his cruelty, this weird silence.

You stand before the mirror in your room, your heart racing as your maid and Nan dress you in the gown of a glittery silver, the fabric shimmering like stars. It’s so very beautiful. Mei and Utahime absolutely did impeccably. It fits you so perfectly, cinched in with beautiful jewels along the bodice, it’s surely the finest thing you have ever worn or even seen.

“My, you’re a vision, your grace!” The maid says, and you smile at her, feeling yourself flush under the praise.

“Indeed, you’ll be the belle of the ball. Like a Princess.” Nan says then, and you twirl a bit, watching the light catching the flouncing skirts.

“You two are most kind. I do feel most lovely in this.” You admit, as you look at your reflection in the gilded mirror. Your hair is piled high on your head, adorned with a diamond tiara that sparkles brightly. You look like a princess, like a vision from a fairytale that’s come to life, and for a moment, you let yourself believe in the illusion.

Your mask is a thing of beauty as Nan ties it around your face, a delicate little creation of lace and velvet that covers the top half of your face, leaving only your eyes and lips exposed. You feel so mysterious with it, as if you could be anyone you want, and who would you want to be?

It feels as if you lose yourself more and more here.

You glide down the grand staircase now, the silk of your gown whispering against the marble as you descend into the masquerade ball, the violinists and cellists making the most beautiful melodies, mingling with the cacophony of laughter and conversation. As you step down further, the room is full of ladies in white, and gentlemen in black, dancing and mingling in pretty patterns.

Your heart is beating out of your chest as you step down, curious if Mr. Nanami may make an appearance, curious if your ‘husband’ would pretend to be kind or not. His mother is here, along with your parents. As you enter the ballroom at the last step, your lace gloved hand on the bannister, heads turn and eyes follow your every movement, until they’re all looking at you.

Well everyone but one person, Satoru Gojo, he’s laughing with those bright white teeth, in his white suit, different from every other man in black, along with a dark blue cape and dark blue mask, covering half his face. You can feel the air change, as they’re looking at you, and everything quiets. There are whispers then, as you nervously stand there, alone and in the center of attention.

‘The Duchess!’

‘She looks like a Princess!’

‘Beautiful!’

‘Breathtaking, look at that gown…’

You smile at them, as they look to you in awe, the many masked women and men, amongst a sea of butlers, waitresses and performers, no one moves a muscle. You see the familiar figure of Lord Geto and Lady Shoko, waving at you, and you look further, until you see his strong figure, in a suit that’s fit to him like a glove, those hazel lazy eyes twinkling.

You smile shyly as you see his lips part in shock, and you then watch everyone stare at Duke Gojo, someone tapping his shoulder then, and he looks to where you’re standing now, amongst the whispers. You expect the same coldness in his gaze as usual, but when his eyes land on you, something in them flickers.

For a moment, he’s stunned, his hand frozen mid-gesture, as they fall slowly, and he slowly walks toward you, as you now nervously fiddle with your own gloves, in front of your lap. You know he’ll try to ruin your confidence, even in this moment where hundreds of people are staring at your gown, your tiara, your beauty, but you know the damage the Duke can do.

He’ll show them what they need, he’ll pretend to hold your hand and smile as if you’re both great, but the coldness he emits will freeze you. He steps up one step now, holding his hand out now, eyes glimmering a shocking blue as he looks every inch of you over, making you nervous. Is he looking for some lack of perfection? Is he looking for something to mock?

“Duchess.” He says hoarsely, clearing his throat, and you hesitantly put your hand in his, gasping a bit when he pulls you towards him, your glittering heels stepping onto the floor below.

“Duke.” You respond, curtseying then, and Duke Gojo bows at the waist, then his lips part, then close. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he leads you to the dance floor now, and the people gush over the two of you.

If only they knew, the real man, that looks so charming and fun, that’s so elegantly holding you at your waist with one hand, the other up, and you put your little one in his, which swallows yours. You suck in a breath as Gojo just stares at you then, as the music starts once more, and everyone’s gaze is on you both.

He begins to lead you into a waltz, elegant in his steps, your heels and his dress shoes clicking and echoing on the floor, as the music softly crescendos, and you’re spinning, in a dance with your fake husband. You keep your eyes affixed to his elegantly tied cravat as your body gets dizzy, as you brace for the blow.

He says your name, and you tense, looking up then. “I hope I am adequate looking tonight, Duke.” You murmur, and he turns you, before pulling you against him, dipping you over his arm, then slowly back up.

“You know what you look like, you had everyone in the room with their mouths open, what do you need a compliment from me?” He says then, through his terse lips, and you scoff, rolling your eyes behind your mask.

“I do not expect one, I expected you to say passable or the like.” You retort, and he laughs, his grip on your waist tightening and making you wince a bit, as his gaze burns you.

“You look… you look…” He sighs then, spinning you once more, and now your back is against him, his hand on your tummy, as one of his hands slides down your cheek, your neck, before spinning you back, your leg over his now. He grips your leg over your skirts, bending you low again, and your breaths come in quick pants.

“Not passable? Oh dear. I’m so sorry, husband.” You whisper, right against his lips, then you smirk at his glare. “I’m sure someone here will call me beautiful.”

Satoru’s grip gets tighter, as everyone starts dancing around you now, and the room is lively again. You see your parents by the buffet with Satoru’s mother and stepdad, watching you all curiously, then when you’re facing Satoru again, his eyes are lidded, snowy white lashes lowered over them. His hand is trembling slightly as it holds onto you.

“Is your lover here?” He demands, and you smile softly.

“How many of your lovers are here?” You counter, earning a scoff.

“Tch, insolent brat.” You scowl.

“Man whore.” He grits his teeth.

