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hivemuthur · 2 days ago

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A Deer and a Man - Ch.5.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit - somewhat more debauched than last time. From warnings, the earlier mentioned age gap makes a brief appearance and maybe there is a small mention of unrelatable to current day and age dating advice.

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.6.

word count: 6,8K

tag: #d&m

summary: You are the eldest daughter of a noble family, soon to be married to one of the most eligible bachelors in the region—Viktor, the adopted son of House Talis. The arrangement is simple: a marriage that secures your family’s wealth in exchange for access to Hextech. What could possibly go wrong?

author’s note: @mithrava and @rennethen thank you for reading before publishing! Playlist on Spotify. Please remember that you have to trust me and that if anything happens to me after I publish this you won't get chapter 6!!! :v

also the artist behind art is here!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

Emboldened by Eliza’s remark, you have been spending far more time in your husband’s company. The days pass in shared meals, conversations that stretch beyond necessity, and the occasional reading session on a rare, unoccupied Sunday.

Jayce’s visits have become a frequent occurrence, as he and Viktor steadily ascend the mountain of progress. During those times, you busy yourself with your own musical research, reaching conclusions that unfurl new paths in your mind.

But even the new paths and distractions are unable to erase what is already there. It is a slow, simmering thing—the frustration prickling beneath your skin, winding tighter with every prolonged moment spent in Viktor’s company. You have been careful, measured, reigning yourself in as best you can, yet he tests your restraint at every turn. A glance held a beat too long, a touch that lingers just past propriety, the way his voice dips into something softer, something intimate, as if he, too, forgets himself. And it is unbearable, this game of almosts. He speaks as though there is no distance between you, yet never crosses the space that remains. He teases, draws near, only to retreat just as quickly, leaving you feeling restless, your pulse ever heightened in his presence.

And yet, you are not blameless either. You lean into his attention, bask in it, even as it vexes you. Every time his gaze flickers over your hands as you play, every time he hovers just behind you, close enough that his breath stirs the fine hairs at your nape, you feel yourself falter. You ought to ignore it, to accept the terms set between you and continue as if you are unaffected. But how could you, when he unravels you with the smallest, most maddening gestures? It would be easier if he were cruel, distant, indifferent. But he is none of those things. Instead, he lingers—always lingering—until your restraint is worn thin and you find yourself wondering if he enjoys this torment as much as you suffer it.

It all clatters in your head on one of those inconceivable Sunday afternoons you both spend poring over books, lost in research—Viktor tracing the paths of physics, you unravelling the intricate bond between music and mathematics. He moves about restlessly, sighing and muttering to himself, his sharp mind leaping from one thought to the next as he periodically reaches for a new tome, only to abandon it moments later atop the ever-growing pile beside the couch where you sit.

At some point his fingers drift absently over the spines of the books wedged onto the lower shelves, searching without intent until they settle on a worn volume of mythology. He pulls it free, the pages crackling faintly as he flips through them, skimming past Olympian feuds and mortal tragedies until a familiar name catches his eye—Artemis. He lingers, scanning the depiction of the huntress goddess, poised with her bow, forever untouchable, her gaze fixed ahead as if daring pursuit. The text beside her tells of Actaeon, the hunter who strayed too close, who dared to watch and was punished for his folly. Viktor exhales sharply, pressing the bridge of his nose between his fingers. How fitting—he, too, had looked when he should not have. Had lingered, fascinated, when reason dictated he turn away. And yet, had you not looked back? Had you not, in your own way, invited the chase? A dry, exasperated chuckle escapes him before he can help it. Across the room, he feels the shift in the air as you glance up from your work, your curious gaze landing on him.

“Something the matter?” you ask innocently, your brows knitting at the sight of his fingers loosening his shirt collar in a restless gesture.

“Ah, nothing,” he waves a hand dismissively, shutting the book with a decisive snap. “Just the universe having its fun with me.” He turns back toward the shelves, as if the spines of the books might conceal the blush creeping up his face.

He cannot bring himself to voice the nagging truth of it—that he has let what should have been a small, fleeting thought fester into something resembling a mythological tragedy. A tragedy in which he, once a man, has been turned into a stag, unworthy of the sacrosanct essence before him, and soon to be devoured by the very hound of his own self-doubt. How fitting.

He twists his cane into the floorboards, staring so intently at the books before him that he doesn’t notice when you slip behind him and swipe the tome from his grasp.

The pages fall open in your hands, right where his fingers had pressed into the inner spine, revealing the very passage that had left him so restless. Over his shoulder, he catches the ghost of a knowing smile as you murmur, “Oh, Artemis. How fitting, is it not?”

Viktor swallows, his gaze flickering away before he slowly turns to face you. His head dips low as he exhales, voice quiet but weighted. “Eerily so.”

You watch him carefully, your gaze flickering between the book in your hands and the way his throat bobs as he swallows. The weight of his admission lingers in the air between you, taut and expectant. He has been teasing you for weeks—sidelong glances, lingering touches, remarks laced with just enough suggestion to leave you wondering if you were imagining it all. But now the way he hesitates, the way his ears burn despite his best efforts to appear unaffected—you see an opportunity. A game he has unknowingly invited you to play.

Your grip tightens around the tome you hold, a slow smile curling at the edges of your lips. If he enjoys toying with you, then perhaps it is time he experiences the other side of the game. You take a breath, steadying the thrill that hums beneath your skin, and step forward.

“Viktor,” you say softly, taking a measured step toward him, the book snapping shut in your hands. “Would you say you are still a man?”

His mouth falls open, words failing him when you are so near. He is within reach—so unbearably close that he can feel the warmth of you, the quiet pull of your presence. You rest the book on the shelf behind him, and your hands, unhurried, slide up his shirt, nails grazing the stitching. Viktor’s breath catches in his throat.

“Undoubtedly, a man still,” he answers, though his voice trembles. A foolish one, he thinks. His fingers clench around the head of his cane until his knuckles pale, while his other hand lingers at his side, twitching—caught between reaching for you and restraint.

Your breath fans against his skin as you inch closer, your mouth hovering over his. When you speak, your lips brush. “Then why do you quake like a stag about to be ripped to pieces?”

You hold his gaze, waiting—for permission, for surrender. It is the closest you have ever been to him, save for the innocent peck he bestowed upon you on your wedding day. Since then, you have remembered the taste of his breath and the feel of his lips against yours—so fleeting, so proper—that it left your soul thrashing within your ribcage in frustration.

Viktor exhales a shuddering breath, and the war between restraint and want is lost to the latter. His hands seize your waist, cane clatters to the floor, and his mouth crashes into yours, all hesitation dissolving between breaths. Heat pools low in your stomach as his torso presses against yours—you can feel his pulse beneath your palm. He leans into you, one hand gripping your neck, noses pressed together as his tongue invades you with a need you’d never have accused him of. The feeling floods you, ardent and searing, and you slide your fingers into his hair, ruining its arrangement further. Viktor groans into your mouth, twists you around and, with a dull thud, presses you against the library shelves, knocking the air from your lungs.

Your first real kiss, and already so perverse, so filthy. God help you, how much you want him in that moment. You swallow his tongue and moan at the feeling of his hand trailing up your nape to grasp the hair at the base of your skull. He could toss you around like a ragdoll and you would let him, for a promise of those lips leaving burning marks down your belly.

For Viktor, it is the embodiment of everything he has tried to imagine alone in his bed when his hand wandered shamelessly down his stomach. He can feel himself growing hotter as he steps between your legs, his palms falling, hesitating around your backside before he grasps it greedily, pressing your pelvis into his. You release a hot moan into his mouth at the feeling of his hardness against you. For a moment, Viktor forgets all the thoughts that tell him it is impossible for a man like him to have everything he ever wanted, landing so unexpectedly in his lap. That it is impossible to be loved and wanted, not merely for his achievements, but purely for who he is.

And you want him so much that your hand slips down his chest, reaching lower to palm him through his trousers—and Viktor groans, unable to stop himself from leaning in, deepening the kiss. His body responds, urging him to let go, to fully give in to the moment. He kisses you, his lips demanding, but as the intensity grows, so do the dark thoughts in his mind. You deserve someone more—someone whole, someone who isn’t weighed down by his frugality.

Viktor’s heart stutters, and he pulls away abruptly, the heat between you suddenly unbearable. He stumbles back, his chest heaving, and though the urge to reach for his cane is strong, he doesn't. Instead, he steps back, limping, the weight of his own self-doubt pushing him further away. His mind is filled with the painful truth: he is unworthy. He turns his face to the side, struggling to regain control, but the distance between you both only deepens the ache in his chest.

“Forgive me—I have forgotten myself,” he stutters, panting. He runs a hand through his hair, smoothing it back into place. “You… you don’t need to do this. Forgive me,” he says again, his face flushed a pretty pink, lips still glistening from where he’d kissed you.

“What is there to forgive?” you ask, your voice unsteady, suddenly frightened you’ve done something wrong. You pick up the cane and step toward him, confused, but he moves back once more. Your brows knit in worry.

“As this was never a marriage of love, only a contract of mutual benefit, this—” Viktor gestures vaguely, as if pointing to something obvious, though his voice betrays uncertainty. His fingers twitch before he forces his hand back to his side. “You are not obligated in any way to—”

“What if I do?” you cut him off, the words sharp, almost reckless. You tell yourself to be brave for the both of you, because Viktor looks like he is about to faint from the strain any minute.

“Love you, that is.” The words leave your lips in one of the boldest acts you’ve ever committed.

Viktor blinks, once, twice. His mouth parts in surprise, but nothing comes out at first. And then—he exhales a quiet chuckle, one that holds no real amusement. For a moment, you think he laughs at himself, but the words that come next cut cold through you. “Oh, you don’t love me, sweet girl.”

The dismissal lodges itself in your chest like a blade, twisting.

“And how would you possibly have the faintest idea of what I do feel?” Your voice is measured, but heat creeps into it, simmering under the surface.

“I just…” Viktor hesitates, his fingers pressing against his temples before he forces himself to meet your gaze again. “Forgive me. What I meant was that I don’t need you to say or do such things. I respect the terms of our contract, and—”

“Well, have you ever considered respecting me and my wishes?” Once more, you step toward him.

His expression tightens. “I am respecting you. By respecting the contract.”

You let out a sharp breath, disbelief curling at the edges of your voice. “Are you truly this devoid of emotion?”

With that, the cane is pushed into his hands. Viktor flinches, but his jaw sets, his logic a shield against the confrontation. “Are you sure you are interpreting yours well?” he counters, voice low. “I am aware that spending a lot of time with someone might feel like love, yet I am also aware that this is not something we would have chosen, had we been given another option.” Trying to regain his ground, he supports both hands on the cane and straightens, looking down on you.

“So, we are to stand blindly by the unwavering sentiment?” Your voice rises, cutting through the space between you. “There are at least three contracts we are entangled in. Which is the one you are respecting so dutifully?”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I’d like to believe that the respect extends to all of them.” His tone is edged with frustration. “And I would expect the same of you.”

“What if they mutually exclude each other?” You cross your arms, the anger burning now, holding you upright when the weight of his words threatens to push you down. “The ‘do as thou wilt’ and the ‘love and cherish’ seem not to come along so smoothly.”

They do, Viktor imagines himself saying. And then he imagines himself kissing you senseless again, the taste of your lips still lingering on his. But he just stands there, twisting his cane into the wooden floor, denting it.

“I never thought myself someone who would ever want a man, not after the encounters I was granted,” you say, seeing him resistant. “Yet, I was proven wrong. So even though I do resent having my choice taken away from me, I am grateful that fate has granted me you.”

Viktor’s lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, you think you see something waver in his expression—but then he shakes his head, the walls he’s built around himself hardening once again. “That is… very kind,” he says slowly. “Yet still. Such bonds, the ones you speak of, they form over years, through experience. And you—you do not know me, not truly.”

“I do not?” You let out a sharp, humourless laugh. “And what else do I possibly have to do every waking hour other than either speaking with you or observing you? Watching you eat, work, rest. Have I not had enough opportunity to form my own opinion? Do you truly think me this stupid?”

“This is not—” He exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose, visibly flustered. “I do not deem you stupid. On the contrary. But you are… so young.” His voice softens, as if trying to convince himself of something he’s not yet ready to admit. “I fear that what you feel might be an illusion. A—a youthful infatuation at best, and—”

“How many years part us?” You cut him off, not allowing him the chance to finish.

He blinks, startled by the sudden shift. “Uh. Eight. Eight years.”

“And do you think that within those eight years I will gain the wisdom I am apparently lacking now?” Your arms cross, a challenge sparking in your eyes. “Do you think an eight-year-old is wiser than a newborn?”

Viktor exhales through his nose, tilting his head slightly. “Actually, significantly, yes.”

“And why is that?” You arch a brow, daring him to justify his argument.

He shifts his weight onto his cane, his fingers tapping against the handle as if sorting through his thoughts, fighting to maintain control of the conversation. “Other than an ability to walk, formulate sentences, and be much more independent than a newborn—possibly even the ability to read, if they are fortunate enough to receive such a learning opportunity.” He pauses, his voice light but firm. “And I could go on if you wish me to.”

“Well, I disagree. I asked you about wisdom, not intelligence or learned skills.” Your voice does not waver, and Viktor’s brows lift ever so slightly at the confidence with which you speak.

“A newborn is able to express their emotions and needs without inhibition, therefore receiving all the attention, feeding, and care they require almost instantly,” you continue, leaning forward. “They know no shame, no social cues to obey nor they fear anyone’s judgment.”

Viktor is silent, but his gaze is fixed on you, searching. Admiring, almost.

“So tell me, in those eight years that part us,” you press on, your voice quieter but no less firm, “have you been granted some elderly wisdom that I will also gain in time? Will it make me see better, make me ascend to the pedestal from which you speak to me now? Or am I safe to say that from the pit I am standing in, I see myself expressing my needs and emotions freely while you are the one obeying restrictions and cues laid upon you by yourself only?”

His throat bobs as he swallows, his lips parting slightly, but no words come.

“Why is it so unthinkable that you’ve married a woman who has fallen in love with you upon getting to know you better?”

His eyes flicker with something deep and wounded, and for a fleeting moment, you pity him, until he speaks again.

“Because…” Viktor draws a slow breath, his voice barely above a whisper, the weight of his own conflicted thoughts crashing against the defences he’s tried so hard to build. “I don’t dare to deem my fate this gracious. Ever.”

You stare at him, your chest tightening. “Are you such a vile man, Viktor, that your fate should be cruel?”

“No.” His response is immediate, almost startled. His fingers twitch where they rest on his cane, fighting the urge to reach for you. “I’m simply… not a man to whom miracles like that happen.”

Your breath catches, but you do not let the moment pass unanswered.

“So,” you murmur, tilting your head slightly, eyes burning into his, “your hypothesis is based purely on your personal restrictions, not upon any scientific research or wisdom?”

He hesitates, something in his face flickering again—like a man standing on the edge of belief but refusing to fall, the fight between reason and heart battling within him.

“Please forgive me if I have offended you,” he says at last, voice careful, placating. “I didn’t—”

You shake your head, cutting through his words like a blade. “I am not so quick to offend.”

He stills. This is all beyond anything he would deem possible. Not only because your agreement on paper was supposed to be beneficial and comfortable on both sides—there should be no reason to move it so abruptly. But would it also be possible that you’ve seen right through him?

And as if he is not ruined enough, you open your mouth again. “What plagues me,” you continue, voice soft but heavy with meaning, “is the audacity with which you stand before me and lie to my face.”

Viktor’s brow furrows, his lips parting slightly before he speaks, his biggest fear about to be confronted. “What are you talking about?”

Your fingers curl at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you take a measured breath. “Why do you think I am such an imbecile? Because of my youth, is that it?” Your voice does not rise, but the sharp edge of it cuts through the space between you. “I will inform you now that I do have a pair of eyes, ears, and a brain. And my eyes not only truly see you, but they also see the way you look at me.”

Viktor tenses, the muscle in his jaw twitching. His fingers flex against his cane, but he does not speak.

“My ears hear the way you talk to me,” you press on, stepping forward, “and they hear you whispering my name to yourself at night when you commit your depravities alone.”

