#got a bit lost in thought about this one earlier and just kept going

[dragunheart]

doing some thinking on draconic language and what feels right so here's what i got, and what i write when i write for my kin self:

draconic language is tonal based, with few "words" that change meaning based on the tone it is spoken. for an easy example, let's take the word meaning "other dragon..." it can mean "enemy" "threat" "acquaintance" "friend" "mate" "lover.." all of those words can be communicated by one word said in different tones, with some sounds being added occasionally for specific categories, like "lover" has a specific sound added that indicates affection, repeated twice.

so for "lover" specifically, it would be the word for "other dragon" said in a friendly tone with the affectionate sound added twice for emphasis

i also have a few terms, namely "bigwings" "wings" and "tinywings"

"wings" is the main word, it's a word that also means other dragon, but it specifically is a more casual variation of the word. it can be either insultingly casual and rude, or very overtly friendly. it has a size modifier based on the size of the other dragon relative to the dragon speaking. for instance, a night fury would call a terrible terror "tinywings"

not every dragon has the vocal range for every sound available to the language, so slang is common, and sometimes communication problems occur, and some more clever groups have much wider vocabulary and slang that they have developed (not to say that they are more intelligent, as all dragons have intelligence comparable to that of a human)

[blond3ang3l]

Sleep over with stalker bestie! Eren

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Series!

Dark content ahead!!- somno

You got a boyfriend. And to say that Ren was pissed was a damn understatement. He hated that fucking man with every fiber in him. Who the fuck did he think he was? Coming into your life and trying to take his place! He would have to show your boyfriend that there was only one man in your life, and it could be Eren.

It took nothing for Ren to convince you to have a sleepover with him. You actually loved the idea. Getting to spend time with your best friend, and honestly you needed the comfort as you began to feel unsafe in your home.

Your body felt so light as the high kicked in. The shirt you wore starting to rise up your thighs causing Eren to stare. He let the smoke fill his lungs as you laid back against him. A deep chuckle filling your ears as you pushed you down onto your bed so you were laying down. "You feeling it already? We barely smoked anything." Which was a damn lie. He had you smoke three woods back to back, not to mention you were already tired after spending the entire day together running around with him.

"S' easy for you to say. M' tired Rennie." It took everything in him not to smirk as he leaned down to your face, his long brown locks dangling over you. "I know bunny, why don't you get some sleep okay? I gotta make a run so I'll let myself back in if I need to.” He didn't even get a full response, just a small hum before your soft snores filled his ear. He lied that he had anything to do, he just didn't want you to think any different of him for what he was about to do.

His hand slid under the large shirt you wore, the shirt that actually belonged to him that he left last time he stayed over. He just couldn't stop his hands. A nervous feeling started to fill his stomach as he pushed the shirt up, showing off the curve of your ass. Had you not worn any underwear under the shirt? His eyes widened when he pushed it up more and realized you actually didn't. You were practically asking for it, it wasn't his fault.

His dick throbbed with need as he spread the globs of your ass making him gulp. It was just you two in the house, it wouldn't hurt if he maybe...letting his spit drip down onto your hole he practically lost his mind hearing you whimper in your sleep. If Ren knew anything it was when you were high you could sleep through fucking anything, and with how much you smoked earlier he got lucky as hell. He but his lip as he pushed down his boxers, the only thing he was wearing while the two of you hung out in your room. Your oh so prettily decorated room contrasting the disgusting thoughts Eren had about you.

He moved behind you as you slept on your side. His hands lined himself up with your hole and without thinking twice he started to push into you. A whimper almost fell from his lips from how good you felt. Better than any bitch he had fucked before, better than he could have ever imagined. "Can't believe you kept this away from me for all these years." He mumbled to himself as his hips bucked into yours. It was taking everything in him not to fuck you into the mattress. He had to keep some type of restraint if he didn't want you to hate him for this.

"Baby? Mm is that you?" You groaned out as you felt him start to peel your shirt up more . Instead of responding he chuckled, pressing his lips against your neck to distract you. He made his voice a bit higher to see at least somewhat similar to your boyfriend. "Shh, just relax baby. Feel so good don't it? Just go back to sleep." Your head was still feeling so light making the pleasure of him stretching you out. His hand gripped your thigh, lifting it up more for him to push deeper into you. "F-fuck." He groaned out.

He threw his head back while fighting the urge to cum right then and there. "So fucking good, oh my God." His hips rolled having him grind into you. Eyes rolling back, Eren thought he was damn there in heaven. God he couldn't wait until you were back to just being his. He had to get rid of your boyfriend. Maybe he could plant something on him, have Connie and the other get rid of him and then you'll be back to being all his.

His dick throbbed at the thought of finally making you his. He felt a knot in his stomach as his hips sputtered. "Oh God, love you-ngh, love you so much baby." The words came out almost as a whine he came inside you. With a shaky breath he slowly pulled out of you, watching his cum spill out of you. "Shit..."