“You’re just a whore, then.” Your own eyes narrow as you spin once more, away from him, and he watches you with his fists clenched, as your gown glitters from the chandeliers above, bouncing light all over. You bow down, as does he, then your hands join once more.

“Can’t wait for this dance to end.” You say, and he’s sighing, a hand slipping up your back and making you tremble. “I know you also wish it was done.”

“You think you know me at all?” His voice is softer now, and your eyes lock, as you feel it, something just different now.

“You hate me, so I imagine having me in your arms is quite the task.” He brings you up then, off the ground spinning you, and you hate how you actually enjoy it. “Careful, don’t hurt-”

“You weigh nothing, stupid fucking girl. Less than nothing as you continue to ignore your meals in front of me.” His hiss is dark, and you sigh, looking away.

You realize you’re dragging out that comment, and for once you decide perhaps you should stop, Gojo has not said anything else about it since and you’re making it an ongoing issue, one that’s affecting you severely now. You let your anger consume you. “Very well, I will stop such comments, I am being…”

“You’re fucking beautiful, the most beautiful thing here.” You step back, nearly falling as your mouth opens wide in shock.

“You can’t just say that, it’s not what you think! You’re such a manipulative, confusing ass of a man.” You stomp on his foot then, and he snarls at you, hopping on a leg.

“You stomp my foot for a bloody compliment? Stupid fucking brat.”

“Yes well it’s false, I like you better when you’re honest.”

“Honest!?”

“Indeed, when you tell me how much I disgust you.” His grip is so brutal you feel it through your layers, as it digs in. “What’s wrong Duke?”

“You know how beautiful you are.” He whispers those words, and they feel foreign from his cold lips, and now the song is changing, but he’s just standing there, holding you for a moment. “Do not play stupid.”

“You ever think you’ve knocked down my thoughts of myself!?” You hiss out the words then, and he looks down, backing away and dropping his hands as if you are a fire that burns him.

“As if you’ll take a compliment from me.”

“Because it’s a lie.”

“It’s not!”

“Hello, love birds.” Comes Satoru’s mother then, elegant in her gown, with her stark white hair flowing down in waves, smiling at you both now. “You’re the prettiest lady I’ve seen, why you rival Her Majesty’s style.”

“Oh thank you, Mama.” You say then, kissing her cheeks, and Satoru is still fuming, fucking glaring at you.

“Satoru. How have you been treating your wife?” She asks then, and Satoru scoffs, opening his mouth, but you cut him off.

“He’s been so kind, Mama, truly.” You say, and Duke Gojo scowls at you now, earning his mother’s confusion. People all around are going to get refreshments, talking and mingling. Satoru’s mother has a confused purse to her lips.

“I’ve heard things, from servants and friends alike. That you two share no room together. That Satoru has live in Mistresses? Plural. This isn’t true, is it?” She demands, and Satoru says nothing, he’s still looking at you with disbelief in his eyes, forcing you to clear your throat, smiling brightly.

“You cannot trust gossip, Mama. Oh, hello Mother, Father!” Your parents come over then, and you hug them both politely, you and your parents had a decent relationship, but not too close. They were very about appearances, and trained you to be as well, it’s partly why you hide emotions so well.

There are no warm smiles, but polite ones, they had never been cruel, just they had not spent much time with you growing up. You were raised by governess, Nannies, and the like. You suppose it’s the way of nobility, but you know if you ever had children it would be very, very different.

“I was just asking how the marriage was, you said it’s going well, Duchess?” Satoru’s Mom asks again, and you nod, grabbing Satoru’s hand, and it’s stiff and unyielding, even when you give him a look behind your mask, he’s still staring at you, not saying a goddamn thing.

“It’s going well, isn’t it dear husband?” You ask, earning his lips parting, then closing, as he sighs. Then his hand enwraps yours, and for a moment you enjoy it, huge, enwrapping your little hand, entwining his fingers with yours. You suck in a breath at how good it feels, and how much you hate it.

Duke Gojo’s POV

Satoru is holding your delicate little hand in his, and it feels so good he can’t stand it, he can’t take it, how good you smell, how good your skin feels, how breathtaking you are. You’re a vision in this silver, glittery gown, you stand out in this sea of people, a diamond doesn’t even begin to describe you. As he danced he’d seen every set of eyes on you.

Even his mother loves you, everyone does, don’t they? And how can they not, when you smile brightly, those tempting lips hiding your true feelings. You look up at him then, with that lacy mask on your perfect face, only making you sexier, making him fill with want he has to shove down. Your glittery eyes, filled with tears just the other day, look right into his fucking soul.

He squeezes your hand back, watching your breasts heave in your dress, pressed up and delectable in that corset, fuck your body was so beautiful, Satoru couldn’t help but picture you when he fucks his mistress now. Now that he’s tasted you!? He wishes he could every day, fuck he wants to worship you on his goddamn knees.

But he can’t, can he?

Why are you lying for him, after what he’s done, what he’s said!? Saying you’re a pig, when you’re the complete opposite, making you not even eat in front of him. It breaks him, his cruelty and its effects, watching you slimmer and slimmer because he was evil and lied. Even if you’ve forgiven him, how will he forgive himself?

How can he forgive himself for your panic attack when he said the cruelest things, or the wedding night when he smacked your precious face, leaving a huge red hand print? You should hate him, fuck you should hate him more. That was his goal, for you to hate him, and he succeeded. To protect himself, because you look so much like her, so much…

So much like the love of his life that destroyed him. Fuck if you two weren’t related, she was all he could see when he first saw you, at that masquerade years ago, you were young. That night she had destroyed him, that night she had slept right with Satoru’s own father, and fuck if Satoru wasn’t glad that man was dead. She’d had no shame either.