His breath audibly catches, his composure splintering again. He stiffens as if struck, his eyes flickering wide before darting away, shame bleeding into his features.

“And my brain,” you continue, relentless, “connects all of this information into a conclusion of which I am not ashamed—but you are.”

Viktor exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“So I ask again,” you demand, voice trembling with emotion now, “what is so unthinkable in two people falling in love? What repulses you so?”

His eyes snap back to yours, startled, almost wounded.

“Is it me, or is it you?” Your voice softens, but the accusation in it lingers like a ghost in the air. “Is it my bluntness? Is it the way I eat or the way I speak? Am I truly so foolish that I have mistaken the look in your eyes for love?”

His mouth opens, but all he can offer is silence.

“Do you not lust for me but secretly curse me in the middle of the night?” Your voice trembles now, the fire burning in your chest threatening to crack. “Or is it you who fears something that shouldn’t be feared—because you prefer to be miserable for some godforsaken reason?”

Viktor’s breath stutters, his entire body visibly rigid. He looks utterly stricken, as though you have peeled him open and laid him bare.

“Darling, I—” His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper, reaching for you instinctively.

But you step back, your hand lifting between you—a final barrier.

“No.” The word is firm, final.

His eyes darken, his fingers curling into a fist at his side.

“I have no interest in excuses.” Your voice does not waver, but your breathing is uneven, chest rising and falling with the force of your emotions. “I wish for you to know that I am furious with you and need to be alone.”

Viktor flinches slightly at the raw honesty of your words, but he does not fight them.

“You can continue to dwell in your misery,” you finish, turning sharply away from him, “if that is what makes you whole.”

You do not look back as you walk away since the tears piercing your eyes would make seeing anything impossible anyway.

And Viktor—motionless, breathless—lets you go. He watches you go, his throat constricting around words that stubbornly will not come. His hands twitch at his sides, fingers aching to reach for you, to stop you, to—what? Apologize? Confess? No. That would unravel everything. His heart pounds against his ribs, a traitorous thing, as if trying to break free from the prison of his own making.

You have laid him bare, stripped him of every excuse, every justification he had carefully built between you. And yet, he does nothing. Not because he does not want to—God, how he wants to—but because a man like him has never been enough to be able to want. He has always been the one who watches from the sidelines, the one who reaches too late or never at all. You think him a coward, and perhaps you are right. But he has spent a lifetime learning that the things he desires most are the very things he is fated to lose. So he lets you go. Because he does not know how to hold onto something so bright without dimming it in his grasp.

***

The following days are agonizing. Eliza does her very best to cheer you up to no avail. She fusses over your hair, braiding it messily with ribbons in a way that once made you laugh, but now only earns her a sad smile. She brings you tea sweetened just how you like it, offering biscuits with a hopeful raise of her brows, yet you nibble absently at the edges, appetite lost. She chatters about the household gossip, about Master Jayce’s latest visit and how he nearly tripped over the hound outside, but even that fails to coax more than a hum from you.

You go to bed early and wake late, ensuring you miss Viktor at meals. When Eliza asks if you’d like to join her on a morning walk, you decline with a shake of your head, burrowing deeper beneath the covers. When you finally rise, the house is already alive with movement, but you drift through it like a ghost, keeping to the quieter corridors, seeking solitude. You play the piano only when you know Viktor is deep in work, your fingers coaxing out the saddest tunes—mostly requiems by John Field, the notes bleeding sorrow into the air, though no one dares to comment on it.

For Viktor, it’s equally harrowing. In the lab, he finds himself distracted, his mind slipping from equations and mechanisms to the faint strains of music drifting through the halls. More often than not, he catches himself leaning toward the door, tilting his head as if to better hear the mournful tunes spilling from the piano. Each note is an audible wound, a requiem played just for him, and he sighs deeply, rubbing a weary hand over his face.

Jayce notices. “Alright, what’s wrong with you?” he prods one afternoon when Viktor stares blankly at an open notebook, his quill poised but unmoving. “You’ve been off for days.” Viktor dismisses him with a terse shake of his head, returning to his work with forced concentration, but the weight in his chest does not lift.

He lingers in the dining room longer than usual, poking absently at his food, glancing toward the doorway with misplaced hope. Each time, disappointment settles heavier in his stomach when you do not come. Some nights, in the quiet hush of the corridors, he stops before your bedroom door, his fingers hovering near the wood. He stands there, poised to knock, his breath shallow and uneven. But in the end, his hand falls away, and he walks back to his own chambers, the ache in his chest deepening.

One day, when you have exhausted your repertoire of requiems, Eliza finds you in the music room, chest heaving, eyes wide. You are slumped over the instrument in resignation, your finger pressing the same key over and over, the dull note echoing through the room.

“Miss, forgive my intrusion,” she says hastily, a hand holding a short stay and a brush clutched to her chest. “But a carriage is approaching. It’s… most likely your Lady Mother.”

You stop pressing the key, the last note fading into tense silence as your head snaps up to look at her, quiet panic tightening your throat. Your hand flies to your undone hair, then to your chest as you try to form the words, “How long?”

“Five minutes at best,” Eliza says, already moving toward you with purpose. She tosses the brush and short stay onto the piano bench before grabbing your hands, tugging you upright. “Come, we must—oh, Lord, miss, this is a disaster—”

“I know!” you hiss back as she hastily pulls at the laces of your gown, working to fasten them properly. The two of you grunt and mutter through the ordeal, Eliza’s fingers fumbling in her haste while you attempt to twist your hair into some semblance of order. “This is impossible!” you whine as a stubborn curl springs free.

In the corridor, a similar chaos unfolds.

Jayce groans as he struggles with Viktor’s cravat, attempting to loop it into something presentable while smoothing down Viktor’s hopelessly unruly hair. “Hold still, damn it,” Jayce huffs. “It’s just your mother-in-law, not the bloody King—”

“She is worse,” Viktor mutters, shoving Jayce’s hands away to fix his cravat himself.

As they pass the music room, Viktor glances toward the open door—and then promptly regrets it. A swish of skirts, a flash of petticoats, the sight of your bare legs as Eliza yanks your gown into place—he freezes so violently that Jayce walks straight into him, their foreheads colliding with a loud crack.

“Fuck!” Viktor curses, reeling back and clutching his head.

Inside the room, you and Eliza startle. Then, to your own shock, a laugh bubbles up from your throat, spilling into the tense air. Eliza claps a hand over her mouth, giggling as she hurriedly finishes the last adjustments to your dress.

By the time you all converge in the main hall, everything is rushed, frantic—Eliza fussing with the last stray wisps of your hair, Jayce straightening his waistcoat, Viktor rolling his shoulders as if that might somehow ease the tension thrumming through the air.

You, however, stand still, pulse pounding, hands tightening into fists at your sides. Your mother’s carriage is nearly at the door, and dread coils tight in your stomach.

Viktor notices. Before you can retreat into yourself, his hand lifts—fingertips brushing against your cheek, then cupping it fully. The warmth of his palm is grounding, and your breath catches. It is the first real touch, the first true interaction, since that day.

He leans in, his voice a low murmur against your ear.

“Calm,” he soothes, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “You look gorgeous.”

You beg whatever god is listening to freeze this moment in time—his hand on you, his breath tickling your ear, the scent of his hair filling your airways. You place your palm over his in silent thanks, failing to notice the way Jayce smiles at the scene or the exact moment Algernon swings the door open and announces your mother and sisters.

The squeal of your name echoes through the room as both Kitty and Tess squeeze past the butler, tumbling forward to wrap themselves around your waist and knees. You kneel to hold them properly, only then realising your eyes are prickled with unshed tears.

“Why are you crying?” Tess asks, tugging at a stray strand of your hair.

“I’m just so happy to see you,” you lie, burying your face in her small shoulder.

You sniffle the moment up and straighten at once, smoothing down your skirts as you rise to greet your mother properly. The warmth of your sisters' embrace lingers, but you push it aside as you step forward and dip into a practiced curtsy.

"Maman," you say, keeping your voice even.

"Darling," she replies, her lips pursed as she takes you in—your hasty attire, the remnants of Eliza’s rushed handiwork in your hair. You see the flicker of disapproval in her eyes, but she says nothing, merely offering her hand for you to take. You do, squeezing her gloved knuckles with a weak smile.

Viktor steps forward next, inclining his head in a small bow. "My Lady," he greets, his voice composed but restrained. He takes her hand lightly and brushes his lips against the air above her knuckles, the way one might approach a queen, detached but polite.

Your mother watches him with the same cool appraisal she granted you. She neither scowls nor softens, merely observes. "Mister Viktor," she returns, voice unreadable.

Jayce, ever the charmer, takes her hand with a dashing grin. "It is a pleasure, My Lady. You honour us with your presence."

Your mother gives a faint smile, the first hint of warmth she has shown, though it does not quite reach her eyes. "Mister Jayce. Ever the gentleman, I see."

What follows is an unbearably awkward meal. The silverware clinks too loudly in the strained silence, and the small talk is stilted at best. Jayce does his utmost to fill the gaps, speaking of inconsequential things—the weather, the state of trade, some dull anecdote from the city. You nod along, offering practiced smiles, while Viktor remains reserved, answering only when addressed. Your mother partakes little, her expression unreadable as she dabs her lips with her napkin and hums noncommittally at each new topic.

At last, as the meal nears its end, she sets down her utensils with a quiet clink. "Eliza, dear," she addresses your maid, "why don't you take the girls for a proper tour of the house? I would like a moment alone with my daughter and her husband."

Eliza hesitates, glancing at you for approval, but you only nod, not trusting yourself to speak. She rises from her chair on the side of the room, gesturing for Kitty and Tess to follow. The girls glance between you and your mother, sensing something unspoken, but obey without question. As their chatter fades into the hallway, an uncomfortable stillness settles over you.

Once Algernon leads the remaining adults into the drawing room, your mother settles onto the cushioned couch, folding her hands in her lap as she levels you with an assessing gaze. "Now, my dear," she says smoothly, "why don't you tell me how married life has been treating you?"

You lower yourself onto the second couch beside Viktor, careful to keep your posture poised under your mother’s scrutiny. Viktor, ever the tactician, takes your hands in his—awkwardly, hesitantly, as if the gesture will anchor the illusion.

"Very well," you answer, the words brittle with forced brightness.

"Very well," Viktor echoes at once, his tone so unconvincing that even Jayce shifts uncomfortably.

Your mother’s mouth twitches, amusement flickering behind her cool gaze. "I take it your little scheme was worth it, then?"

Jayce coughs out a chuckle before quickly disguising it as a clearing of his throat. Viktor leans forward, already forming a rushed explanation, but you cut them both off.

"My scheme," you correct, lifting your chin. "It was me."

As you level her with a stare, the misery that has weighed on you for days begins to lift. In its place rises a familiar defiance—one that has always been yours, steadfast and unyielding. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, confidence surges through you, not as a fractured piece of yourself, but as something whole. You are no longer a collection of selves fighting for dominance; you are one, moulded by every version of yourself that has ever existed. And now, with conjoined hands, you face your mother at last, stepping into the duel your father had warned you about.

"Gentlemen," she says, her gaze fixed on you, unwavering. "If you would be so kind as to give me and my daughter a moment alone."

"My Lady, if I may—" Viktor begins, but you silence him with a touch, your hand landing gently on his cheek.

"It's all right," you murmur.

He stares back at you, eyes full of admiration. In a moment that belongs only to the two of you, he nods, his fingers squeezing your knee in silent acknowledgement. Then, without a word, he rises, inclines his head respectfully to your mother, and beckons a bewildered Jayce toward the door.

Your mother watches the exchange, her expression unmoving, betraying nothing. Only when the door clicks shut behind the men does she turn back to you, her gaze sharp and assessing, bright like a hawk preparing to strike.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

You meet her stare unflinchingly. "I could ask the same of you." She exhales, a slow, measured breath. "The contract was horribly unjust," you continue, your voice steady. "Did you truly believe I would sit back and accept it without protest?"

"It truly eludes me how you are so quick to dismiss your own blood over a man you had met only once. Oh, the power of love—so mysterious," she says with a venomous smile.

"No need to be cruel, Maman," you reply, your voice measured.

"I am not being cruel. Simply wounded that you, my own daughter, went behind my back for some—"

"Some?" you challenge, cutting her off before the insult fully forms. You watch as she swallows whatever sharp remark was poised on her tongue, the hesitation almost imperceptible. Pressing forward, you add, "In all honesty—would you have reconsidered if I had come to you first?"

She exhales, waving a dismissive hand as she leans back against the couch in a way you've never seen before—relaxed, almost resigned.

"Probably not," she admits. "You could have told me sooner, though. I made a complete fool of myself in front of your father. He was utterly delighted to know something before I did."

Your eyebrows lift in surprise, and you let out a startled chuckle. "Is that all? You're not going to reprimand me? Tell me how I’ve endangered the family?"

"You are married now. And the research is going well, from what I’ve heard. The only ones who can endanger the family now are your sisters—though, thanks to your efforts, the pressure on them is significantly lower."

"That’s… what?" You blink at her, caught off guard.

She sighs, then tilts her head slightly as if studying you. "I apologize for surprising you. Though I must admit, I was hoping you would invite me sooner."

"Maman, I—"

"No need." She moves from her seat to sit beside you, reaching for your hand in a gesture so unfamiliar that you tense before allowing it. Never in your life has your mother been this loose with you, this… human.

"Oh, darling," she murmurs, giving your hand a light squeeze. "I am glad to see you well. Though…" Her sharp eyes scan you with barely concealed disapproval. "I see my teachings have done nothing for you. Quite the opposite, in fact," she adds, her gaze flicking to your bare ankles peeking from beneath your skirts and your hastily pinned hair.

"But who am I to dictate now," she muses, her tone wry. "If your husband doesn’t object."

"He… he cares not," you mutter, your brows knitting as you glance down at her hand still wrapped around yours.

She tilts your chin up, a smile, a warm, strange smile curves her face in a way that is so uncharacteristic your mouth falls open. “That,” she says quietly, “I find hard to believe.”

And you don’t know if it’s the whirlwind of emotions that have coursed through your veins in the span of mere hours or the sheer surprise of your mother acting—well, like an actual mother for the first time since you reached adolescence—but the tears you had managed to hold back before can no longer be contained. They spill down your cheeks as you press your face into the nape of her neck and whisper, "He doesn’t want me."

She stiffens at first, caught off guard by the way you fold into her like a child, but then—slowly, hesitantly—her arms lower, encircling you in an embrace. One hand smooths over your hair, the other presses firm against your back, as if she could hold you together through touch alone.

“My darling child,” she murmurs, her voice softer than you have ever heard it. “I have seen men upon men in my lifetime, and trust me when I tell you—if Viktor wants something, it is you. He just doesn’t know how to ask.”

You freeze. Her words settle deep in your chest, cracking open something raw that you have kept hidden even from yourself. The weight of the past few days—the sleepless nights, the aching uncertainty, the cold distance that has built between you and Viktor—collapses in on itself. The dam breaks.

You tell her everything. Or as much as you dare. You skirt around the details that would surely make her regret this moment of motherly indulgence, but you pour out the rest. The tension, the longing, the way Viktor had held you at bay, the way he had looked at you like you were something fragile, something to be preserved rather than touched. How that look had made you feel cherished and unwanted all at once. And your mother listens. Truly listens.

When you finally sit back, pressing yourself against the couch with a shuddering exhale, you feel—lighter. Not entirely, but enough. Enough to look at her without that old wariness between you.

Your mother studies you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she sighs and takes your hands in hers again, holding them with a kind of deliberate care that unsettles you more than her usual sharpness ever did.

“I might have failed you here and there as a mother,” she says at last, her voice filled with a rare honesty. “But this one thing—I might be able to fix.” She squeezes your hands, her grip firm with intent. “We are not supposed to chase them. They are supposed to chase us.” A knowing smile tugs at the corner of her lips as she leans in ever so slightly. “Let him chase you, for once.”