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@fairygardenprincesss

@merakidoll

[yukkiji]

off-camera

in the blur of spotlight and fame, a secret relationship brews between a beloved actress and japan’s star athlete—where what happens off-camera becomes the most unforgettable part of their story.

haikyuu masterlist. leave a little stardust on my ko-fi

starring. hinata shoyo x fem!reader

genre: fluff, romance, smut, timeskip!hinata, actress!reader

wc: 13.8k

warning: 18+ mdni., smut. nsfw. unprotected sex. cunnilingus. spanking. pining. (inform me if there's more)

author's note: okay, hinata might be a bit of ooc here but i loved writing this and i hope you guys enjoy it!

you were a rising star in the acting industry, already building an impressive fanbase and stacking up offers—films, guestings, endorsements, you name it.

and you first met hinata shoyo during one of your guest appearances on a late-night talk show.

you knew his name—honestly, who didn’t?

a household figure in the world of volleyball, the fiery msby black jackals ace who went on to represent japan in the olympics.

he walked onto the set with that sun-bright smile, hair still slightly damp from some earlier shoot, and energy so loud it practically announced him before the host did.

you told yourself to keep it professional. he was just another guest. just another athlete doing press.

but then he sat beside you.

and leaned in.

and said, “you’re even prettier off-screen.”

like it wasn’t being recorded. like he hadn’t just derailed your entire ability to speak with one sentence, delivered so casually it almost didn’t register—until it absolutely did.

you were a professional. you were media-trained, polished, always quick with a clever reply or a charming laugh. compliments were nothing new. you heard them constantly—from directors, co-stars, hosts trying to flatter their guests. they rolled off your shoulders like wardrobe lint.

so why was hinata shoyo different?

maybe it was the way he said it, not with the usual sleazy undertone or that overconfident smugness some actors wore like cologne. no, his words were honest. teasing, sure. a little cheeky. but his eyes held nothing but admiration—like he meant it. like he’d thought it before and just didn’t bother stopping himself from saying it out loud.

and of course, you were a blushing mess.

you laughed, tried to shake it off, but your voice cracked a little when you spoke next. you avoided eye contact. your fingers tightened ever so slightly around your water bottle. and everyone noticed. the internet noticed. clips of the moment hit social media before the segment was even over.

and just when you thought you’d regained composure, the host turned to hinata with a follow-up question—something harmless about training schedules and balancing fame.

he blinked, lips parted, then smiled sheepishly before leaning into his mic and saying:

“i’m sorry, can you repeat that? i got distracted by the beauty beside me.”

you nearly choked.

the audience exploded.

your heart dropped straight into your stomach, bounced off your dignity, and kept going.

the host lost it, practically doubled over in laughter. your co-guest looked between the two of you like they were witnessing the birth of a scandal in real time. someone backstage dropped something loud.

and you? you froze. laughed. covered your face with your hands for a second before daring to look at him.

he just grinned, bright and unbothered, legs bouncing slightly like he hadn’t just shattered your entire professional facade on national television.

and in that moment—caught between the studio lights, the screaming crowd, and the burning heat crawling up your neck—you realized two things.

one: hinata shoyo was dangerously charming.

and two: you were absolutely, completely screwed.

the internet ate it up, of course.

within minutes of the episode airing, your name and his were trending side by side. edits popped up like mushrooms after rain—slow-mo replays of the moment he called you beautiful, zoom-ins of your flustered face, fan-made fancams with captions like “get yourself someone who looks at you the way hinata looks at her.”

the comment sections were feral.

“i don’t know what PR is cooking but it ain’t better than THIS.” “forget that boring actor, have you seen her smile around hinata??” “they look like a romcom waiting to happen.” “chemistry? that wasn’t chemistry, that was a collision.”

people weren’t just shipping you with hinata—they were invested. comparing photos of you beside the actor your agency was trying to push versus you beside hinata. and the verdict? unanimous.

you and hinata looked better. laughed harder. felt more real.

you scrolled through it all in the backseat of your car on the way home from the taping, trying not to smile, trying very hard not to double-tap anything.

the tweets were unhinged. the fancams were already being set to romantic bgm. and someone had somehow managed to find a frame-by-frame analysis of the exact moment you broke into a flustered smile, claiming it was “the visual representation of falling in love.”

you were about to laugh—really laugh—when your manager’s voice cut through the buzzing high of your phone screen.

"as much as possible, refrain from interacting with hinata," they said without even looking at you. their tone was clipped, scrolling through their own tablet in the passenger seat. "his image isn't what we want linked to you. the actor is much more… fitting. marketable."

you blinked.