As soon as Satoru became Duke, he sent her far away, and then who’s there but you and you’re the spitting image damn near. You were softer, prettier, not nearly as practiced and seductive, but seeing you had made him sick. Then your confidence and poise made you even more similar to her, she had Satoru ready to destroy the world for her.

He’d spent his entire money on her, he’d given her everything, only to have found her one day with his father, because his father had more money. Satoru had never forgiven him, even on his fucking death bed, and he let his dad know then that he will never give him an heir. That disgusting man had died in horror, and Satoru had just fucking grinned.

But fuck if you’re not more beautiful, and she was a gorgeous girl, but your energy, everything about you makes it worse. Now he knows you have some lover, and it brings it all back, he imagines you riding someone, he imagines you as the one who did that to him, that made him cold. Because of her Satoru closed himself off, drowned himself in alcohol, gambling and whores.

And he was living that life just fine until you.

Now, however, as he sees the dulling of your brightness, he knows what he’s done is so fucking wrong, but he’s too far gone in this, and now you’re rightfully gone. You moved on so quickly, to someone who surely worships you, and Satoru thinks maybe that’s for the best, no chance of you two ever being together, in any way, shape or form.

But when he’d kissed you?

Satoru had never felt anything like it, not when he kissed who he thought he ‘loved’ and Satoru had never tasted anything like your honeyed arousal on his tongue. As a man who gets sucked, who fucks rough, all he can think is having you gush down his mouth, down his tongue, he things of it as he strokes himself after his Mistress failed to make him cum.

He’d snuck in your room and watched you, with tears irritating his blue eyes, as you looked so tiny, so fragile, shivering in the cold. Having to listen to him, having to see him, he’s cruel, he’s terrible. You did nothing to deserve it. And you’re so fucking strong, so composed, so determined, you thrive even as he tried to shoot you down. He can’t even understand you.

It’s too late, isn’t it… and even if not, could Satoru not hate you, when you remind him so much of everything he hates? Could he ever even express an emotion, could he even compliment you, no you think they’re fake, and he understands. Even on your wedding night, looking so beautiful it made him ache, he’d lied, and you’d so easily believed that lie.

Why would you lie for him?

Take the opportunity, let his mother reprimand him, let him be made a fool of, he deserves the worst. Perhaps the worst is just beginning for him, now that he knows you have someone that makes you so happy. Your marks on those lush breasts, your slick wet cunt he knows someone licked, touched before him, it makes him furious, so furious, but he can do nothing.

“Indeed, we are doing well.” Satoru says softly, and you both talk to your family about a dinner coming, before you smile prettily up at Satoru.

“Could we get refreshments? My throat is parched, husband.” You say, and he just nods, leading you to the table where there was punch, and he did not ever wanna let your hand go. But you pull it away, leaving him empty. “I’m sorry, I just needed to get away, you don’t have to get me a drink.”

“Why?” He demands then, fists clenching on either side of him. You blink a bit, before pouring your own drink, Satoru would never even afford you a kindness like that, fuck he treats you like shit, he loathes himself more every moment.

“No need to cause a scene. I figure it best we handle an annulment after some time, especially if you wish to keep my dowry. I know you’re rich, but we technically are even richer.” You sip some lemonade, sighing, and he watches a little droplet fall down, right to your chin. He delicately swipes it off, and watches your intake of breath, your eyes darting to his.

“Why do you care if I have your dowry?”

“I figure it’s why you want to stay married. This gives us both what we want, me my freedom, you the dowry, and you never have to look at me again.” Your words are like a punch to the gut, how cold and detached you sound.

“Freedom to marry?” Satoru asks softly, pouring his own drink with trembling hands, usually so sure, but you have this stupid effect.

“Possibly, one day.” You get a soft, dreamy smile, as the chandeliers reflect off your glowing, soft skin, your gorgeous gown. You look like a Princess, perhaps more beautiful than one, not that he’d say it. Not that you’d want it from his cruel lips. But he knows someone else here will say it, and will whisper it in your delicate little ear.

Fuck he hates himself.

He hates you.

“Married to some baker?” He says, and you giggle then, fuck you’re so bratty, how you’d bragged about your breasts, about cumming, you confused the living fuck out of him. Intrigued him. Filled him with need.

Fuck.

“Maybe, Duke.” You would never call him his name, would you? Well unless you were cooing to your stupid puppy. “I think we’ve made our presence known, we should be free to spend the evening apart.”

He blinks rapidly, as you smile a bit into the crowd, and go to leave, but he stops you with a hand on your little waist, stiff and jeweled in that corset, making you pause, looking up curiously. “You are off to see your lover, like a whore?”

You smile then, that mean little smile that is full of hatred. “I will absolutely see him tonight. When he compliments me, it’s sincere, you know. Not for show.”

“You’re stupid. You’re fucking stupid.” He whispers, earning your glare now, your hand shoving his chest, burning through his dress shirt, starch and stiff. He imagines actually touching you, making love to you, doing the things you would do without him, watching that pretty face cumming? Fuck.…

“Duke Gojo, go have fun yourself, be discreet for appearances please. It’s not like I care. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” You peel his hand off, and it drops, as he turns and watches you glide through the damn crowd, a sea of ladies and gentlemen, and all that stands out is you.

Your skirts swish as your perfect silhouette disappears, and everyone greets you, everyone signs your goddamn dance card, including Suguru, who he knows has it bad for you. Fuck Suguru would have been good for you, but you’re stuck with a man you don’t want, aren’t you?

You don’t want Satoru at all. You’re the only woman who hasn’t. But he pushed you there, and now he has to watch everyone fawn over his wife, a woman he’ll never have, who he didn’t want. A woman he hates, because not just how she looks, how she acts, but what she’s doing, making him feel things he swore he never would, and then when he sees you light up…

That smile brightens the giant ballroom, as you’re in a man’s arms during the next set, a tall blond man with broad shoulders, and he’s grinning along with you, his hand on the small of your back, as the other caresses your cheek for a second. Just a second but he saw it. He sees your blush even far away, how you giggle, how your head tilts to the side.