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #requests #d&m

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theycallme-ook · 13 hours ago

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(I've been going insane about JPV again for the past few hours. Followers excuse me)

A new kid moves into the house. He's here bc you're the only ones who can protect him (his dad was weird and wanted to make him an assassin or something?? So. Batman level stuff) you don't get along. Eventually you form some bond and feel some protectiveness over him bc man this kid's life sucked until now. Showing him how to have fun is kinda nice. But then things get complicated when this.. Suit. This *thing* shows up in his dreams. He pursues it bc he's desperate for answers about his father and why his life is the way it is. He's not really happy and you can see that, so you help him but instead of closure you get robbed of you new brother best friend

Now you're living with Jean Paul and this *thing*. This other thing that puts on the suit and replaces your friend. And you love JP but you *hate* Azrael. They're both the same and yet not. One is gentle, soft spoken and kind. With a love of learning and helping people. Who will patch you up after a rough night with soft hands and awkward jokes that you laugh at anyways to make him feel better. The other is cruel, harsh and holier than thou. Always ready with a fiery tongue and fireier sword for anything it deems a "sinner" even tho you know Jean Paul would act completely different to that same person. You can't reconcile the two, and neither can JP. You don't know where one ends and the other begins and neither does he. You want nothing more than for him to put away the suit and never think about it again. He says he wants that too but he can't ever seem to do it. You're both confused and frustrated teens by now who have been through this cycle already. Things deteriorate.

You're hurt that at the end of the day JP will always choose Azrael over you, and frustrated at yourself for being frustrated bc Bruce and JP and everything has confirmed that he's not fully in control. But still. It's the estrangement of it all. You had a brother you used to be close with. But every day the spectre of his father drove you further and further apart until you barely recognize him anymore. No one else understands you like he does but at the same time you're strangers. Dick never quite stops being that hurt kid who can't understand why his brother can't stop living in the shadow of his dead father. JP never quite being able to explain that his father is dead but his shadow very much is not. They love each other but can never see eye to eye again. They're both people who want to help (and they do!) but they can't help the person closest to them. There's def some sort of teenage screaming match had about *why can't you just put the suit away* bc Dick just wants his brother back so if AZ could just fuck off forever things could go back to the way they used to be. It would be perfect if only the haunting of his blood wasn't there. JP sees this as further condemnation tho bc deep down he knows there's no getting rid of the system and if Dick hates Azrael then he hates *him*. Dick tries to get him to come up with a new identity, tries inviting him to the Titans, but JPV knows it isn't the kindness Dick pretends it is and that will always be Dick's team and he already poisoned Dick's family

The way this complicates things w Mr Bruce "I can fix them" Wayne too.. B might be able to be more pragmatic about it any not hold onto the idea that they can get rid of Azrael, but he would fixate on the idea that he can change it. He acknowledges that the system has existed for centuries and probably still will exist for centuries more if the order has their way, but that's the thing. *He* has the order's darling weapon now, not them. And if he could just teach it that things aren't so black and white then maybe poor Jean Paul could have some peace again. He'll try so hard to save him and then blame himself when he can't help.

Ouaghh... Babs being close w JP since her Batgirl days.. she keeps an eye on him. they trade CS jokes. she offers him work at the belltower they know he won't take.

you're a street rat from Gotham. you move into *the* Bruce Wayne's house. you hear about dick grayson, the prodigal son,the golden one. but there's another one, one that is a cautionary tale in hushed words. a blond man shows up for thanksgiving and speaks softly but he always seems like he doesn't fully fit. he's nice. he talks to you about books you've never heard of. you wonder who he is.

You see Dick looking at him with this sad but longing look when the man is turned away. Bruce asks how grad school is going and he says it's going good. Dick tries to relate with his college experiences but something he says kills the conversation somehow. Things are clipped and stilted between them but they still share a desperate hug at the end of the night. They make half hearted promises to do better at staying in touch this year. They don't.

Later you're on a case with Nightwing and you run into some guy in red with a sword. He's just standing there but Nightwing gets *really* agitated upon seeing him. This guy, Azrael, seems very disinterested in Nightwing but they appear to know each other very well. Nightwing tells you to stay back. Azrael sounds exasperated when he reminds him he doesn't hurt kids. Nightwing snapped that that didn't stop him years ago. Azrael says that was different. They almost fight but then back off and focus on the case which is odd bc you were sure this was about to get ugly. This tense clearly-they-have-history-but-will-tolerate-each-other thing continues for the rest of the night until Azrael goes too hard on the criminal of the hour and Nightwing gets into a full blown brawl w him over it. You try to break them up bc honestly from what you've seen Azrael seems like a decent ally aside from a few flaws but Nightwing is absolutely *furious* about this in a way you've never seen him act before so you don't quite know how to approach this. It ends when Nightwing manages to rip off the guys weird knight mask to reveal... The nerdy blond dude from Thanksgiving. Jean Claude, was it? And they both instantly stop. Scuffed up and breathing hard but showing no signs of hostility, almost as if there was never a fight at all. The Az guy seems confused as to why he's there and what's happening. He knows Dick's ID (not too surprising with the familiar way to was talking to the others but still. It's weird since Jason barely knows anything about him) and they seem more friendly w each other all of a sudden but Jason doesn't know what.. happened. How did they go from trying to strangle each other to this?

"What's- oh. Dick?"

"Hey, Jean Paul."

"I did it again, huh?" Weak laughter. "Where are we now?"

"Miller harbor."

"Ah."

"..."

"Did I do that?"

"Nah, we were tracking some smugglers. One got a lucky hit and pushed me into some trash."

A lie. Jason had watched Azrael slam Nightwing's face into a wall himself. But he knew better than to speak up. Jean Paul clearly needed this little kindness.

"Ah... Okay..." He swayed sharply, none of the confidence and self assurance present in the posture of Azrael remained. He was just back to the regular, dopey guy Jason had met before now that the mask was lying flush on the dingy concrete. One that, judging by his face, looked like he might hurl soon.

"Do you want to come back with us?"

"No, no. I have a quiz in the morning. I have to be there for that."

"Ah. Right. Do you.. can I call you a cab?"

"No, it's fine."

Jason glanced between the two of them. This went unnoticed by his persons of interest. They were too busy avoiding looking at each other.

"I'll stop this," Jean Paul said, suddenly solemn.

"Yeah, okay," Dick replied, exhaustion ringing around the edges.

Had Jason missed something? Had they just had a whole conservation in the silence?

"Will you be at dinner on Saturday?" Dick continued, an energy suddenly injected about as naturally as a needle.

"Will you?"

(made in tandem w @msperfectsheep-posts )

sometimes JPV and Az make me so sad i have to send Bruce out to go get another ward

#damn this got long.#might make some actual fics once I've finished my az reading #this was fun #azrael dc #jean paul valley #dick grayson #ook rbs #dc #ook txt

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lissyneedstopissy · 15 hours ago

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tuna mayo ! miya osamu

chapter eight – unfortunate circumstances

wc 4176

MDNI.

if you'd like to join the taglist , please fill out this form !

tw: mentions of harassment, i made atsumu lowkey kinda stupid in this chapter bc i felt like it LMAO

12:42.

[bold is [y/n] , bold + italics is osamu]

“Hello?”

[Y/N] stared at her phone with an expression that one could describe as “disgusted.” She wasn’t disgusted at the all-too familiar contact she rang, yet instead, was disgusted at the fact that she and this specific man got into all sorts of problems with the internet.

“[Y/N], ya there?”

“I’m here.” She immediately answered, sitting up straight and disregarding her lazy position. [Y/N] began to think back to the moment where everything went wrong – moreso, where the initial problem was created, being Interference. If only you had declined to go out, like you regularly do.

“How’s yer day goin’ so far?” The man on the other end genuinely asked, yet, [Y/N] responded with a scoff.

“Osamu.”

“Yeah yeah, my b–”

“It’s literally my day off, and my fucking manager just texted me and told me to come in ASAP.” She paused for a second to regain her composure, then proceeded to continue. “They also… uh, want to hold a meeting. A meeting that includes you, Atsumu, and myself.”

In the background from the other end of the line, a bell being rung could be heard, signifying that someone has entered Onigiri Miya. Concentrating back to the call, Osamu sighed heavily.

“I know, that’s why I told ya to call me. ‘Tsumu already texted me ‘bout it.”

You let out a small ‘fuck’ at his own mention of the blonde setter. Putting your phone on your lap, you leaned your head back. “What’re we gonna tell them?” You didn’t receive an immediate response from him, but when you did, you could tell there was a change in his tone.

“We should be open ‘bout our current relationship, y’know? Like, tell ‘Tsumu and whoever does the social media stuff ‘bout us.”

That was the worst idea you had heard in your life.

“Oh, absolutely not. Maybe we can–”

“Are you serious?” Osamu questioned, cutting you off. Although you were both on a regular phone call, an unmistakable grimace was present on his face. “[Y/N], we were seen holdin’ hands. You do know that holdin’ hands is a thing that mainly couples do, right?”

A slight cringe on your face replaced the neutral expression that was previously there. You stayed silent, with multiple thoughts countering one another. It was previously mentioned before by you to Osamu, that you didn’t want to tell a bunch of people, especially Atsumu, about your relationship with him. Hinata, and most likely Sakusa, were the only ones who knew, and you were almost 100% confident that they weren’t going to tell anybody.

“I understand that, but I told you before that I don’t want to tell Atsumu.”

“[Y/N].” Osamu huffed. Annoyance, and slight impatience could be heard in his voice. “There’s basically no point in hidin’ it anymore. He can handle it, he’s a big boy.”

“Yeah, I understand that, I just– I don’t think he’ll be too happy that I got with his twin brother!”

“Okay, then I have a question for ya.” The man on the other line slightly paused. There was a bit of hesitation, before he spoke once more.

“Do you intend on bein’ in an actual relationship with me, or are we just gonna be in a secret talkin’ stage forever?”

Grabbing your phone off your lap, you held it closer to your face, while rearranging your current position. “I do want to be in an actual relationship with you.” You confirmed, leaning forward, and bending your back. Your head facing downwards, suggesting a slumped appearance.

A small cough could be heard on the other line, in an attempt for Osamu to clear his voice. “Great, glad ta’ hear. So what’s the problem?”

“First off, your brother is a bum. With all due respect, he acts like a child during serious situations, and it’s annoying. Second off, it’s not just about Atsumu.” You sighed, moving your eyes from the phone screen to a neglected book shelf in your apartment. “It’s also about the general public. All the shit that’s on your brother is going to move to you, and frankly enough, I don’t want that to happen. It could be bad for your reputation.”

You were always a private person. Something about not having your life all out to the world was a wonderful way of living. Working for the MSBY Black Jackals was never not an option to you, as it was a great way to gain experience for any future working opportunities. Even though this isn’t the first time you were in a news article, this is a completely different situation, something you weren’t used to at all, and yet, you still felt that the world around you would remain calm if you took control. A part of your consciousness still felt guilty, though. Osamu wanted to express that the two of you were together, and you hate to admit it, but after much thought throughout the current phone call, it actually wasn’t a bad idea to help yourself publicly. What you said to him over the phone wasn’t false, though. If the truth that he was the one who punched that guy, Onigiri Miya could lose customers, and you didn’t want that at all. You knew how hard he worked to open his business.

“Listen, if I was able to get Bokuto out of that one scandal where he was seen making out with Goshiki Tsutomu’s girlfriend, then I can get you out of this.”

“But–”

“No, I’ll see you at the meeting in an hour. Bye.”

click!

You believed that at this point, Atsumu must’ve realized that it was Osamu in the photos that went viral, and not him. You still haven’t received a confrontational text from him, though, which worried you a bit.

As you put your phone back on the couch in the seat next to you, you rest your head in your hands, your mind immediately being impaled by a strong feeling of stress, combined with dread. Ultimately, this was your problem to deal with. Atsumu and Osamu don’t know how to deal with a situation like this, and in comparison to yourself, you didn’t know either, yet you were more capable.

It doesn’t seem like the time to point this out, but this was truly one of the best ways to get hands-on experience to potentially add to your resume.

Grabbing your phone, you speed-walked back to your bedroom, eyes immediately landing on your laptop, placed on your desk. There, you sat in your chair, and opened up a google doc, beginning to type out a statement to the best of your abilities with what little time you had. It didn’t seem to help that you were still hungover, but that was not your main concern.

Getting this statement done was more important.

13:56.

The drive to work usually brought a sense of tranquility to you, yet all you could feel as you entered the parking lot for MSBY’s main facility was an extreme amount of unease, better described as anxiety. Exiting your car, and walking into the building went by as a blur, as you could only focus on this meeting, and all the potential outcomes, whether they’re positive, or negative.

As the familiar voices of two men conversing came closer to ear shot, a change of pace in your breathing came about.

‘Why am I getting nervous?’ You couldn’t help but wonder. Could it be that you weren’t ready for potential confrontation? Or was it the fact that you may or may not be getting laid off due to causing MSBY some trouble?

As the designated meeting door was open, you were met with immediate silence, and staring eyes from both of the Miya twins, who were sitting side by side, with Osamu, still in his work uniform, and Atsumu, in his training gear. Seeing the both of them sit at the farthest corner of the long, white table with eachother caused your heartbeat to quicken, yet thankfully, your managers weren't in the room yet. You move your feet to the side adjacent from theirs, setting your computer down.

“Why’re ya sittin’ there?” Atsumu asked, keeping his eyes on your now-sitting frame.

“Because.” A brief, immediate response left your mouth, without a single thought running through your mind.

“Because… what?” Now it was Osamu who spoke, countering your previous reply.

“Because, I don’t want to sit by either of you right now.”

“Why?” Atsumu questioned once more. You could feel the agitation in your system begin to rise, mainly due to the reasoning that he hasn’t realized he was being annoying.

All you felt like you could do was stare at the blonde man. Using the best of your ability to send a ‘death stare,’ was utterly useless. It was clear to anyone within a safe amount from you that you were mentally exhausted.

Atsumu’s question remained unanswered, as you slowly leaned your head into your hands, only being surrounded by your intrusive thoughts. Thoughts that contemplated how the meeting was going to go, thoughts that wondered what your relationship with both brothers was going to be, thoughts that were interrupted as Atsumu spoke up, once more.

“[Y/N], are you mad because we held hands last night?”

‘...What?’

It seemed almost automatic the way your hands slowly left your face and dropped to your side, revealing your jaw, which was already dropped. Your eyes widened in an absolute sheer amount of disbelief, blinking repeatedly.

It wasn’t until a moment later, when you shot up out of your chair, and yelled, “Did you actually just say that?!”

Both brothers across from you flinched simultaneously, not expecting your voice to raise. Atsumu didn’t seem to know why you were becoming upset, while Osamu understood almost immediately after seeing the look of terror on your face. He felt as if he had to say something… something to help you relax before you burst a blood vessel.

“[Y/N].” He spoke calmly, with caution.

“Osamu, did you hear what he just said?” You pointed sharply at the blonde man, while staring at the other. Yet, Atsumu looked confused for another reason.

“Since when were the both of ya on first name terms? I coulda’ sworn y’all only met twice…”

You and Osamu immediately locked eyes, the muscles in your jaw tensing, sitting plainly, as his mouth fell open. It felt like years as you and Osamu stared at one another, desperately trying to read each other’s thoughts about what’s happening at this very moment. Internally, you both came to the realization that Atsumu had not yet figured out that the male in the pictures spread around the internet wasn’t him, but his brother.

You’re not sure what came over you, but you threw your hands up, exasperated, eventually getting out of your seat, grabbing your computer, and walking to where Atsumu was sitting, settling your computer down in front of him. You opened your laptop with so much force that even Osamu thought you were about to break it. Clicking on a new page search in safari, you typed in “Miya Atsumu and [L/N] [F/N],” resulting in many guaranteed article results, including multiple versions of the infamous photo that was taken. After setting your sight on the first picture you saw, you immediately clicked on it, and shoved the computer closer to Atsumu.

He analyzed the photo for a couple seconds, and stared back at you with no hint of concern, or even dissatisfaction in his eyes.

A loud scoff was heard from you after you got a reaction you didn’t want, and although you wanted it to sound mean, it ended up turning into a fake laugh that had no way of being controlled.

Finally calming yourself down, you gave this whole thing one more chance, not realizing what you were about to do at that moment.

“Okay, Atsumu.” You spoke gently, whilst pointing at the computer screen for a second, specifically at the male who was holding your hand in the picture. “Who is this man? I need you to think very hard about it.”

Atsumu broke his eyes away from yours, and moved his head closer to the screen, brows furrowing tightly, and face pinching as he squinted his eyes. He gazed at the screen for a moment more, before finally speaking up.

“Uhhhh, that’s m–”

“THAT’S OSAMU, YOU DUMB PIECE OF SHIT!”

Almost instantly, Atsumu grabbed the computer, putting the screen dangerously close to his face, with more hints of worry in his eyes. As you watched him scan the screen, that’s when you truly realized that you were so overcome with anger that you didn’t figure out what you were doing until now. Essentially, you fucked up. For the whole duration of you and Osamu being in a situationship, you were careful not to let Atsumu catch on, knowing you’d be in trouble. Atsumu wanted to go through your text messages because he was bored? Absolutely not. Atsumu wanted to look through your camera roll? Hell no. Atsumu texted you saying he was going to Onigiri Miya for a quick bite to eat, yet you were already there, eating? Not anymore!

Quietly, Atsumu put down the computer on the table in front of him, first looking at Osamu, who held a hand over his mouth for an unknown period of time, yet with a plain expression painting his face.

“‘Tsum–”

“Shhh.”

Finally, Atsumu glared at you as his few grew ashen, with that specific look on his face. The look you’ve been craving to see ever since the topic of holding hands has been brought up. The blonde’s mouth opened, yet nothing came out, causing guilt to finally flow all throughout your body.

“Are y’all in a relationship? Boyfriend and girlfriend?” He eventually asked, voice sounding as calm as ever.

In unison, both you and Osamu muttered out a small “no.” Atsumu’s expression lightened up in the slightest, straightening his body while remaining seated.

“Okay, so what’s the problem then?”

“We’re in a situationship.” Now, it was Osamu who began to try and explain things to his brother. “We’ve been talkin’ for ‘bout a month now, maybe a bit more.”

“And I didn’t want to tell you, honestly.” You spoke immediately after, hands clasping together as you pressed your lips together, forming a straight line.

“Ya didn’t wanna tell me, ‘cause you knew I’d be upset, right?”

“Uh…” A small cough left your mouth, in an attempt to feign your awkwardness. “Yes.”

Atsumu slowly nodded his head, looking away from you and now straight. Almost instantly, he slammed both of his hands down on the table in front of him, “Well, damn straight I’m gonna be upset!” He pointed one of his fingers directly at you, and continued. “It’s the fact that ya had the audacity to… what? Secretly meet up with ‘Samu behind my back?” He then proceeded to move his pointed finger from you to his brother, aiming it at his chest, and repeatedly jabbing it against him. “And you! [Y/N] was my friend first. This same shit happened in high school, and ya still didn’t even learn yer lesson!”

“Oh grow up, ‘Tsumu.” Osamu grabbed Atsumu’s hand with enough force to cause a few veins to bulge out of Osamu’s hand. “We’re all adults, and frankly enough, we all have a right ta’ choose who we want to like.”

Atsumu pulled his finger free from Osamu’s grasp, as his expression grew more irritated. “Obviously, asshole! But ya don’t understand – you coulda’ chose anybody to be with. There’s like, four billion other girls out there, yet ya chose [Y/N], my best friend!”

Before Osamu could speak up against his twin’s concern, you interjected.

“Atsumu,” you began, “We chose each other. We wanted to be with each other.” Your eyes quickly shifted to Osamu, thinking about the fact that you potentially just embarrassed yourself in front of him, only to be met with a gaze that held a warm intensity. A warm intensity that screamed the fact that he felt extreme affection towards you.

Shrugging, you spoke, “If you want to choose someone to blame completely, then it’s me. I basically initiated the whole thing between me and O–”

“No, ya didn’t.” Osamu quickly interjected. “I asked for yer number, and I’m pretty sure that’s what really kick started everythin’.”

“Y’all are really arguin’ about this right now?” Atsumu groaned, leaning back in his chair with a defeated look on his face.

Before you and Osamu could reply back to him, defending yourselves, the meeting room door swung open, revealing Suzuki Dai, one of MSBY’s social media supervisors, who didn’t do the actual posting, but monitored everything. To your surprise, Okada Mayumi, one of MSBY’s main publicists, showed up as well. She usually worked with each player individually, and never in groups.

As the three of you bowed slightly to show respect to your elders, Suzuki feigned a loud sigh, while taking his jacket off.

“Ah, [L/N]! I can’t even say I’m surprised to see you here. You’re just always doing something to negatively affect MSBY. And especially before we have a game coming up? Man…”

You felt your face turn hot, and pinch with resentment. You hated Suzuki, and for all the right reasons. Following his remark, you were about to speak up against him, offering to fight, yet Okada beat you to it, landing a hard slap on his back, catching all of you by surprise.

“Don’t be rude, you fool. She’s already most likely being impaled with negative remarks on social media, and that is way more than somebody can handle mentally. You don’t need to add to the fire!”

You quickly remembered why Okada was one of your favorite people to work with.

As you took your seat in the same place from earlier, adjacent from the Miya Twins, Okada and Suzuki took their seats at the heads of the table, facing the three of you equally.

“Right, so first order of business…” Okada began speaking as she and Suzuki both pulled out their computers, logging in to their accounts.

“What happened? Did Osamu actually have to punch somebody in the club?”

You were about to speak up, ready to tell them everything, but Atsumu beat you to it. “Wait, wait..” he started, waving both of his hands in front of himself. “How could ya tell it was ‘Samu, and not me?”

“Well, even though his back was to the camera in the ‘holding hands’ picture, you can tell it’s him, because of the difference in hair color. It’s obviously not you, Atsumu.”

“But–” He cut himself off, sporting a confused look on his face. “The lighting in the club makes him look like me, right?”

This time, Suzuki spoke. “It’s possible that that could be the reason why everybody thinks it was you who assaulted that guy, but unfortunately, a lot of people don’t use their heads nowadays. I’m not sure if you noticed, but a lot of fans have been responding back to posts from news sources talking about the whole ordeal, defending you.”

Atsumu’s lips formed into an ‘O’ shape, whilst staying mute. Was he really that dumb to the point where he couldn’t recognize himself in pictures? Apparently, that’s what he thought.

“Atsumu, you do know that it wasn’t you in the photo, right?” Suzuki asked, raising an eyebrow towards the blonde setter.

“Oh, yeah of cour–” “No.” You and Osamu answered simultaneously.

Suzuki let out a quiet, yet irritated groan while slowly letting his face fall into the palm of his hand. As Atsumu felt his cheeks turn a light red hue in embarrassment, Okada quickly changed the subject of conversation back to the explanation of what truly happened. You quickly volunteered to tell the story, since it was mainly from your perspective. As all the eyes of the people in the room turned to you, with Okada preparing to type your statement, you inhaled through your nose as an attempt to calm yourself down, and speak with confidence.

“At around midnight, Osamu and I were dancing, and I mentioned that I had to use the bathroom. He offered to walk me there, but I said no. Basically, after I left the bathroom, this guy with botched blonde hair and a tongue piercing started flirting with me in the hallway. I obviously wasn’t interested, and even lied, and told him I had a boyfriend, but he still didn’t leave me alone. He ended up pinning me against the wall, because I guess there was nobody there to really say anything? But anyways, that’s where Osamu came in, and that’s why he punched the guy.”

All four people had different, yet similar reactions. Atsumu stared in horror, Suzuki blinked repeatedly trying to take it all in, Osamu’s gaze softened, filled with understanding, and Okada with a flicker of recognition crossing her eyes as she continued to type, eventually coming to a stop. “I’m sorry that happened to you, [L/N]. Are you all right?” She asked.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“I hate to quickly go from one area of conversation to another, but if we got into communication with Night Time Interference, and asked for surveillance footage of all of that happening to you, would we be able to get it?” Okada questioned once more, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

“Uh, yeah, I–I think so?” You answered hesitantly, looking to Osamu for an actual answer.

“Yeah, there’s cameras in that hallway.” He confirmed for you.

An approving hum left the older female, as she gave Suzuki an expecting look. “Would you mind getting into contact with them now, Suzuki?”

He nodded his head as a response, immediately getting out of his seat, and dialing a specific number as he left the meeting room in haste.

“Alright, now there’s one more main thing that needs to be addressed before we go over the details of what's going to happen in these next few days.”

All three of you turned your full attention to Okada as she clicked on unknown things on her computer. “Since [L/N] and Osamu were seen holding hands, does this mean the two of you are together? Romantically?” She finally focused her attention on both you, and the dark haired man, eyes flickering back and forth between you.

Together, you both answered with a “yeah.”

“Okay. Established relationship?”

Once more, you both answered with a “no.”

“Were you holding hands because it was an act of romance, or for a different reason?”

“Uh, I think partially because I was stumbling, but the other part being romance? I think?” You replied, thinking about your hazy memories of that night.

The rest of the meeting went by quickly in a blur.

To sum it up, Okada fulfilled her part, and ended up explaining that MSBY was going to release a statement mentioning the fact that it was indeed Osamu in the picture, and not Atsumu. If the situation called for it, the obtained video of you being constantly harassed would be posted and used as proof on Osamu’s part (which was okay by you). You eventually were able to show Okada your own written statement on MSBY’s part, which surprisingly to you, was approved by her, and would be used, with a few edits here and there.

After things were cleared, the three of you were dismissed, and ready to head your separate ways with no words exchanged. Atsumu had to head back to practice, Osamu had to head back to work, and you? You believed it was time to finally reconnect with nature, and go for a walk after such a long day.

16:31.

No wonder it was scientifically proven that going for outdoor walks can boost an individual’s mood.

Although you had finished your walk about half an hour ago, you felt much more relaxed, as well as an increased amount of optimism. You weren’t exactly able to label yourself as carefree yet, though. Lingering thoughts of Atsumu and his feelings stuck with you, as you continued to think about how you betrayed him in a way you never thought you would. You weren’t sure what came over you in the moment you were sitting on the toilet, but you had decided it was necessary to apologize once more to your best friend.

You sighed in relief knowing Atsumu would continue to remain friends with you, but at what cost? You didn’t like the idea of him needing his space from you, but if it was what he needed to remain in his zone, especially before game day as it can become extremely stressful, then so be it.

buzz!

You stared at your phone, seeing another text from Atsumu pop up. You intended to ignore it, as you wanted to finish using the bathroom, but surprisingly.

buzz!

buzz buzz!

buzz!

‘5 texts?’ You thought, ultimately deciding to open the messages.

author's notes !

𐙚 okay so [y/n] is not going to lose her job ... sigh

𐙚 i may or may not be uploading a chapter next week , all depending on my school schedule (FUCK exams i'm so dead)

𐙚 reblogs are always appreciated !

taglist: @reuka1 @enepsigosthelast @arwawawa2 @miruac @loveelylani @ohgodthevoices @pickuptruck01 @haechansbbg @nixily @origamipivo @arteful @luv-toruu @mizzmarmar @p4lli @amterasuu

(some tags weren't working!! im so sorry)

27 notes · View notes

woah-were-halfway-there · 10 hours ago

Note

Will you post the piece anytime soon? ☺️

(gif by me)

4 Nations Face Off

A/N: ahhhh I’m so sorry this took me forever to actually write, but I made sure to make it a long one 🥹 here’s a lil updated piece on what the Matthews fam is up to.

I haven't posted any new writing in a time, so I would love to hear what y'all think 🫶🏼

Word Count: 4.8k

“Are you sure?”

Carson looked at the blonde walking next to her and smiled, adjusting her position to accommodate Mia, who was perched on her side and not saying much as she leaned against her mom's shoulder.

“Yes, Steph,” she replied, then stopped. "Go. Celebrate with the Team Canada girls; you deserve it. I’m sure Mitch will be looking for you. We’ll be okay.”

“I know, but,” Steph started, then trailed off. “I guess I just got used to the thought that we’d be celebrating a championship for our guys together. Not that they’d be against each other during it.”

Carson nodded sadly, knowingly, then shook her head as she glanced down at her Team USA hockey jacket.

“Me too. But, it was just for tonight. You know I’m loyal to Canada, but I'm also loyal to my partner and he just lost a big game. We go back to being on the same side tomorrow.”

“Of course.”

Steph gently put her hand on Carson’s arm and squeezed reassuringly, before pulling her and Mia into a hug.

“You’re sure you’re ok if I go?” Steph asked again, giving them an extra squeeze.

“Yes, I promise,” Carson assured as she returned the hug. “I’ve already texted Mitchy, but congratulate him for me again. We’re going to find Auston.”

“Ok, I will. I’ll see you two in a bit. Tell Auston he played great.”

“I will. Now go.”

“Ok, I’m going. Bye, Miss Meems. Love you.”

“Bye-bye, Stephy, love youuuu,” Mia waved to her godmother tiredly as Steph gave Carson one last questioning glance before stepping away from them.

When Carson said nothing else but continued to smile, Steph nodded and went on her way.

Carson watched her friend dodge the people, mainly employees and family members of Team Canada and USA, flooding into the lower hallways of TD Garden. She couldn’t help but smile at the Canadian flag stitched on the back of the red leather jacket Steph wore before she disappeared out of sight, feeling an immense sense of pride and happiness for the guys representing the country she was from following their win at the 4 Nations Face-Off.

She grew up a Canadian hockey fan. Like so many others, Carson had idolized Sidney Crosby for as long as she could remember. Mitch, her cousin and best friend was also part of that winning team, which made it even more special. Canada winning was something that, given any other circumstance, she’d absolutely be celebrating.

However, the man Carson loved was the captain of the team that just lost to the Canadians. She had more ambivalence about this situation than she ever knew possible.

With a sigh, she looked back at Mia and adjusted her higher onto her hip.

“Well, little miss, I think we should go find your daddy,” she suggested.

“Yeah, we see Daddy,” Mia replied nodding, making Carson smile again before she kissed the top of the three-year-old's head and began walking again.

As a lifelong Leafs fan, Carson knew TD Garden was a daunting arena to play hockey in. She’d experienced it as a fan of the opposing team, but this time was entirely different.

Despite how much Carson mentally prepared herself for the 4 Nations Face-Off, she’d be a liar if she said she wasn’t exhausted by all of it. Of course, she knew the entire ordeal was an incredible thing to be able to witness and be a part of. Carson was extremely thankful for the experience, but she also had a nagging thought telling her she was in over her head thinking she’d be able to navigate it all. The Auston and Team USA loss was the unfortunate icing on top of the cake.

The past week was the first time Carson had travelled with both babies since she and Auston brought them from Phoenix to Toronto in late summer. Mia, at just three years old, was fairly used to flying, at least. Carter, on the other hand, was not. Given that the youngest member of the Matthews family wasn’t quite nine months old yet, Carter wasn’t as versed on travel as his older sister was. He hadn’t even experienced an entire hockey season living in Toronto yet, and despite being so young, had already shown his parents how much of a homebody and creature of habit he was.

Which was why only Mia and Carson were at the game that night.

Carter also made the trip to Montreal and Boston with his family, but an 8pm start game on top of being away from home for over a week was too much for the infant. Thankfully, Carson’s brother Nate and his girlfriend Claire met up with the Matthews family in Montreal to help out with the kids. Nate and Claire stayed at the hotel with Carter, babysitting so Carson could attend each of Team USA’s games with Mia to cheer on Auston alongside his parents.

Carson was ridiculously nervous about having someone else watch Carter, even if it was only for a few hours each night Team USA played. It was in no offence to her brother and his girlfriend by any means, either. They were both high on the list of people she and Auston trusted to watch their babies. But, this tournament was also the first time Carson was away from her son for a prolonged time since he was born.

Given the hecticness that occurred when Carter was born with a health scare for both mom and baby, followed by a rough postpartum healing period and a few doctor’s visits in the months after, it was understandable for Carson and Carter to have separation anxiety from each other. This tournament was a test of that, but it was a step Carson wanted to take for herself. She could’ve easily stayed home with Mia and Carter in Toronto while Auston left for a week, but Carson decided to push herself. She wanted to get out of her comfort zone for Mia and Auston, who were also still adjusting to the changes in their lives that a new family member brought on just like her. The 4 Nations Face-Off was important to Auston and Carson wanted to be there.