That’s him, isn’t it?

You will never look at Satoru like that, why would you anyway? What’s he done to make you smile, laugh, or have any joy, all he does and continues to do is treat you like dirt, worse than dirt, kick you down. And you blossom in this man’s arms, and Satoru’s picturing you with him, under him, and it makes him sick.

One of the lady’s he’d fucked a long time ago comes to him now, asking him to sign her dance card, and Satoru decides to throw himself into the dance, to flirt with her, to smirk. To whisper in the shell of her ear, making her shiver as his fingers brush her upper back. Women were games to him, soft and easy, aside from you.

He hates himself.

He hates how you confuse him.

He hates you.

Your POV

Shaking off the very odd interaction with the Duke, you are now dancing in Nanami Kento’s arms, and he has a surprising grace - well was it surprising? - the man exudes elegance. But as a businessman unaccustomed to such events, he is a perfect dancer, and you can’t help but giggle every time he looks at you, earning his soft chuckle as you both turn about the ballroom.

“Imagine seeing you here?” He says then, and you giggle once more.

“Imagine, Mr. Nanami. Meeting here.” You tease back.

“I missed you and it was only a day, sweet girl.” His voice is husky now, and your heart is thudding in your chest, as you melt into the dance, almost tripping over your normally sure feet. Your gloved hand in his clutches tightly, your other hand on his chest, where he wore the most handsome black suit.

“You surely make me a blushing mess.” You say softly, earning a glint in those hazel depths, his big hand tightening just a bit on your waist.

“I’m honored to have such an effect on the most beautiful lady I’ve seen.” You look down a bit, nearly tripping, and he catches you with ease, chuckling a bit. “You surely know you’re a vision tonight.”

“Thank you, Mr. Nanami. You also look quite dashing, you know Sir.” You say now, as he spins you gently, pulling your back against his chest, and then your eyes catch him.

The Duke.

His blue eyes are boring into you across the room, staring straight at you, to the point you can feel that gaze like a brand. He’s dancing with a lovely lady in a white dress and a white mask, and you watch his fingers slip up her back then, as he bends down to whisper in her ear. You blink a bit, taking a breath and then looking away, up at Nanami behind you.

“You are an even more skilled dancer than last time, Sir. Do you have a secret hobby, amongst the rest?” You ask then, teasingly, and Nanami scoffs a bit, spinning you back around, pulling you close for a moment before you both step back. He bows and you curtsey as the song ends.

“No hobby, darling. You give me too much credit.” He goes to touch your hand, then pulls back, realizing he can’t, and you watch his jaw tense, that Adam’s apple bob a bit. You frown.

“I’m sorry you cannot take my hand, Kento.” You whisper, looking away and clutching your layered gown tightly. “It’s selfish you see?”

“Darling, I’ll be fine. You’re not a bit selfish.” You look back to him, as you see his hands open and close at the sides, before they land in his trouser pockets, and your heart aches, your mind swirling in confusion.

As the music starts to die down later that night, and you’ve made several rounds with everyone, currently finishing a set with Lord Geto, you notice the Duke’s eyes on you again as he’s just laughing and leaning against a wall, and the girl is blatantly against him.

“He’s still being terrible, isn’t he? Fuck, any better at all?” You sigh, looking up at Lord Geto, who had danced twice with Lady Shoko, which put quite a smile on your face, but they seemed just friends for now. She had headed home and you two had danced a beautiful quadrille, dancing with Suguru was always so fun.

“He’s slightly better. I suppose. I told him we would annul the marriage in time, and he seemed… angry? It’s hard to understand him.”

“Mmm. I suppose. He’s never really acted this way, aside from a long time ago, he did have someone break his heart. I never met her though.”

“Duke Gojo had a heart?” Geto grins at that, and you both laugh a bit, as he leads you to get a drink, pouring one for you.

“I suppose he did. Here, love.” You take it thankfully, sighing as the cool condensation of the glass hits your lips.

“You’re a gem, Lord Geto.” You say, brushing his shoulder with your hand and smiling brightly.

“And you’re a diamond. Clearly, look at you, glittering everywhere.” You giggle softly, shaking your head.

“That’s sweat, probably, my Lord.” Geto rolls his chocolate eyes with a smirk, and then you pay attention, as the entire masquerade shifts.

People are kissing everywhere, as the music gets heavier, and much of the older ladies and gentlemen leave. This was around the time you had to leave as a young lady, but now you were in full view, as they now brought out several ladies, scandalously dressed and dancing. As the ballroom clears out slowly and others are sneaking into little alcoves.

“Oh… Is this…” You trail off nervously.

“This is how these tend to go. Horny ton members.” He teases, and then studies your features. “What do you think of such things, Duchess?”

“I’m not quite sure.” You see the dancers saunter by, one comes to you, brushing her pretty nails along your cheek, smiling at you, and making you flush. She then comes to Geto, a hand on his chest, dragging him by his tie. He looks at you, and you wave him off.

“I should stay with you.” He says, and you shake your head with laughter as the dancer pouts.

“You have fun, Lord Geto. Not too much though.” He snorts, finishing his drink and then kissing your hand.

“Find me if you need me, Duchess. Holy… you bend that way!?”

You turn away in a fit of laughter, as alcoholic drinks are now being served, and you can feel the tension in the air as you sip on bubbly champagne. The whispers of scandal and passion whirl in your ears as the music builds to a crescendo, the dancers in the middle of the ballroom now, for all to see, as people in their masks are hiding their identities, kissing in dark shadowy corners.