Having Nate and Claire willing to help out made it all possible.

The first night Carson and Mia headed to the Bell Centre in Montreal to watch Team USA with Auston’s parents while Nate and Claire stayed at the hotel with Carter wasn't easy. Carter was fussy and there was a point where Nate had to text his sister asking where something was. Carson immediately assumed the worst. She didn’t know what was happening at the hotel but knew the item Nate was looking for was a comfort item of Carter’s and that he must’ve been upset if Nate needed to find it. She tried her best not to worry and make it through the remainder of the game but still felt anxious and debated taking Mia back to the hotel despite it only being the 1st intermission.

Luckily, that didn’t need to happen. About five minutes after Carson texted Nate, he responded with a picture of Carter asleep in Claire’s arms saying all was well. The game nights that Carter was watched by his uncle and aunt following that first one went smoothly too. So smooth that there was no hesitation regarding them joining the Matthews family in Boston to continue helping.

Carson and Auston were incredibly thankful to Nate and Claire as the trips to both cities wouldn’t have been possible without them. And wouldn't have eventually led to the night of the final USA vs. Canada matchup at TD Garden where Carson and Mia watched together.

It was strange but amazing for Carson to be part of the type of fans crowding the stands that night. It was the first time she’d ever cheered for anything regarding the USA and sports, especially hockey. She and Auston didn’t know each other the last time he represented Team USA in early 2016. They met that October after he’d begun playing on the Leafs alongside Mitch. This was also the first time she watched her husband and cousin compete against each other instead of being on the same team.

Growing up a Canadian hockey fan, going into this, Carson knew the rivalry between Canada and the USA ran deep. She loved that the 4 Nations tournament sparked excitement in that contention again, but she was conflicted. She wanted Canada to win but also wanted Auston to win. Unfortunately, caring for both sides meant one would lose either way. In this case, the losing side was her husband, and she needed to be there for him.

In the moments following Canada scoring the winning goal in overtime, Carson observed Auston from the stands, already being able to tell how this loss wasn’t an easy one for him. His expression said all she needed to know and it made Carson’s heart ache for the man she loved most.

There were a few moments of silence between Carson and Auston’s parents from where they sat next to her after that final goal horn. Their quietness was only broken when Mia looked up from where she sat on Ema’s lap and asked why her daddy was sad after the cameras showed him on the big screen. The camera displayed how he watched as Team Canada celebrated at the other end of the ice looking utterly defeated. While Mia watched, Brian explained that Auston didn’t win, which made her expression turn from curiosity to concern.

As both teams began forming lines to shake hands, Carson’s in-laws noticed her gazing at one section over where most of the families of Team Canada were celebrating with each other. Amongst the Sea of Canada supporters were members of Carson’s family. Her aunt, uncle, cousin and Steph were all there cheering for Mitch and the rest of the team. Carson was happy for them and Mitch, she really was, but when she looked back at Auston on the ice, she felt sadness all over again.

Ema suggested Carson and Mia go over to them, reminding Carson she was still allowed to be happy about the outcome and that she should let herself have a moment of celebration with the others. Carson was hesitant to do so, but Auston’s parents insisted she go and said they’d meet her and Mia downstairs.

As Carson made her way, carrying Mia to the next section, she was met by Lauren Kyle McDavid who pulled them in for a quick hug before helping them through the crowd so they could get to the Marner family and celebrate.

Eventually, Carson and Mia ended up with Steph in the lower parts of TD Garden before parting ways. However, as they walked through some more hallways together to find Auston, Carson became painfully aware that she had no idea where she was going and started wondering if she should ask for help.

Carson continued walking, still unsure which way she was headed but tried to stay out of other people's way as she passed them. Once she ended up in a completely unfamiliar hallway, she stopped and let out a huff of frustration.

"Mia, I think we might be lost," Carson spoke quietly, making Mia look at her questioningly.

"Where Daddy?" Mia asked, her little brows furrowing as she glanced around the unfamiliar area.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out, bub."

“Mrs. Matthews?”

Carson jumped slightly when a voice hesitantly spoke up from behind her. She didn’t recognize who was speaking, but given the formal way they addressed her, Carson knew she didn’t know them. So, she turned around to face them and smiled politely.

“Oh, hi, yes, hello,” Carson stumbled over her words when she encountered what seemed to be a mother and her children, she assumed given the resemblance between them all. The children's ages ranged from a boy in maybe his preteens to two girls in their late teens or early twenties. They all wore Team USA merch.

“Sorry to bother you,” the woman greeted kindly. “But you seem a little lost. If you’re looking for the area strictly for players' families, it’s this hallway back here.”

Carson smiled wider and shook her head as the lady pointed to a nearby hallway she walked past moments before.

“It’s that obvious I have no idea where I’m going, eh?”

“No! Not at all! Well, maybe a little. The way you were headed leads back to the main concourse, which I assumed you weren’t looking for. We’re Bruins season ticket holders, so we know our way around. We’ve seen a few NHL family members make the same mistake down here. It gets confusing.”

“Always a plus knowing your way around these kind of places,” Carson replied. “Thank you for letting me know before I got even more lost.”

“Of course,” the woman said, smiling then glanced at her kids.

However, before the woman could say anything else, one of her daughters spoke up.

“Are you really Carson Matthews?” She asked. “Like you’re married to THE Auston Matthews?”

“Jess!” The older girl of the three kids gasped, her eyes widening. “You can’t just ask her that.”

“What? We were all wondering about it. Mom wasn’t even sure it was her before she said anything.”

“Jessica, I should’ve sent you to go get the car with your father,” the woman sighed, shaking her head. Then she looked at Carson again. “Please ignore my child. Sometimes, she doesn’t have a filter.”

“It’s alright,” Carson chuckled, observing as the two sisters bickered while their younger brother watched. They reminded Carson a lot of her relationships with her sister and brother. “But to answer your question, yes, I am that Carson. And this is my daughter, Mia. We were just going to see Auston, hoping to cheer him up after the loss.”

Carson glanced at Mia, who’d been quiet the entire interaction while leaning against her mom's shoulder, observing the family of strangers. Mia remained silent but didn’t seem uncomfortable as she began mindlessly fiddling with the collar of Carson’s puffer jacket.

“Woah,” the son said. “That’s so cool.”

“Well, we mustn't keep you then,” the woman stated, smiling again. “It was a tough loss, but Auston played great. We loved seeing him repping the USA.”

“Me too, even as a Canadian,” Carson replied.

“Even though he’s a Leaf, Matthews is one of my favourite players,” the boy spoke, earning slight scowls from his mom and oldest sister.

“Marner and Nylander are mine,” the middle sister chimed in.

“Oh, my god, you’re all so embarrassing,” groaned the oldest sister. “She literally knows all of them.”

Carson laughed when their mother sent her an exhausted look.

“Marner and Nylander are Mia’s favourite Leafs too,” Carson told them, unable to keep a straight face as she laughed. “But we can’t say that to her dad, he’ll be butthurt.”

Everyone laughed with her.

"Well, it was lovely to meet you," the woman replied after a moment, smiling softly. "Please do make sure Auston doesn't beat himself up too much over this loss. He really was such a joy to watch and cheer for, for once."

"Yeah, I'm saving up to get his USA jersey!" The boy stated excitedly, making Carson's heart swell with pride.

"Is that so?" Carson asked, smiling again as the boy nodded. "I think that's a pretty great jersey to own. But, want to know what else I think would look cool with it?"

The boy nodded again.

"Yeah!"

"This."

Carson reached into her purse and grabbed the Team USA hockey puck that Auston signed residing inside of it, to show the boy. No, she didn't normally carry around things Auston signed. During one of the off days in Montreal a week prior, Auston spent some of the afternoon signing items for the NHLPA. When he met Carson, Mia and Carter afterwards, he tossed Carson a puck and teasingly told her it might be worth something one day. Rolling her eyes, Carson put the puck in her purse and didn't think anymore about it.

Each time she opened the purse, she was reminded it was there, but she kept forgetting to take it out. It wasn't until they were away from the hotel again that she realized it was still there. However, seeing how the boy's face lit up when he saw the puck made Carson very happy about not remembering to take it out of her purse earlier that evening.

“Woah,” the boy gasped, his eyes widening. “That’s Matthews’ autograph!”

“It is,” Carson confirmed with a nod, then handed him the puck. “And I think he’d want you to have it."

"Really!?"

"Of course. But it's the only one I've got on me, so you'll have to share it with your sisters."

"Thank you, Mrs! Guys, look."

The three kids huddled together as they observed the puck. Soon they began discussing who would have custody of the item to display in their room, but their mother added her two cents about that first.

"Brave for any of you to assume your father won't be finding a way to have that framed," the woman said, chuckling, then looked back to Carson. "Thank you so much. You didn't have to do that."

"I know," Carson responded. "But I wanted to.”

“You’re very kind, Carson. Kids, what do you say to her?”

“Thank you!” The two daughters said in unison.

“Thank you so much,” the boy exclaimed and before Carson knew it, he was rushing towards her to wrap his arms around her middle in a hug.

The boy's mom gasped and went to say something to him, but Carson mouthed that it was ok, grinning widely as she tried her best to return the gesture with her free arm that wasn't carrying Mia. After a quick embrace, the boy moved away before returning to his mother and sisters, still beaming.

"You're very welcome," Carson responded, then glanced at Mia who was looking up at her, blinking tiredly. "But, we better get going. Our family is probably wondering where we've gone off to."

"Of course," the woman replied. "Thank you again for being so sweet, it means a lot."

Before parting ways, the woman gave Carson the directions of where to find the area for families again, before she and Mia headed on their way.

It didn't take Carson much longer to find where they needed to go after that, and as she rounded one final corner and spotted some significant others and family members of Team USA, she knew she was in the right place.

"Mommy, I want Daddy," Mia pouted, then sighed.

Carson glanced around for any sign of Auston or his parents and also sighed when she couldn’t spot them.

“I know, baby,” Carson hummed in response. “He’s gotta be here somewhere.”

“Carson,” a female voice called, making Carson turn to see Odette, Zach Werenski’s fiancée, smiling as she walked toward her and Mia. "And Miss Mia. I was wondering where you girls went off to."

Carson grinned back and Mia greeted her excitedly.

Since Auston was the only Leafs player on Team USA, the wives and girlfriends of the other guys on the team were a group Carson wasn't familiar with. She'd met a couple of the girls a few times before but didn't know any of them very well. Being one of the first players announced to represent the USA on top of also being the Captain's wife, Carson knew she wouldn't be the only girl in that group who didn't really know anyone else and was set on ensuring none of them felt out of place.

Once the entire USA roster was finalized, Carson got to work on connecting with the girls who would also be cheering on their guys during the tournament. As a Canadian, Carson was the first to admit she had no idea where to start when it came to repping the USA. She was happy to listen to suggestions and ideas from the other girls regarding plans for things like where to go for a group dinner before one of the games and design ideas for their matching jackets. They all got along very well with each other and Carson was glad she was able to develop a relationship with other player's significant others from around the league.

Odette was one of the girls she really hit it off with. The two of them grew quite close over the two-week tournament to the point that even Mia grew a bit of an attachment to the Blue Jackets star defenseman's fiancée.

"Hey," Carson greeted. "Sorry, I know, we kinda disappeared. I got a little lost after going to see my family and some of the Canadian girls."

"Not surprising," Odette chuckled. "This place feels like a labyrinth. I would've been lost without Alessandra and Kiley."

"Honestly. They were godsends with their recommendations and help around Boston."

"I'm sure you two would've given us the same hospitality had we all been in Toronto or Columbus," another female voice chimed in. It was Alessandra, who was standing nearby with the Swayman family.

"Exactly," stated Kiley, as she walked by. Despite Charlie, her husband, being injured during an earlier game and the two of them welcoming their son just a couple of weeks before the tournament began, Kiley still was very involved and even made the time to watch the final game.

"Yeah, I can give real good tips on how not to be jump scared by the cannon in Columbus too, if you need it," Odette teased, making everyone who was nearby laugh, before she looked back at Carson and Mia. "I assume you're both looking for Auston."

"We are," Carson replied. "Have you seen him?"

"Not yet, but the guys should start coming out here any minute now. Come wait with me and Zach's family so you're not standing over here alone."

Carson smiled at Odette in thanks, then followed her to where the Werenski family was standing.

While they waited, Carson chatted with Zach's family about the game as well as their travel plans about flying back home since the regular NHL season would be resuming in the coming days. Odette wasted no time taking Mia from Carson, holding her as they stood there talking, which Mia sure wasn't opposed to.

After about five minutes, guys from the team began trickling into the area all of their families were waiting. When Zach approached them, Carson told him how great he played before giving Odette a quick hug and taking Mia back so they wouldn't interfere with their family regrouping.

A few more minutes passed, and Carson observed the girls she'd spent so much time planning and coordinating with over the past almost two months, who immediately became a rock for their guys. They were all there, ready and willing to pick up the pieces following such a devastating loss. It was a notion Carson was all too familiar with and she smiled fondly while watching the other girls, knowing they were all just one big support system.

"Mama," Mia said as she lifted her head from Carson's shoulder and patted her arm. "Look! It's Daddy."

Carson's gaze immediately followed where Mia was pointing further down the hallway and there was Auston, entering the area with his parents not far behind. His warm brown eyes met hers instantly and he smiled sadly. Compared to when he left the hotel earlier that day, his deep blue suit and hair sticking out from under his beanie were way more dishevelled. He looked utterly beat and Carson's feet began taking her towards him without a second thought.

"It sure is, baby," Carson told Mia as she stepped around the other families. "Do you want to go get him?"

"Yeah!"

Knowing exactly what that meant, Carson stopped briefly to set Mia down on the ground and watched as she sprinted towards her dad as fast as her little legs could take her. Auston's expression noticeably lit up as he watched Mia approach. Once she was close enough, he grinned widely and crouched down so that she could run into his arms. He wasted no time scooping her up and Carson continued toward them, feeling emotionally at the way Mia snuggled right into him.

"What are you still doing up, Mini?" Auston asked, looking at their toddler with a stern gaze. "It's way past your bedtime."

"She had her headphones on and everything, but was too focused on the game and forced herself to stay up," Carson explained as she approached them.

"I see," Auston replied, then he looked at Carson, and his gaze softened again. "Hey, you."

"Hey," she greeted, then, without another word, crashed into him and hugged him tightly. He held her just as tight with his arm that wasn't holding Mia. "I’m so proud of you, Auston, and I’m sorry it didn’t end the way you were hoping. How are you? Are you ok?"

After asking him if he was ok, Carson leaned back to look up at her husband with a serious expression. It was no secret that Auston had been dealing with an injury for most of the season. He missed quite a few games for the Leafs because of it and even received treatment overseas in hopes of making it more manageable. The details of the injury weren’t public knowledge but of course, Carson knew. She was very aware of how much he was pushing himself to be there for his team and take part in the 4 Nations Tournament, which had her constantly worried.

“Yes, Carse, I’m fine,” he replied, not expanding on any details. However, the look on his face said otherwise.

“Auston-.”

“I know, babe. I know. I’m not trying to stress you out, I promise. Let’s talk about it after we leave.”

“Ok, as long as you’re alright,” Carson responded, then squeezed him again. She knew he’d talk to her more about everything without so many people around.

Auston kissed the top of her head, then turned his attention to Mia.

"Did you have a fun night with Mommy?" He asked.

"Yeah," she nodded, then her expression turned serious. "Daddy, you didn't win."

Carson's mouth fell open in shock at her abruptness, then she looked at Brian and Ema, who also seemingly didn't know what to say regarding Mia's response.

Auston, naturally, handled it like a champ. He exhaled calmly and held their daughter's gaze.

"What was that, bub?"

"You didn't win."

Auston shook his head, the slightest smile tugging at his lips.

"I didn't?"

"No… My Mitchy winned."

"Mia, honey," Carson started because she didn't want Mia to make the loss more challenging, unintentionally, but stopped when Auston glanced at her again.