You see Nanami again, and you walk back over that way, passing Satoru kissing now in his own corner, and you watch his long fingers dance along her waist, and for just a moment you feel them like they’re touching you. His eyes are shut, his pretty face concentrated as her head lolls over to the side, and he’s kissing her neck, before they open, and catch you watching.

You pause, breaths coming in little pants as he pauses his kisses, his hands sliding down her slowly, as he watches you so intently, his eyes going down your body, drinking you inch by inch. You are just frozen, and why? Why do you care, he’s not yours, you don’t want him.

You don’t care.

You don’t.

When he’s grabbing at her ass blatantly, you do look away, walking by quickly, past more and more couples kissing, caressing, sighing. Is this what you missed as a young, unmarried lady, you wonder? Where there were hundreds and hundreds of people, there were about fifty left, and all quite busy.

You hear the rustle of silk and satin mixing with the low murmur of sultry whispers and cries, as you’re right in the middle of it, your heart racing with the thrill of it all, shocked by what you see. But Satoru’s image is burned in your brain, and you fucking hate it. You don’t want him. You don’t care.

He’s disgusting and cruel.

You shake off such an odd feeling, as the night reaches its peak, the music changes, the tempo slowing to a seductive crawl, and it almost gets hard to breath, as you walk over to Nanami now, and he smiles over a glass of neat whiskey, sitting down in one of the arm chairs. He pats his leg, and you look around nervously, slipping off your gloves and clutching them.

“I believe you can feel a bit more free tonight, Darling.” He says, and you nervously sit on one of his thighs, squealing as he pulls you against him, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“I fear I’ll still be under scrutiny.” You whisper, looking around, but you realize several people aren’t with their partners, some are with multiple partners even, two men kissing on one woman’s neck, two women on one man's lap. “I’m the only one wearing silver, Nanami.”

“Indeed you are.” He chuckles warmly, pulling you down softly, kissing your lips, and you exhale against them, how good it feels. “These events tend to be secret, as they do not wish their secrets shared.”

“You are rather familiar with these, Sir!”

“Mmm, I’ve been to some events with my business.”

“And what is it that you do?” You ask, leaning against him, your fingers brushing up and down his chest. You sip your champagne, and he takes the glass, setting it on the table along with his whiskey, pulling you closer, so close you feel how hot he is, how hard that body is.

“I tend to do a little of everything, up to and including baking cookies with a Duchess. I’m rather important.” You grin then, as your heart swells, as his hands touch you over your layers of gossamer and satin. One hand reaches down and runs up your calf, over your white stockings, and you sigh in pleasure.

“You are important to have such a baking partner, Sir.” His face is more serious now, though, behind that mask that you want to rip off, to see his handsome face, as his hand rests on your thigh, and you feel your core tense, heat building as he’s so, so close to where you’re currently getting wetter and wetter.

“Should I have such an angel on my lap?” He whispers, sliding even further, until he’s right where your lace pantalets sit, and he’s slipping his thumb down into that waistband, watching your every expression. You nervously cling to him, rolling your hips just a bit, and he exhales. “You’re so wet, darling, is this all for me?”

You hear it then, Nanami clearly wants you for himself, and you know that’s foolish for now, but you want to have that dream, of you and a man that wants you, that is so obsessed with you, and it makes your mind fuzzy as the champagne. You whimper when he finds your clit, rubbing in little circles, between damp folds, and you can barely form a word, clutching onto his shirt tightly.

“It is, Mr. Nanami…”

“Kento.”

“Kento. Mnh! Kento…” You whine out, as he��s rubbing you now with two fingers, flicking back and forth as he plays your cunt in public, right under your pretty ball gown, with your damn husband somewhere. It feels so wanton, so naughty, but so fucking good you’re dripping, craving more and more, gasping as he watches you, hungry eyes glinting in the dark.

“Mmm, so beautiful darling, that face when you feel so good? And it’s me making you feel that way?” He moans softly, the sound does things to you, and you find your lips against him now, pressing so deeply, wanting more, more, more of him, of his sure touch, of his sexy voice.

You gasp when he sinks a finger inside of you, right in this ballroom, and your walls are fluttering around it. “It is, Kento… it is.”

Duke Gojo’s POV

Satoru walks by, as he intends on being alone to rekindle the passionate encounters he and Lady Elaine used to have. She’s married to a rather old man who cannot take care of her needs, who is he not to assist? He’s grabbing a bottle of the finest wine, as he passes by to head up the stairs, then he stops in his tracks.

His heart drops to his stomach, his head pounding with the blood pressure that rises when he sees you, in your gorgeous fucking gown, on that man’s lap. Your slender arms are wrapped around his neck, one hand in his blond locks, and it’s like a stab in the chest, he stops right in his tracks, fuck he wants to grab you by your perfect little neck and yank you off him.

Satoru wants to bend you over something, beat your ass (fuck what does that look like!?) until you sob, pretty tears, then fuck you so good your tiara clatters to the goddamn floor. He wants to fuck you so good you can’t speak, can’t run that mouth, can’t do anything but drool. He wants to kill this man who dares to fucking touch you, wants to kill him right in front of you.

He feels the anger roll through him in waves, hot fury and something else… he’s hard under his trousers, straining against the stiff fabric as he watches your hips roll under those flouncy layers, as he watches your head fall back, and that man kiss your throat. Duke Gojo wants to do that, he wants to kiss you, touch you, so badly precum leaks against his pants.

But he can never have you.

You’re so out of reach, and he caused it all.

The man’s hand, bruised and cut and in no way a gentleman, grabs you so familiarly, the other mysteriously missing, but he watches your skirt rise and fall, then he knows. He’s fingering you wantonly, like you’re some whore, not a whole fucking Duchess, not his wife. He has no care of who sees you like it, and you clearly are enjoying, fuck he can damn near sense your desire.