"It's ok," he assured before looking back at Mia. "You're right, your Mitchy did win."

"Is that who wanted to win, Mimi?" Carson asked.

Mia shook her head.

"I didn't want Mitchy to win," she answered.

"That's alright," Auston told her, smiling. "We can be happy for Mitchy."

The two of them looked at each other for a moment while Mia just blinked, then she wrapped her arms around her dad's neck in a hug.

"You want Whaley, Daddy?"

Auston chuckled and began rubbing her back.

"Would you like me to have Whaley?"

Mia nodded and stayed leaning against Auston.

"I've got him," Ema spoke, then pulled Mia's whale plushie out of her bag and handed it to Carson.

"Leave it to our kid to be the one humbling you after a game like that," Carson said as she passed Whaley to Auston.

"The only better than her at humbling me is her mother," Auston teased, making Carson roll her eyes.

"I don't think anyone would expect anything less from your two's child," Brian said, chuckling.

"Good thing she's cute," Carson stated then winked at Mia, who smiled cheekily before hiding against her dad's shoulder.

"Got that right," Auston agreed, noticeably in better spirits than when first reuniting with his girls in that hallway. "Well, I think we should head back to the hotel since a little guy is waiting there for us. What do you say, Mini?"

"Uncle Natey?" Mia asked, perking right up again.

"Not who I was thinking of. But, yeah, Uncle Nate is there too."

"One of these days she'll actually be excited about seeing her baby brother," Carson sighed. "Nate is tough competition, I suppose."

"That's alright, more loving on Carter for me," Ema said, smiling.

"Shall we?" Auston asked Carson while holding his arm out to loop hers through.

"Lead the way," she replied while looping her arm with his, then leaned against his shoulder as they began walking together.

As they headed toward a nearby exit, Carson glanced around at the other families still lingering nearby and waved goodbye to those she knew as they passed. Odette called out again, reminding Carson that just because the tournament was over didn't mean she could get rid of her that easily. Carson laughed in response and left TD Garden feeling extra grateful for her crazy hockey life.

#auston matthews fanfiction #auston matthews imagines #nhl writing #auston matthews imagine #hockey imagine #hockey writing

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cementcornfield · 3 months ago

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Some of Tee and Ja'Marr's thoughts on the Tee Situation

Tee said to me 'right now I get to play with one of the, if not the, best quarterbacks in the game, I get to play with one of, if not the, best wide receivers in the game, that opens up so much more for me.' And then he said 'this offense is designed for so many different players to be spotlighted, the way that I am used in this offense so plays to my strengths.' And then he said to me, 'can you guarantee I can have that exact situation anywhere else?'

....

So do I think he's taking a home discount? No. But I do think that he is very very smart, he sees the whole picture out there...

....

It's very easy to compare this situation to what Ja'Marr had at LSU with Joe Burrow and Justin Jefferson. And Ja'Marr has said Tee is very different than Justin Jefferson. That every single minute with Justin Jefferson was a competition. That everything was who makes the more dynamic catch, who has more catches in practice, who runs faster? Everything was that way. Ja'Marr had to speak up and demand the ball a lot at LSU, because so was Justin. Ja'Marr told me that he doesn't have to do that in Cincinnati because Tee, and this is a quote from Ja'Marr, is one of the most unselfish humans you'll ever meet.

#VERY VERY INTERESTING STUFF #also fuck evan this guy is so annoying he KEPT interrupting her through her whole segment and then smiled all condescending like #'what about the money you idiot woman'#and it's like YES the money IS a good point #this could easily all just be talk from tee and ja'marr #because tee DOES deserve all the money he can get #he DOES also deserve the chance at being WR1 if that's what he wants #(he has always done well as WR1 when ja'marr is out/hurt)#so like yes. those are important caveats.#that can definitely be talking points without evan's annoying ass comments and interruptions and looks #(like dude are you not also just some sideline reporter? no need to act like you're better than aditi. BUT WHATEVER)#very interesting considerations! that tee is aware of all the good of his current situation #and may not want to change it at all??#again. could just be saying shit. actions speak louder than words and all that #but the action of dropping your agent (who has the BEST track record of getting guaranteed money) only to go to the agent of the guy #who the front office is going to try to leverage your negotiations against #is like. well. that feels very very deliberate!!#that these two are going to put up a united front. to try to do their best to stay together AND get paid.#which sounds too good to be true tbh!#and then ja'marr comparing his relationship with justin and his relationship with tee!!#both important relationships! both beautiful connections!#and like. justin and ja'marr NEEDED that kind of relationship in college #one of support and competition. pushing each other to be their best. so that they could come into the league #and break all these records almost immediately #and then now a more settled relationship with tee. calmer softer maybe.#that post about how important relationships that let you REST are #man. man. i could go on forever about all of this but this is already too much!!!#tee higgins #ja'marr chase #cincinnati bengals

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quietwingsinthesky · 1 year ago

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no wonder missy is insane about him. she just mindmeld trauma bonded with him and got confirmation through him that she was right the whole time about the thing that happened to her, AND then they traded life-saving moments. of course she wants her friend back. she needs him to see her again, as clearly as he did in that moment. she needs him to be like her, because among time lords, she is alone, but with the doctor, she isn’t.

#and also he looks like peter capaldi now and she wants to fuck that old man so bad #missy is very. masterlike in her affections. of course she is. but she’s also so so sincere about them too?#its jarring compared to simm!master because you have similar moments right u have like. ‘oh davros is your archenemy now? ill scratch his #eyes out.’ and yeah i could see simm!master saying that same thing same tone. because they are both freaks about the doctor #but this is the same scene where she tells the doctor he’s walking into a deathtrap and when he doesn’t back down. she walks into it with #him. it’s like she made a decision at some point that Of Course They’re On The Same Side Now.#that’s why she offers him the cybermen. that’s why she gives him clara. this is their side and it’s going to be the side that. if the #hybrid shit had come together as expected. would have destroyed gallifrey. and then there would be no time lords. just them. and they would #not be alone because of this.#and the thing is that. again havent started s10 im getting to it. but the thing is that missy decided this was true.#the doctor is not on the same page as her at all.#and that’s why its soooo! okay <3 break my heart forever then <3 #the doctor thinks missy has to earn. has to work at. being on his side. and missy thinks she already is and that it’s so so obvious.#u understand?#missy dw #the master #doctor who

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scattered-winter · 8 months ago

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every day i kick a rock and bash my head into the wall because i'll never get to go on a big space adventure and become tightly close-knit with my new found family up there <//3

#re lrb..........#i mean realistically if i was in the voltron/quintenary stars universe chances are i would probably NOT be one of the people #going on the space adventure.#i'd be roped into the plot when the aliens invade and earth almost gets destroyed. spoilers for arc 2 btw sorry #but man. child soldierism aside i wish that were me so so so bad #sadly kicks a rock when will EYE have a deep and mystical connection with a giant ancient cat :(#its not even that i want to interact with the main cast bc i dont really i just. wanna be in their position man #i think one of the reasons why voltron grabbed me so hard (among MANY) is how badly i wanted to do what the main characters did #i remember when i was first watching it while it was coming out i would CONSISTENTLY daydream about being launched into space #with a handful of other people and having to fight a war and grow up far away from home and all the suffocating stuff that came with it #and then coming back years later already solidly knowing who i am and being confident in that #so i'd actually be brave enough to be unapologetic about it. and i'd be found family with the people i went to space with also #that parts important #idk man just. i dont like saying i was abused when i was younger because i really dont think it was like that and it isnt even close to #what how people who have really been abused have had to go through #but sometimes i really do wonder. like now that im (mostly) out and able to review everything with an outside perspective #not even getting into the cult survivorism stuff this is JUST family dynamics im talking about here #bc that shit is a whole other can of worms #i think my parents were genuinely doing the best they could with the cards they were dealt but. jesus christ.#i would have given ANYTHING to be able to run away from all that. and throw magic cats into the equation? brother im GONE #anyway this tags ramble has derailed in a MAJOR way. tldr i wanted to be a paladin sooooo fuckign bad bro #like it actually makes me SICK how much i want a lion. red you are my forever girl even if only in my heart <///3 #i still do want to do all that out of principle but its not as desperate now i just really love space and really want a big kitty friend #winter speaks

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fragmentedblade · 1 year ago

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Fu Xuan calls March "young girl", which is understandable. But she also calls Chengjie "young man from the Artisanship Commission" and like... ma'am how old are you

#I know she is way older than she looks and given the lore she definitely isn't very young even for Xianzhou standards #Chengjie has been in the Artisanship Commission for two hundred years before we met him so he must be considerably older than that #This post really has no point other than to point this out because it's kind of funny #And it's clear that Fu Xuan is an adult woman but it makes her look ancient xD #Which tbh also makes sense. She definitely gives that air. She gives that air even to Qingque to some extent #Fu Xuan refers to Chengjie the same way Master Gongshu did‚ basically #You see her there and she talks to Chengjie as if he were a very young man. He is well over two hundred years #It's so funny and so... strange also compared to the other long-life species in the Xianzhou #Yukong is a mature woman. If it weren't for her lifespan‚ Fu Xuan would consider her a 'young girl'#I wonder if this strains the relationships between species somewhat #It seems it does. We see glimpses of that several times I think‚ like in the Poetic Genius Ingenium quest #The vidyadhara's love is always fresh and passionate and new and really can go on forever even if under different faces #But the Xianzhou native gets tired and drained and old #I don't know. I find this very interesting tbh. I understand them not being able to dwell on it for longer in the game #(longer than they already did) but it's so interesting to think about and how it could shape society in all its forms #I talk too much #I should probably delete this later

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arundolyn · 11 months ago

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hot(?) guilty gear take:

danger time is fun and not nearly as bad a mechanic as some people like to claim. they're just salty when they lose to it

#crow.txt #like its a really hype mechanic. its fun to watch and tbh never bugged me that much to experience #granted i didnt go to tourneys ever but like #idk. both opponents are given the same things. is it kinda a reaction time game? certainly. but thats like all of fighting games #idk why its so Irredeemably Awful to a lot of players who probably never even play in tourneys they just like regurgitating the same things #repeatedly forever bc its the internet and predominantly reddit #even if the argument is that some matchups are skewed unfairly (like slayer pilebunkering repeatedly) i mean.... yeah? thats like #the fucking crux of fighting games. its not specific to danger time. you can make that argument about literally anything #you could make that argument about certain overdrive mechanics in blazblue #i can see how it would be frustrating in a tourney but if youre getting THAT big mad about losing this specific way then.. man idk #is it that different than being beaten normally. not really #the real unspoken bullshit mechanic is being able to instant kill functionally whenever you want. THATS the tourney killer #its unrealistic in the vast majority of scenarios but like... at least with like every other game. blazblue and unib #you have to EARN it at least a little. yeah the consequences of whiffing are major but also with stun in xrd it can be easier to land #even when someone is a huge dick about astralling me in blazblue i dont get nearly as tilted about it as i would #at getting hit by a bs instant kill setup like first round in xrd. are you kidding me. holy shit #at least astrals have to be match point. you literally Do have to earn it. unib you yourself have to be half dead rather than the opponent #being able to instant kill just Whenever feels so much cheaper #getting off my soapbox for an opinion nobody asked for. even tho strive damage is already crazy insane #danger time was a fun mechanic and idk a danger time mod might be funny. never seen anything quite like it but thats true of a lot of gg #only guy on earth who misses danger time apparently

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elegyofthemoon · 1 year ago

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tbh i think i just need to get into a media thatll shake me to my core the way me revisiting p//andora hearts at a crucial time shook me

#nothing will top how ph means a lot to me seriously adklfakdah #i can talk forever about why oz means a lot to me but why would i do that actually thatd be terrible adslkjfahl #if you need a character thats very very essential to me its oz honestly alsjkdfalkjs #i feel like thats REALLY ALL YOU NEED everyone else is just little snippets #but anyways!#some evil part of my brain is like 'hon//kai can be that for you and im fighting for my life'#'its not allowed to.'#i mean i was already feeling it with ch 9 ex bro i had to go lay down watching kiana in that chapter holy fuck man asdlkfjahl #but yeah idk i feel like....if i was able to dedicate more time to finishing up pt 1 i think honkai COULD have that potential. i sense it #it gives me the same levels of interest as like p//andora hearts and n//ier so 👀#but yeah anyways. i just need something to shake my life from its pedestal #thats another thing i kinda miss #i think its just that bc of how much all this has drained me #its been harder to really enjoy things that i ACTUALLY enjoy doing #the only thing i got going for me are my dumb comics bc thats low energy + i dont care if it looks super bad theyre funny to me #i guess i just miss being super passionate about interests #augh #snow speaks #i am feeling a lot better now but ig thats only if i just focus on doing things i like

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hobismilitarywife · 2 years ago

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#//ramble #it’s hard for us of course but it’s the hardest for hobi himself #this man worked constantly in this new solo period because not only was this one amongst the very first chances where he was getting the #opportunity to showcase his skills apart from the ones that people already knew about #but also to indulge in things he wanted to do #he is so ambitious but at the same time he is also very hardworking #he makes his plans and dreams come true and that requires a lot of hardwork from his side #he’s been working non stop since forever #and now this period of inactivity must feel so alien to him :(#it’s absurd how they’re just required to give 1.5 years of their lives to military #i could see from his face how much all of this has affected him :(((#he also apologised to us and also to a lot of his closed ones for being less active during this time #because he truly needed time to process the fact that he won’t be able to work for sometime that he won’t be able to do what he loves #for the next 18 months #id been so selfish for the past few days asking him to upload more at least before he leaves while he was dealing with his own emotions;-;#he shouldn’t have to say sorry to fans for this i should :((((#i know that it is going to be a bit hard for someone like him to suddenly undergo such a big lifestyle change #but i really really from the bottom of my heart hope that he’s able to adjust nicely #that he doesn’t face anyyyy difficulties whether big or small #and has a smooth experience + transition #hobi we your fans shall always wait for you <3 #also this solo period was so necessary for hobi as an artist to grow #before as well he had fans but during this time i saw a few fake fans leave but at the same time he gained so many true passionate fans who #actually care about him and his artistry #and he needed that imo #if only bh gave their albums equal treatment cause rn the bias is off the charts #also rn the album releases are like a race #they’re all being released so quickly one after another i really do not like this method :/#all this for an ot7 cb…i miss ot7 so much as well but i think they all should be given the chance to spread their wings equally first…i can #wait for the ot7 cb

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adiadagaki · 17 days ago

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babyfever!satoru who nearly explodes when your baby bump starts to come in. He buys you a ton of little crop tops to show it off even though it is winter and you’d rather not walk around with your swollen belly out.

babyfever!satoru splurges on your doctors appointment (personal and related to the baby). He makes sure any medication you need for pain, morning sickness or headaches is in your hands before you can say ‘I feel ill Toru’. And those scans that can make you see the baby in your tummy in 3D? Oh, he would pay millions for you to experience that, so dont act surprised when he pulls out his black card.

babyfever!satoru warps to get your cravings to you as soon as possible, he doesn’t need his pretty little wife stressed for any longer than she needs to be. But don’t mistake it for him letting you eat whatever you want, all of your meals will be made by him and full of all the nutrients you need.

babyfever!satoru knew the gender before you were even pregnant, but his six eyes blessed him with absolute confirmation. But, because you were excited for the scan he waited to tell everyone else until after the doctor confirmed it.

babyfever!satoru drags you to parenting classes so he makes sure he has all the practice he needs. The poor man isn’t worried about you at all, he know you’ll pick it up with ease he could only hope to replicate.

babyfever!satoru who talks to your baby bump like his son is already in his arms. His reason? He needs to bond with the baby in any way he can so they have a healthy relationship. Satoru has always warned you, if he was going to be a dad, he was forever holding the title of No1.

babyfever!satoru becomes more and more impatient every, single, day. He just wants to meet your perfect baby and it eats away at him more and more as the months pass.

“And how much longer?” He asks the nurse as he rubs his large hand over your forever growing bump.

The nurses smile strains, he has asked her this question at least 100 times over the course of the pregnancy. She was probably considering changing career paths.