He remembers it, how hot you got, how wet, only for a moment, glistening out of your perfect pussy, and he craves it so badly he can’t think, how good would it feel inside of you, to break you, to cum inside you? Something Satoru hadn’t done since her, along with licking a woman’s cunt, it’s not that he didn’t love it, it’s that it was too much to bear.

That overwhelming need to have cum spraying on his face again, and with you, who looks just fucking like her. Was he cursed, to not just repeat this vicious memory over and again, but worse, because he needs you more than her even. And he at least had her, for that time, constantly begging her, pleading with her, for affection, for her touches, for her looks.

Satoru was pathetic with her.

Now he’s more pathetic for you.

“Is everything all right, your grace?” Lady Elaine asks softly, and he notices her then, eager and ready to fuck clearly. But all he can think of is tasting you between your thighs, but you have another man’s hand there.

Fuck you, fuck this, fuck his thoughts.

“Nothing is wrong, let’s go, love.” He says softly, yes he calls her love, but he calls you Duchess, or bitch or something cold. Just as you call him Duke, or something colder.

He stomps by, passing you, and you pull your lips off the man long enough to look to him, fuck he’d been fondling Elaine right in front of you, shameless as you looked, with something in your gaze he couldn’t place. Not hurt truly, not even curiosity, what was that look you gave him, burned into his goddamn brain, as he takes her to his room.

Satoru has her naked in quick haste, she has a beautiful body, but for some goddamn reason he thinks of you, he can’t stop thinking of you, wishing he was the one fingering your eager cunt under your skirts. Why, why, why!? Why do you do this to him, you don’t want him, do you? How could you? How could you want him? If you did, it was physical, it was nothing else.

He’s not even good enough for you.

Is anyone good enough to look upon your pretty face, to taste your sweetness, to caress your soft skin? He imagines your eyes looking at him with desire, not with goddamn hatred, as he kisses Lady Elaine, as he slides his fingers into her cunt, which is soaking wet. He wishes it was tighter, like yours, he wishes he could feel it. Would he ever even get to touch you again?

Satoru flips Lady Elaine around, not being able to stand her face, pretty as it was, instead fingering her as she’s face forward against his wall. He’s listening to her moans, they should be sexy, shouldn’t they? Then why does he have to stroke himself, from the base to the tip of his huge cock, as he shuts his eyes and imagines rubbing that tip between your plump lips.

Why does that get him hard, not Lady Elaines’ rather lucious ass pressing out, her head thrown back, as Satoru’s mask brushes against the back of her neck. Why do you torture him existing? He told you, he wishes you didn’t exist, he remembers as he slides into her entrance, and she sucks him in greedily, and Satoru’s hands are on either side of her body as he fucks into her, braced on the cold door of his room.

Do you know you’re all he thinks of as he fucks her pussy?

Would you care?

Why should you?

Will you get fucked tonight, will you lose your innocence to him, to that man that you light up for? Does Satoru have any say in that, when he pushed you there? But the thought crushes him, as he rests his head down on her bare shoulder, as he fucks her against her cervix, and she’s screaming out, cumming all over him. All he thinks of is you.

All he thinks of is how he’s ruined everything.

All he thinks is how he’s a fucking idiot, for fucking this girl he cares nothing for, when he wants you, fuck he wants you. And it just gets worse every moment he breathes, and as he struggles to focus, rubbing her clit in circles, all he can do is imagine your pussy pulsing around him, your wetness down the ridges and veins of his cock, but you’re going to be that way with him that damn man.

Satoru ignores the tears pricking his blue eyes, fucking her harder and harder, chasing a feeling of anything other than you, other than you sitting on that goddamn man’s lap in your beautiful dress.

Your POV

You hate how you feel when you watch Satoru walk by, when you’d seen pain in his goddamn gaze, and for what!? It’s not as if he doesn’t have another woman he’s with, what’s this four in the short time you’ve had the unfortunate circumstance of being his ‘wife’. What did it matter you finally had some pleasure, with a man who cherishes you, who plays you so well.

You turn back to Nanami, eyes fluttering shut as he crooks his fingers up, and you’re so close you hold back, gasping, thighs tightening around his hand. “Mr. Nanami… somewhere private?”

“Of course, Darling. I got carried away.” He says softly, inhaling, pulling his hands out of you and helping you stand up. “It’s your home, Duchess. Where to?”

“My chambers, if you’re comfortable? Is it too… mad?” You ask softly, and he cups your face, bending down, his mask brushing right against yours as you both stand in the ballroom.

“Of course not, darling. You lead the way.” You take his hand, biting your lower lip nervously as you lead him through the corridors, up the winding staircases to where you must pass Satoru’s chambers to get to you own, hearing loud moans of a woman. You ignore whatever you feel, continuing to pull Nanami into your room, alone, shutting the door behind you.

You both stand there, breathless now, and your lips brush back against each other, the kiss is soft at first, tentative, then it deepens, growing more passionate and desperate with each passing second. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and you can feel the thump of his heart against your chest, echoing the rhythm of yours, his hands roaming your body.

Nanami Kento pulls back, sucking in a breath, and taking off your mask carefully, licking his glossy lips and exhaling. “You’re so beautiful, darling. I feel I’m having another dream, in my Duchess chambers.”

“Oh, Kento…” You take his mask off gently, heart racing as you feel heat washing through you, along with the alcohol spreading heat in your body.

“What does my darling want? I’m at your command.” Nanami’s handsome face looks down at you, and you take a shaky breath, sliding your hands up his strong shoulders.

“Your darling would like to see you. Please.” He steps back, and you’re eagerly helping him undress, taking off his suit jacket, then his vest and shirt, until he’s bare chested, and he’s gorgeous. You feel your tummy tighten as you look at him, so built like a statue of a god, muscles thick and sinewy under golden skin. “Oh my, Kento you’re so beautiful.”

“Me, Duchess? You.” He huskily says, pulling you against him, bending low and kissing you, as you feel his hands unlacing your corset deftly. You soon are just in your skirts, which he gently takes off with great care, leaving you in pantalets and a chemise. “Darlin, look at you.”

“I see you, Kento, I see you.” He blinks a bit, gulping audibly, before pressing you against the door of your own room, you feel the cold wood press against your back as he slips down to his knees, and you gasp as he pulls your pantalets down.

“And I see you, darling. So wet, so ready. Do you want to cum on my mouth again?” He asks, and you whimper then, nodding eagerly, clinging your hands to bare, hot shoulders.

“I want to make love, Nanami.”

“Darling…”

“You’ll make me wait? Not at my command?” You feel his chuckle against your inner thigh.

“I’ll let you go further tonight, but not just yet. Let me enjoy my time?” You nod then, embarrassed you’re so eager, as you look at his handsome face and he’s pushing your chemise, silky up your thighs, and pulling a thigh over his shoulder. “Good girl.”

Good girl!?

You can’t take it, as soon as his tongue slides up your slit, you’re screaming out, moaning so loud it’s ridiculous, you’re so ready you can’t stand it. And Nanami is staring up at you, pulling back and grinning. “Darling, your husband is next door.”

“Shit.”

“You cuss like a man.” He kisses your clit, and you struggle not to scream out again, but you fail.

“He doesn’t care.”

“Mmm, let’s be a little quiet, wild girl.” You nod then, and he’s drinking you up now, your wetness pouring into his hot mouth, and your eyes roll back, toes curling in those glittery heels you still have on, rolling your hips for more. Nanami eagerly licks and sucks your little clit into his mouth, and you struggle not to scream, but fuck it feels so good.

Duke Gojo’s POV

Are you moaning in there!?

He hears you, wanton little whore that you are, he wants to be the one that makes you cum, fuck he’d make you cum so good you’d forget whatever he has done, you’d know nothing. You wouldn’t speak, if he had time with you, you wouldn’t even make those little moans, you’d be screaming.

Satoru is still pumping in and out of Lady Elaine, on her hands and knees in his bed, he’d been going at it for some time, but now he’s furious. How dare you be moaning with another man, what are you doing, and would he ever get a fucking chance to try?

How could he when he’s still inside a woman.

He’s no better than you, no he’s worse.

The tragedy of listening to you and picturing you just makes him fuck her harder, as her moans grow loud in the room, do you hear in your chambers he wonders, do you even care? Do you care about anything but surely dripping out cum down another man’s mouth, or worse?

Fuck he hates his thoughts, why are they always of you!?

Your POV

You hear Satoru’s moans as you’re pressed against the door, as Nanami is working on you, but you shove them out of your mind, what do you care, Satoru is no matter, not when you’re cumming so good. Not when you’re shattering over Nanami’s handsome face, knees so weak he has to catch you so you don’t fall as you scr4eam out your climax.

“Kento!” You cry out loudly, and Kento moans softly, pulling back, standing and kissing you deeply, and you flip him then, pressing him against the door.

“Darling?”

“My turn.” You unbuckle his leather belt, and he’s breathing heavy, thick muscled chest rising up and down as you work him, as you push down his trousers, your eyes locking on his.

“Darling…”

“I know you won’t make love to me yet, but will you let me pleasure you? Please?” You ask softly, and his cheeks are flushed and his eyes dark with lust, and he nods a bit, making you smile softly.

“Wanton girl, you’ll end me.” You giggle softly, as his pants fall away, revealing his cock, it’s huge and thick, with a reddened tip that’s leaking something white and pearly on the tip, and you bite your lip at the sight, your pussy clenching with anticipation.

“Kento… you’re so…”

“You don’t have to-”

“No, no. It’s so big.” You say, blushing yourself, stroking him hesitantly, watching him suck in a breath, clinging to you.

“Fuck, let’s have you sit, I don’t want your knees hurt?” You think of that then, of Satoru’s mistress sucking him on her knees, and it fills you with something you hate. You lead him to the bed, and sit on it, looking up at him now, hands clutching your red silk blankets.

"Show me what to do, please?"

Kento nods, his hand reaching out to guide your head. “Open your mouth, darling.” He orders softly, and you obey, earning a moan. “I’m dreaming. Okay darling, lick and suck what you can, if it’s too much, tap my thigh. Yes?”

You nod eagerly, tongue out and ready, and soon he’s guiding his tip in, and you’re taking his length in, feeling the heat and the velvet of his skin on your tongue. He groans, a sound that goes straight to your core, making you want to do more, making you want to make him feel as good as he’s made you feel.

“Fuck… darling don’t go too deep.” You pull back a bit, suction popping as you let go for a moment.

“You taste good, Kento.”

Nanami moans, bending down to kiss you for a moment, cupping your face, hands rough. “Darling you’re so perfect, fuck. We can stop here.”

“No, please. Please.” He nods then, opening your mouth with two fingers, shoving his thick cock back in you.

“Play with yourself, darling.” You look up, eyes wide, pulling back again.

“Um…”

“Oh fuck… rub it like I rub you?” You nervously slide up your chemise, finding your clit and whining out, so sensitive it twitches. “That’s it, that’s my girl.”

He shoves his cock back in, and you take more of him in, looking up at him, seeing the desire and pleasure on his handsome face, his cheeks hollowing as he’s stroking your hair now, his eyes on yours as he watches you suck him off. It’s oddly intimate, it feels so good to pleasure him you’re wet again.

Is this what that girl did to Satoru?

You hear him, Satoru is moaning again.