“Mr Satoru, the expected date hasn’t changed, it is still May 17th.”

Two entire more months.

He pouted all the way home.

babyfever!satoru sleeps with most of his body draped over yours, shielding your body from any risks during sleep. Not that you’d ever be in danger with the strongest by your side, but it is a worry in his head and it is the only way for him to sleep.

babyfever!satoru spends thousands on all sorts of equipment to optimise your comfort. Baby brace? You have one in every colour? Back support pillows? You have three for every room in the house. Clothes? He has a brand new wardrobe for you.

babyfever!satoru already has a massive pile of push presents for you.

babyfever!satoru who isn’t sure he can wait another minute.

Part 1 Part 3

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x you #jujutsu gojo #gojo fluff #gojo saturo #gojo x y/n #jjk satoru #jujutsu satoru

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tonycries · 5 months ago

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WILD WILD WILD

Synopsis. No time like the first time, and his first time with you is enough to drive a man wild wild wild.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, first time fúcking you, PÚSSYDRUNK BOYS, BRÉEDING, pússy-slápping, creampíes, true form!Sukuna, dp, GOJO’S POWERS, mentions of having kíds, spítting, praise, cúmplay, vírginíty loss (Choso), proposals, slight chokíng, slightly mean Geto, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Hoping you all have a lovely lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Oh baby, baby.

You’ve made it about five absolutely shattered condoms before Toji simply growls and flips you over with such a branding slap! to your cunt - as if it was your fault he hasn’t gotten to ravage his pretty girl already.

Running his tongue over that sinful scar on his upper lip, he’s spreading your puffy pussy lips open with a slow swipe of his thick thumb. Mouth just salivating at that easy, languid trickle of your sweet sweet juices glossing down his wrist.

“Wouldn’t have even tried so hah- hard with those goddamn rubbers if I knew what ya were holdin’ out on me, doll.” Toji jeers from above, jostling your dangling legs even tighter around his slender waist. Before planting a drippingly wet smack! smack! smack! of his swollen, reddish tip right on the peak of your sensitive clit. “Just look at how drenched that makes ya.”

“Toji–” your honeyed, dragged-out whine makes him just twitch on top of you. Squirming at the way that has him gushing out a saturated puddle of sweltering hot precum onto your pre-soaked cunt. “Won’t you just put it in alre- ah!”

And Toji’s so fucking mean with the way he inches in just the very curve of his fat tip past your gummy entrance, shutting up those cute complaints on your tongue for the most delicious whine he’s ever heard.

“Heh, there we go. Finally- finally.” he gruffs out, moving over the grip of his long digits around his thickened base to wrap around your splayed-out thighs. Such an awful tease - making you do all the work shuffling down the silken sheets trying to milk his achy shaft. “Ohhh yeah- oh my god, there we fuckin- go-”

A particularly harsh clench of your velvety walls makes him throw his head back deliriously. Hoarse, baritone moans wrenching from his chest, “Yeah- you were so fuckin’ holding out. Heh, didn’t know it could feel so good. Feels like heaven, ma. Think I could fuck this cunt for forever-” He drags a hazy kiss down your lips, “Could fuck a baby into ya-”

“Hngh! I-if it-” you’re managing to mewl out, blinking back the big fat tears in your eyes to wrap your limp arms around his neck. “-if it feels so good then why aren’t you fucking me properly.”

Another heated smack! has the imprint of all five fingers of his raising on your flesh, and Toji just shoveling the rest of his long, solid inches into your clingy insides. And- shit, he’s so jaw-droppingly massive. No matter how many times you’ve seen him, taking him is a whole other feeling.

Fuck. This was heaven.

He grunts, “Might be the first time but yer suckin’ me up so- well.”

It’s like your poor pussy was gaping around him, being molded along every tiny crevice of his cock. That slight upwards curve was just spearing into the very spongy depths of your cervix head-on, drawing wet, glossy glides across your g-spot.

You were finally, finally being fucked by him.

And it was maddening.

“Say that again, doll?” he quirks his head down at you after a few heaving breaths to try and stop that pathetic cracking of his words. “Because I think you were hah- s-saying something.” Each word is punctuated by a ruthless thrust, making a sloppy mess of your insides until you could feel the thundering throb of his pumping cock, the sticky thwack of his cum-filled balls on your ass. Toji leans down until his entire body weight was pinning you against the damp mattress, holding you hostage to the way he tugs on your ear lobes with his sharp canines. “Or are ya just too hngh- cockdrunk for it already?”

Smack!

As if you could speak.

Jaw dangling open, hulking body hunched over, his big beefy arms cage you in. “Awww, come on now. Answer me. Don’t tell me you were ah- beggin’ for my cock so badly for weeks n’ won’t even gimme your pretty compliments?”

You’re barely even able to keep up with his syrupy sweet words, locking your ankles around his waist.

Toji hisses when that slight movement has him jolting even rougher against the bulbous bullseye of your sweet spots. “I-I didn’t-”

“I-I-I didn’t-” he snickers against your lips, swiveling his hips into slow sultry swirls until his fat girth was dragging his prominent veins along all your sweet spots. You’re just keening at that, making your back arch up sluttily into Toji’s muscled chest. “Honestly. If all it took was my ngh- d-dick to make you forget those good girl manners, I’d have done this- much- sooner-”

He’s babbling out just as deliriously as you no matter how much he’d like to pretend he isn’t. Because oh Toji Fushiguro was no match for your pretty pussy.

No match for the way each of his ramming thrusts had every shred of rationality flying out of his honeyed mind, puffs of breath coming out more feverish. Heavier. Words slurring and jumbling together at every fresh coat of your slippery slick down his raw length.

“Shit.” His eyes lock on your utterly fucked-out expression, he can’t even bring himself to look downwards at how well you’re taking him. “Let’s see how much of a cockdrunk slut ya really are- open that mouth, ma.”

And Toji could almost laugh at how readily your spit-glossed lips sag open for him. Taking it all in one go when he spits out a hot, steady stream of spit right onto your pink taste buds.

“Yeahh, heheh-” he’s grinning darkly, feeling his tight balls squeeze painfully. Gliding the soft pad of his thumb down that translucent trickle of drool along the corner of your mouth. “Now swallow.” Rock-hard tip mashing against your g-spot in a way that only makes you head his instructions without a second thought.

“Good. Now you realize-” His rough hands wrangle your boneless legs on top of his broad shoulders, bending down, down, down into the meanest mating press possible. “-that I was serious about fuckin’ a baby into ya, right?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - “Marry m- take it.”

“Ken- Ken–” your sultry mewls only grow louder, batting those teary eyes up at where Nanami’s got you folded into the firmest little mating press he’d allow himself. “I want more.”

Oh, and he thinks he could pass out. He thinks he’s stopped breathing. Nanami thinks with all his bleary head and his achy, furious dick that he’s going to marry you right here, right now on these expensive silken sheets.

He’s leaning in close enough to kiss his forehead against yours, sweat-slicked lips clashing into yours in a way that makes your knees weak. Hushing out, “Shhh, s’alright, my love.” And his tone is so sweet that you almost forget the absolutely mean way Nanami was splitting you apart. Your sopping pussy bulging out at the intrusion of his fat, hot girth. “Good girl, takin’ me so well for the first time. Tell me- hah- tell me where.”

And all you can do is dazedly guide his massive hand along your tummy, so warm and comforting. Pressing down where he gets to the lewd little nudge of his thick tip, sheathing in deeper and deeper and-

“H-here–” you’re mewling, big fat tears streaming down your eyes now. Ones that he wastes absolutely no time licking long, languid stripes to taste. He groans at the salty flavor. “Can feel you right here, Ken. Didn’t- hngh- didn’t think you’d be in so- deep-”

Those simple words have Nanami’s body shivering, sucking in a deep, shuddering inhale when his leaky tip just twitches. Convulsing in a jagged little line along the spongy crevice of your sweet spots, he huffs out an exasperated laugh. “What did ya expect, darling?” He purrs, tucking his face into the sensitive crook of your neck. “M’gonna be in even deeper soon y’know-”

And if you thought that he was already rummaging inside you brandingly, he was barely even halfway in yet.

“Shhh you got this.” Feeding you inch after inch, it’s like it was never-ending. You’ve never been stretched out to this extent ever before, having your cunt all gaping and spread wide open for him. Nanami didn’t even have to crane his head to eye down at you glistening hole, winking up at him sluttily. Just filling you to the brim, the very tip of his drooling cock shoves against your g-spot in an addicted little kiss. Each collision has you slamming further and further up the bed, struggling. Because while Nanami Kento acted the part of a gentleman - his achy dick sure didn’t.

You hips jerk so prettily when he runs a calloused thumb over the very peak of your neglected clit. “You alright, my love? Need-”

“More!” you cut him off with such a cute whine. And it makes his cock act in a way he’d be almost embarrassed about, puncturing deeply into your plushy walls. Leaving a harsh sting of the very divot on his thick tip along your cervix. But it still wasn’t enough. “Please- Wan’ more more more- faster, Ken.”

By now, Nanami knew he was going to marry you.

Oh, how he was going to fuck you exactly like this on your wedding night. And every night after that and after that and-

“Fuck, I love you-” he sputters out, stealing a few lingering kisses on your needy lips. Depraved. Filthy. Bruising with just how fast he was pistoning into you. “Love you love you- gonna marry you, y’know?” His eyes roll to the back of his head, head throwing backwards when you clench. “Gonna buy us a house, make y’my pretty wife- ah- fuck fuck fuck-”

Whatever’s left of Nanami’s rationality knows how ridiculous he sounds - the first taste of his pretty wife- well, future wife’s pussy and he’s already babbling about marriage. Fuck.

But you only kiss him back as drunkenly as ever, hungry. Bucking your hips up in a wild way for more. “Mhm- wan’ you to- ah- fuck–” Drool drips down the corner of your mouth, and your eyes are drooping such after every smashing kiss against your g-spot. It’s all you can do to whimper, “M’so close ah- think m’so–”

“Me too-” he grits out, jaw clenching. “Me too me too- hah-”

The raspy baritone of his voice shakes with the incessant smack! smack! smack! of his painfully heavy, cum-filled balls against your skin. Riotous and relentless. Only accompanied by your sweet ah! ah! ah! and those slurping noises from below.

“Cum inside me, Ken-” you moan, voice shaking into a whine. “Don’ want you to waste a drop, p-please cum inside-”

“Then take it-” he gasps out. He’s clinging onto you so tight, so deep. Fingers moving before his useless mind when his thumb grows steadily sloppier on your clit. Tight circles patterning into a rapid M-A-R-R-Y-M-E-M-A-R-R-Y-M-E-M-A- “Take it like my ah! good lil’ wife.”

And you don’t know who’s cumming first, but it only takes a few more throbbing strokes before Nanami just fills you to the brim with all his warmth. It seeps out of you - thick, velvety ropes of his potent seed that can’t stop spewing from his furious, weepy tip. So red and jolting with each of your constricting squeezes.

You gasp, waves of your own high crashing into you over and over with every piston of his hips. And leftovers of Nanami’s cum gushes out of you with each buck of your needy ips.

“O-oh my god-” you’re whimpering, dragging your nails down his flexingly broad back. Babbling away cockdrunkenly, “How am I so- full ah-”

Nanami heaves out ragged sighs, pulling out his twitchy tip ever-so-slightly to let his cum form a glossy sheen of milky white between your legs. And he’s so gone, so utterly fucked-out when he swipes his thumb across that creamy puddle. Bringing it up to plug it into your slack-jawed mouth, “Think I s-skipped a few steps into making you a pretty momma before I made you my pretty wife, darling.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - KEEP UP!

“Is that-” Geto hisses, gritting his teeth ferociously, and it’s all he can do to not just throw his head back pussydrunkenly. To all but grip your trembly thighs in two of his rough hands, peering up at you through long, dark lashes. “Is that all you got, gorgeous?”

The only response he gets are your hips grinding down in sticky swivels to smack against his toned ones. Geto’s thighs come up behind you to just squeeze your glissading body, gyrating up even deeper.

“W-well–” you whine at his mean smirk, your hands greedily dancing upwards to smooth and knead all over his pale, sculpted skin. “-you’re not doin’ any ah- better-”

Fuck, was that the understatement of the year.

It was only the first time Geto was sinking into your sweet, sweet pussy and he’s already so fucked-out. So hungry for more with the way his hips just up ravenously, heady scent making your head spin. Making his head spin - the only thing on his mind right now being why the fuck didn’t he fuck this pretty cunt of yours sooner?

“Heh, thought you said you weren’t all that affected, Sugu?” you’re giggling smugly, which only makes his rosy lips slack open. Wet, gurgling moans being wrenched out with each snap of his hips. It’s only then that you realize - he didn’t even mean to say that out loud. “Wait- You’re not serious, are you?”

“Shut up.”

That vice-like hold on the plush of your hips turns bruising, Geto’s entire body just wracking with a violent shudder until he’s sitting upwards. Hauling you along with him to be splayed out all prettily on his lap, mashing his lips in a simpering kiss.

“Shut up shut up shut-” he spits against your glossy pout. The only thing he can do is thrust, letting his mouth foam with each rut into your sopping wet walls. Growing harder and harder with each jiggle of your ass against his tightly thwacking balls. “Shut up n’ just let hah- let this cunt speak for herself, m’kay?”

His words catch you by surprise, and the relentless squelch! squelch! squelch! of your slobbering cunt rings in your ears.

You lean down to kiss the very tips of Geto’s reddening ears, “So mean.”

At your pouty huff, he bullies in two of his fingers into your drunkenly slacking mouth. Forcing you to suck. To shut up. “So mouthy.” he spits. “So so–”

Geto trails off with a guttural groan, big beefy arms wrapping around your convulsing body until he has you pinned to him like some perfect cocksleeve. He’s whining, “Oh, I can’t- I can’t I-”

And before you know it, he’s pulling out all at once, leaving you whimpering at the hasty drag of his thick cock down your clingy walls. Missing him already.

“I can’t- I need to-” Snap! Geto’s rock-hard dick only engorges even bigger when he tugs on the thin rubber condom covering it, the slap of cool hair mixed with your syrupy sweet juices driving him wild. Rubbing his angrily raw length along your drenched slit, “Please- let me. I need to feel ya for real, please, gorgeous.”

“Yes.” you mewl. “Yes yes yes-”

He’s purposefully leaning backwards on the mattress to shove every inch of himself into your deepest, most sensitive depths. Rummaging his weepy erection inside you until he’s kissing wetly against your sweet spots. And even through his slender fingers hitting at the back of your throat, your whimpers get louder. Pitching up higher. More slutty.

“Hah- ya scream even with my fingers hah- inside your pretty mouth.” His nose breathes a slow, delicate trail down your thundering pulse. “And you say I’m the one fucked-out with jus’ one t-taste.”

He stutters. Geto Suguru stutters.

The one always so sharp with his tongue, and quick with his words can’t stop his voice from cracking. From bearing you with the full brunt of his pussydrunken gaze, and immediately Geto bites down on his lower lip. Pathetically trying to stop any more of his pretty noises from reaching your ears.

“Hngh- Sugu-” you manage to mumble out around his digits. Dragging up one of your hands to pull roughly on his long, inky hair. “So mean.”

“You’re the hah- m-mean one, my girl.” Geto’s next words come out absolutely ruined. Disheveled strands falling all around your face and sticking to both of your sweat-sheened bodies. His dark brows scrunch together, mouth dry like he’s starved. “So mean- taunting me with such a-a perfect pussy. Holding it-” Those dripping wet fingers inside your mouth make their slow, sloppy trail down to toy with your puffed-up clit. Rolling over gently, and back again. “-back from me for so- hah- so fuckin’ long. Y’know how fuckin’ long I’ve wanted to fuck you like this-” His kiss is messy - salty, it hits you each each juttering slam that he’s tearing up. “-Oh, if you knew you’d be scared.”

He’s sounding desperate. Ruined.

Each and every one of his sultry swipes into your g-spot making his head throw back, abs clenching with every blissful shiver. You were so hot. So soft. And Geto fucking cursed the days he spent not fucking you right then and there from the moment he first saw you.