Your tummy clenches as you ignore it, as you focus on sucking Nanami, and your finger circling your clit, struggling to take more. “Breathe through your nose, darling.”

You follow his instruction, and your eyes water as you suck, but you keep going, because you want to please him, you want to feel him come apart in your mouth, like he’s done to you. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, stroking as you suck, and he’s bucking into your mouth, his hips jerking, as he groans.

“Darling you’re so good at this, fuck. Fuck… darling, I’m close.”

You pull back, shaky. “Can I drink you, like you do me?”

“I’m dreaming, fuck maybe I’ve died.” You giggle then, a bit breathless, still rubbing your clit, as he pulls your hair, still clad with that tiara, heavy on your head, on your heart. “You can, but if you don’t enjoy it, please tell me.”

“I am sure I will.” He’s back in your mouth, and you’re rubbing faster, until you’re cumming from your own touch, and he’s groaning, fucking your mouth, but it’s different than you saw with Satoru, he’s gentle, he’s soft, he’s caring.

Satoru…

Fuck Satoru.

“I’m cumming, darling, ah- fuck…” Nanami groans then, pulling back a bit, then your mouth is filled with thick, salty liquid. You choke a bit at first, but suck it all down, feeling his tip quivering, and he’s groaning, his handsome face contorted in pleasure, stong hands shaking. “Darling… oh my god…”

“Was it good?” You ask after a moment, coughing a bit and swiping your lips, your answer is him on top of you, pressing you into the mattress, kissing you over and over, fingering you again, with two fingers. “Kento!”

“Good!? Good? No. Perfect.”

Perfect.

Hmm.

Why does this word hurt?

“Kento… Kento!” You’re whimpering and oversensitive, as he pumps his fingers, looking down into your eyes. “Please… inside me.”

“Not yet, but soon. I promise. I want you to be sure.” You sigh, shakily nodding, and he’s fingering you harder, scissoring in and out until you’re screaming out, as he’s kissing you, drinking your every cry, until you’ve soaked him. Soon he’s easing out, and his breaths are labored as he caresses your cheek. “Jesus, you’re too good for this Earth.”

“I’m not, I absolutely just sinned so many sins.” He laughs, his sexy little laugh, his handsome grin that fills you with warmth.

“Too angelic looking to be a real sinner.”

“Indeed, Sir!”

Soon you’re in your night shift, and Nanami is back dressed, and you’re seeing him out, kissing him over and over. “I’ll dream of you until we meet again.”

“As will I, Kento.” You say softly, and he is hugging you so tightly, as you walk out into the cold halls, and Kento bows to you, as he walks away, a distant shadowy figure. You take several breaths, tasting him still on your tongue, leaning your back against the hallway walls, struggling to come to.

You’re buzzed, you’d sucked a man, you’d wanted to go even further… what were you doing?

Was it the right thing?

You enjoyed it so much, but something gnaws at you, as the door to Satoru’s room opens, and he steps out, sweaty and shirtless. You stand there, still, as his eyes meet yours in the night. You both just stand there, staring at each other, and you expect him to call you a whore, to say his nasty fucking words. But he doesn’t, he walks to you, he presses you into that wall, leaning over you.

You just look up at him, eyes wide, and his blue eyes torturously analyze you, emotions making them glossy, as he then punches that wall next to you, chest shaking as he lets out a shaky breath. And you touch his bare chest, nails digging in, as you stare up at him, tears pricking your eyes, as you know what he’s done, and what you have done.

Both of you shouldn’t care.

What’s it matter?

Why can’t you breathe around him!?

“Did you have a good night, Duke?” You whisper, earning his broken laugh, as he leans down and cups your face, tears on his long white lashes.

“Did you, Duchess?” He asks, so soft it’s like it’s not his voice, and you just look away, unable to face those brilliant, insane blue eyes.

“Good night, Duke.” You say then, turning, and opening your door knob, for him to grab you by the waist, shoving you against him, and your head leans back, as you eagerly rock against him. You hate it, your reaction, as he’s sobbing against your ear, as you’re sobbing against the cold night air.

“Good night?” He whispers brokenly, and you just nod, shoulders shaking. “Good night… good night!?” He’s pulling your hair, as he’s pressing you so hard against him you can’t fucking breathe, you are so consumed by him, you’d bend over right here and have him fuck into you.

What’s wrong with you!?

You can never!

“Yes… um… is something…��

“Wrong? Everything’s fucking wrong. I can only imagine licking your perfect cunt as I’m fucking her. I can’t get you out of my goddamn head.” He curses, sliding your chemise up and you’re trembling, thighs shaking. “Please just let me taste you, please… just once. Please.”

At his begging, at his insane desire, you just nod then, spreading your thighs, this is insane, it’s insane… “Taste me, then.”

“Fuck.” He’s swirling his fingers along your clit, and you damn near cum from that, throbbing so hard it hurts, as Satoru Gojo’s fingers shove up into you, and all you can imagine is his cock, and you’re crying out, trembling, as he moans. “Fuck, fuck I hate you.”

“I h-hate you too. I do. Fuck!” You’re grinding your cunt on his hand, and he’s so hard against you back, as he’s pulling his fingers out then, and you bend over, gasping as you turn, watching him suck you off his fingers, closing his pretty eyes, white lashes fluttering.

“Goddammit. Goddammit.” He curses, shoving you against the wall now, and you look up at him in shock. “Fuck you, Duchess.”

“Fuck you! Fuck you, Satoru!” He pauses then.

“Satoru?”

“Duke. Duke Gojo. Fuck you.” You shove more and more, and he moans, resting his head on yours before he disappears into his room, and you’re left in shock, in confusion, in disgust.

What is this?

Who is he!?

Who are you.

Enjoy the shitshow, dear Masochistic readers.

Part 6 here

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