“Y-you said that-” your greedy hips push downwards against his saturatedly cum-filled balls. Sparks of pleasure making something so hot coil at the very bottom of your stomach. “-out loud again. Sugu- ah-”

“And?”

With a smugly smacking kiss against your lips, he’s plowing on, “Can feel how ah- badly ya wan’ me to fill you up. How wet how wet it hngh- gets you to see me s-so ruined like this-” Cold rings of his fingers swirling coolingly inside your mouth - deep. “-my little sadist.”

You moan uproariously, which only makes him chuckle. Low, and hoarse. Dangerous. “And you best believe that when I cum-” Patting your bulging cunt, “-m’gonna have another taste.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Too sweet…

“O-oh–”

Choso can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed at the pathetic way his deep voice cracks, the way his pretty pink lips fall into a lewd oh! Eyes rolling to the back of his head, thighs shivering after each shuddering little hump.

You let out a drunken giggle, feeling the sloshing of his sopping wet precum splatter all along your inner thighs. “Something wrong, Cho?”

“No!” your dear boyfriend is gasping, dewy eyes just wrenching open in a panic. Long, jittery limbs so fearful of losing even an ounce of that hot drag of your puffed-up pussy lips against his swollen tip. “No no no-” His strong arms come around your body, pinning you against where he had you on all fours. “Please don’t take this heavenly pussy a-away from me, baby.”

The words are so hastily spat out, like it hurt to even say them.

You’re whirling your head over your shoulders, glassy eyes spying down at that ragged rouge blush all over Choso’s face, that pussydrunk trail of drool down his lips, the way his achy cock hung so angry and heavy between his legs. Between yours.

So pretty.

“Well then, Cho.” His bruised lips just wobble at your sweet, sweet nickname. “Why aren’t ya putting it in already, then?”

“B-because-” his breath comes out in a hot puff against the back of your neck, and Choso takes the languid time to leave such a wet stream of kisses up your arched back. “Because m’worried s’not gonna be all you want, my baby.”

And he sounded so desperate. So needy, holding himself back.

A deft hand of yours tangles its way into his dark hair, pulling until your pretty boyfriend just keens. Dragging the sweltering hot tip of his swollen cock along your dripping wet slit. It mixes your honeyed juices together with an obscene squelch!

You steady yourself to just push - ever-so-slightly - down the plush mattress to take a mere inch of him.

And oh that turns him into such a babbling mess, moans hitching in his rumbling chest. Gasping and stuttering out sultry curses while Choso grabs his hands onto the curve of your waist. Hips reeling - forwards.

It only takes a mere moment before Choso slouches over, pinning you into him until you couldn’t move your filthy hips anymore. But the damage was already done.

And before you know it, he’s cumming - before he knows it, he’s cumming. Plugging in your tight hole with just his fat tip, he’s sobbing out thick, potent ribbon after ribbon of cum into your overstuffed pussy. So much of his slippery slick seed, hitting your spongy cervix, knocking on your womb. The sheer volume of it that sticks all around his cock in a creamy ring.

“Wait- oh-” he whimpers, voice shot. There was just something about the way your soaked, gummy walls were closing in on him, trying to just suck something delicious out of him that made it unable to stop himself. “Wait- I can’t oh-”

Muscled thighs spreading out even farther on the plush bed, he gives absolutely no warning before just pounding into you ruthlessly. No rhythm or reason at all. Just reveling in the way your slobbering cunt molds all around him, that jiggling smack! of your ass as he fucks you from behind.

“Is this…” he breathes out unsteadily, chest heaving. Hiking up one of his legs to drive his fat tip against the very bottom of your pussy even deeper. To drill across in thorough, wet glides of splashing cum. In wonderment, “So is this what you f-feel like, y baby- hngh! Is this ah- what- what sex feels like?”

He’s so sloppy, and he’s not even trying to be. Having that glossy puddle of cum spread wider and wider underneath your fervently ramming bodies.

“Mhmmm–” you’re batting your lashes at him.

Choso mashes his lips into yours, groaning out with each sharp hit of his hip bones against the curve of your ass. Whining, “Does- does it feel as good for you?” The hefty swell of his balls grind up greedily into your pussy, getting messier and wetter with every cascade of your juices down his eager length. His long fingers dip down to rub the very tip of your clit. Languidly. “T-tell me, baby.”

And just one swipe of his trembly thumb against your sensitive nub is all it takes for you to just clench, to throw your head back and arch into him even more sluttily.

“Hngh! Feels so good, Cho-” you mewl, big fat tears of stimulation welling up behind your eyelids. “K-keep going-”

“Oh.” he sucks in a shaky breath. And you feel the rotund curve of his cock expand even girthier, stretching out the already-taut channel of your pussy. Roughly, Choso’s grabbing a handful of your ass, kneading. And if you didn’t know any better you’d have said his moans were almost pained. “Wait don’t squeeze me like that- fuck fuck fuck- feels too good don’t-”

And when have you ever listened to your poor boyfriend?

It only takes a long, hard clamp around his heated cock before Choso sees stars behind his eyes again, throat run raw with moans of your name. And then he’s cumming - again. At least, whatever sense is left in him thinks he’s cumming.

“Baby, you’re- you’re so mean-” Choso lolls out his tongue deliriously, sucking on your own. Steady tears of his splash onto your skin with each sticky leftover dredge cum shooting out, and you’re left taking each of Choso’s jackhammering thrusts. Leaving you whimpering, being held back to paint your entrance even messier. Until he’s shooting out blanks. “S’only m’first time n’ already so mean.” He swipes a hand over your now-bloated tummy, coating his fingers all over with the absolute sin oozing out of you.

Seconds later, those syrupy fingers bully between your lips. And in a hoarse, husky whisper Choso continues, “You hafta t-take responsibility, y’know?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Twin b*tches, twin b*tches

“Both.”

“Brat-”

“Both.”

And while the infamous King of Curses can do nothing but stare down at you with one of his dangerously quirked eyebrows, you take it upon your stubborn self to bite down on Sukuna’s lower lip. Tugging, “Did I stutt- hngh!”

Whatever bratty sentence on the tip of your tongue is being fully overtaken by such one of the most cockdrunken moans that Sukuna has ever heard. Forcing from your syrupy lips as soon as he’s ramming his angry cockhead upwards into your melty insides.

“Heh, I think ya did stutter.” he’s leering down at you, feeding your drooling cunt with inch after hefty inch of his cock. “First time actually takin’ my cock and you want both? Ya wanna die, woman?”

“N-no–” you’re whining out. “I j-just want all of you-”

In milliseconds, he’s flipping the two of you over - having you thoroughly and deliriously straddled on one of his swollen cocks. You feel Sukuna’s other erection stacked behind twitch at the curve of your ass, gushing out such voluminous amounts of steaming hot precum seeping into your skin. Skin that absolutely thrills when he plants a harsh smack!

“Don’ say things outta ya slutty pussy, lil’ human.” he growls. Shutting you up with pound after pound, engorged shaft stretching every nook and cranny of your gummy cunt open. “S’gonna end up with me havin’ ta take care of your cockdrunk self and you-” You squeal when one of his four large hands wrap snugly around your throat, hauling you to his snarling lips. “-very, very pregnant with my heir.”

If that was meant to be a threat, Sukuna already knows that it didn’t work.

Because it only made your dripping pussy more drenched, more swelteringly tight around his girth.

“Ohhh ya liked that, didn’t ya?” he grins such a feral grin that shows off those sharp canines. And Sukuna’s taking his lazy, blissful time thumbing your bulging pussy open. “Might jus’ be the first to ever want to take both, greedy lil’ thing.”

“K-una–” you push up your ass against his other matchingly rock-hard cock. “Don’t care. Just wan’ you so bad.”

“Aww, jealous are ya?” Throat hoarse, chest heaving now, the bulbous tip of his other cock kisses insistently and wetly at your puckering cunt. He laughs, “Heh- No need, brat. Because- here-”

In true Sukuna fashion, he barely even gives you any warning before just hammering up with both cocks into the very bottom of your heated pussy with a pressurized thrust. Twin heads twinging so harshly that they knock against each other, nudging against your g-spot twice.

He knew what you wanted.

And you were finally getting it.

“Oh.” Sukuna’s red, devilish eyes roll to the back of his head at the way your dripping wet walls were so welcoming. Rubbing up against himself with each shuddering thrust, he’s gripping your chin with another hand, pressing wet kiss after kiss. “Oh you realize that- that m’gonna be filling this cute cunt up hah- twice as much now, hm? S’not too much for yer t-tight pussy the first time takin’ your king?”

He sounded almost…concerned. Benevolent

And all you can do is nod, taking the sloppy staccato of both cocks spearheading you like no other. Feeling stuffed so full, it was like he was knocking up into your lungs.

“Lungs, huh?” he’s tittering, and it barely even registers that you’re speaking out loud. “Didn’t think you’d be this cockdrunk.” He babbles away, feet planting flat on the mattress to fuck up even impossibly deeper. “Gonna give ya my heir- two heirs. Hah-”

Just the very thought of it has you stumbling through the very filthiest of bounces on Sukuna’s cock, pathetically trying to meet his feral pace.

“C’mon now, look at me.” he spits out, leaving harsh bites down your lips, your jaw, your neck. Anywhere and everywhere he could reach without stopping that incessant mashing up against your g-spot with his thickening, throbbing cocks. You’re forced to peer into his greedy gaze. “Look at while I breed you- yeahh–”

“M’so close- Kuna-” you’re mewling, lolling your bleary head down on Sukuna’s push pecs. “M’gonna- hngh- cum-”

For this, you’re rewarded with another stinging smack! onto your ass, before Sukuna easily grabs a handful to drag your drooling cunt up and down his length. “Heh, what a brat. Begged for both my- hah- cocks n’ you’re gonna cum already?” Fucking into you so hard now that you were sure he’d left two matchingly circular bruises on your cervix. “Whatever, cum for me then- but-” His cocks hit the back of your g-spot, making you painfully light-headed, “-ya better give me twins after this, my queen.”

And when you cum, oh it was like you couldn’t stop. Not with Sukuna still dragging you through your high, achy cocks so hard it was like they were about to burst.

Smoothing against your sweetest spots once, twice before he himself cums from one of his lengths such a throaty moan of your name. And for each white-hot jolt of pleasure, Sukuna was painting you all white inside.

“Sh-shit-” you whine, pulling him into the messiest types of kisses that you knew he loved. “M’so full- so- so full-”

Not enough, apparently.

Because no sooner are the words out of your mouth that his second, equally as filthy cock was streaming out thick spurts of cum. Staggeringly steamy hot inside you, those sticky sloshes reach your very womb, just slamming up into you mind-numbingly so that Sukuna can be sure it reaches each of your buried depths.

“Would ya look at that.” Sukuna whispers, reverant, almost. Sounding for all the world like he’s so utterly fucked. You follow his line of sight to the creamy sheen of seed drooling from between your thighs, glossy puddle forming underneath you two.

Still-hard cocks jutting up into you without warning. Hard.“One more. I wan’ both of ‘em to cum at the same time.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - 360°

“It’ll be just hah- just the tip.” Gojo puffs out hotly against your ear, powerful hips jittering up in a way that made him feel like such an animal. Rubbing his leaky tip rawly between your swollen folds, “Promise- promise ah-”

Your dazed, blinking eyes stare right up at the absolutely ruined strongest. His cerulean eyes all watery and drooping shut with every tentative swipe up those puffed-up pussy lips of ours. And your head throws back with each pretty peck of Gojo’s rotund head against your clit. Sticky. Depraved. Oozing with precum and the lust to fuck into your cute cunt exactly the way he’s been dreaming of for so long.

“What are best friends for, r-right?” he whines against your neck, snickering delightedly at the way your squirming hips buck up mindlessly into his. No matter how much you tried to huff and puff your way into pretending that you don’t want it as much as he’s dying for just a taste right now.

“Toru…” you start, in a scolding tone that already makes him twitch. Entire body jolting with excitement, and you feel his heavy balls rested against your thighs squeeze almost-painfully. “We stopped being just ‘best friends’ about twenty make-outs ago.”

And Gojo only rubs his head along your skin like some overgrown cat, sighing out. “Exactly.”

Biting your lip, you can only watch when he shoves apart your thighs even wider roughly. That thick, red tip positioned precariously between your lips weeping and weeping angrily.

You’re rolling your eyes, “Toru just fuck me-”

And then he’s sinking in - pushing past that first ring of resistance, stretching out your elastic cunt so mind-numbingly wide. You can feel him thrust in sticky, filthy little pushes and pulls of his hips - but you can’t see it, no.

Because just a single inch sunken inside your hot cunt was enough to drive Gojo mad. Eyes blowing wide, breath being just heaved in, and the last thing you caught was the briefest little flicker of blue lightning in his eyes before those seductive bedroom lights just burst.

It wasn’t going to be just the tip - and both of you knew it.

“Hah- Woah.” Gojo’s mouth felt dry, heart thundering when he blindly grips your body with a bruising hold. He sounded almost angry, “I didn’t know it could feel so fuckin’ good.” Voice higher pitched and unstable, he winces when it cracks ever-so-slightly at the end. “Hahaha- ohhh fuck, sweetheart. Remind me why we didn’t hngh! do this sooner?”

Oh, the intensity of it was too much.

Six eyes was rushing at him in full force, and Gojo just hiccups being able to see that outline of his swollen cock enter and split your pussy open. He couldn’t stop. The way that fat, rounded curve was jostling and invading your insides, having your walls melting pliantly around him so good- “Takin’ me so well, especially for the first time. Greedy girl.”

“Oh- oh my god-” you’re chanting, and you feel his cock thicken with each whimper. Blood rushing forwards to mold your walls even wider after each one, gushing out wet honeyed wet precum that sticks to you like a second skin.

“Jus’ Toru s’fine.” he titters, sinking his sharp canines into the side of your neck. It was like a claim. A little message, because after that Gojo was well into rummaging all around you gripping walls. “Though- I don’t mind if ya call me ‘baby’ or-” Smoothing his rosy lips over in a kiss against your forehead, “-your ‘husband’.”

You smack his sculpted chest, with only half as much strength you’d put into it than usual. “Gettin’ s-so ahead of yourself- hah.”

This makes him glide a greedy thumb along the outer edges of your bulging cunt, your pre-soaked slit- all the way up, up, up to where he could see himself knocking up against your g-spot.

“Oh, my girl.” he whimpers into your mouth. Those electric sparks of purple and blue lighting up that drunken look in his eyes, the way his abs flex and contort with each ravaging push fucking you into the bed. “With a pussy this sweet m’never lettin’ ya go.”

One of his greedy thumbs come up to nudge at that curving head of his cock, head throwing back deliriously at the lewd little massage.

You’re just whimpering tearily when his other long, slender fingers dance upwards to tease your sensitive clit, soft pads of his digits unapologetically pinching it. Hard.

“Wait- are you-” you gasping, sitting up on your two elbows at the sudden jolts of electricity. That tiny humming vibration of jujutsu that sparks all the way from your pre-soaked clit - from those big hands toying with it. It makes you just gush, airy and light-headed when you’re coating him in all your saturated juices.

He was fucking you like he was out of control - just long, animalistic drags of his fat cock down your plushy walls. Massaging himself on each and every one of those gooey crevices at your insides, you were so goddamn addictive. And Gojo was hypnotized.

But he wants more. He needs more.

“Shit- shit shit shit-” Gojo already sounded so utterly wrecked, body bowed on top of yours. His face was unabashed - feral, looking at you like he wanted to positively devour you. “Hope y’know I can u-use Six Eyes to tell whether this pretty pussy’s gonna ah- take- to my seed, pretty girl. Whether yer gonna- ah be bred properly like you should be.” He’s nuzzling at your neck, “So get ready for a mess-”

Cutting himself off with a moan, another sloppy stroke that meshes messily with your g-spot. Gojo grins oh he grins, and you’re suddenly reminded why so many fear him. Why he’s the strongest. In the bleary distance, you think you hear another light just explode. Whispering raggedly, “Because I intend to use it.”

A/N. I feel like every time I write for Sukuna I just HAVE to make a reference to that song.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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