“marketable.” like you were a product on a shelf. like genuine chemistry could be replaced with staged photo ops and forced smiles.

you didn’t reply. just locked your phone and leaned your head against the window, city lights flickering past like strobe flashes.

but even then, behind your closed eyelids, you saw his grin. heard the way he’d said “the beauty beside me” like it wasn’t a joke—like he meant it.

it replayed in your head like a scene from a movie you weren’t ready to let go of.

and fate, apparently, was a hopeless romantic.

because a few days after the interview—after your manager’s firm insistence that any interaction with hinata shoyo was off the table, sealed, buried, and locked away—you ran into him.

completely unplanned. totally unscripted.

at a small café tucked into a quiet street, the kind of place where no one cared about fame and your name wasn’t flashing on a marquee.

you were in disguise. hood up, oversized sunglasses on, one of your dad’s old college hoodies pulled over your head like it was a cloak of invisibility. you just wanted coffee and a quiet corner.

what you got instead was hinata shoyo—seated two tables away, halfway through a matcha latte and scrolling through his phone like he had no idea the universe had just handed him a plot twist.

you froze.

he didn’t.

he looked up once. blinked. tilted his head. then smiled.

of course.

he got up casually, walked over like this was the most normal thing in the world, and slid into the seat across from you before you could even decide whether to run or pretend you were someone else entirely.

"seems like fate is on our side, huh?"

his voice was just as warm as you remembered it—easy, teasing, like this was some private joke between the two of you.

you blinked at him from behind your oversized sunglasses, mouth parting in disbelief. “you’re not supposed to be here,” you whispered, even though it wasn’t exactly his fault fate had terrible timing and a flair for drama.

"funny," he said, leaning in just a little, chin in his palm, "i was about to say the same thing about you."

his eyes flicked to your hoodie, to the sunglasses, to the way you were hunched low in your seat like you were avoiding paparazzi in a spy thriller.

"and yet... here you are. incognito and all."

you gave him a look, deadpan. “i’m serious. if someone sees us—”

"then they’ll see two people enjoying coffee." he shrugged, like it really was that simple. "and maybe they'll think, ‘wow, that guy’s lucky to be sitting with someone that pretty.’”

you choked on your sip of coffee.

he smiled like he knew he got you again. like he wanted to.

and just like the night of the interview, the cameras may not have been rolling this time—

but your heart was.

recording every second.

every grin.

every word that made you forget why this was supposed to be a bad idea.

you didn’t even realize how long the two of you had been sitting there in that little corner café, tucked behind dark shades and baseball caps, fingers curled around warm mugs and stolen glances. the outside world blurred, your responsibilities momentarily quiet. it should’ve been a quick encounter—one polite hello, maybe a laugh or two before going your separate ways.

but hinata had a way of anchoring you to the moment. like gravity in the shape of a boy with a foxlike grin and eyes that sparkled when he teased.

he’d slid into the seat across from you like he’d been doing it for years, one arm slung over the backrest, the other bringing his drink to his lips. his orange hair was slightly damp, messy from what you could only assume was post-training sweat. and speaking of training—

you hadn’t meant to notice it at first. but it was hard not to.

his compression shirt hugged his torso like it was custom-made, drawing attention to the lean muscle of his shoulders, the defined curve of his biceps. he’d thrown on a hoodie, sure, but left it unzipped—like he knew exactly what he was doing. like he wanted you to look.

and god, you were trying so hard not to.

your eyes flicked up to meet his, only to find him already staring.

his grin widened.

“you okay there?” he asked, feigning innocence, tilting his head slightly. “you’ve been staring at my chest for a while now.”

you nearly choked on your coffee.

“i wasn’t—!” you started, cheeks going hot. too hot. your voice cracked halfway through the denial. “i wasn’t staring.”

he raised a brow, leaning forward just a little—elbows on the table, smug written all over his face.

“uh huh.” he glanced down at himself, then back up at you with mock curiosity. “must be something really interesting down here then.”

you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

“it’s just a shirt,” you muttered, looking anywhere but at him.

“it’s a compression shirt,” he corrected, voice low and teasing, like he was thoroughly enjoying your slow descent into flustered oblivion. “made for performance. enhances blood flow. shows muscle definition…”

he smirked.

“…clearly working, huh?”

you hated how good he was at this. how effortless he made it seem. and yet, there was nothing cruel about it—nothing that felt mean-spirited. it was light, playful. flirty. but never below the belt.

still, your hands curled tighter around your mug as you fought the urge to smile.

“you’re impossible,” you muttered.

“and you’re adorable when you’re embarrassed,” he replied without missing a beat.

you rolled your eyes, but the warmth blooming in your chest betrayed you. no matter how much you tried to play it cool, hinata had this uncanny ability to slip right under your defenses—like it was second nature to him. his teasing wasn’t just harmless fun; it felt personal. intentional. like he wanted to see the way your guard cracked every time he looked at you like that.

he took another slow sip of his drink, eyes never leaving yours, then leaned in slightly—chin propped on his hand, gaze too amused for your comfort.

"i’ve been meaning to ask for your number last time,” he said, voice a touch quieter now, more intimate. “but you were whisked away like cinderella at midnight.”

you huffed a laugh, setting your mug down. “i think cinderella at least got to say goodbye. i was practically shoved into the car by my manager like i’d committed a crime.”

“well,” he shrugged with a playful glint in his eye, “you did commit one.”

you raised an eyebrow. “oh? do tell.”

he leaned in just a little closer, enough that you could catch the faint scent of his cologne—clean, fresh, a little woodsy. unfairly distracting.

“you stole my attention,” he said, lips twitching into a grin. “and didn’t even leave a shoe behind.”

you stared at him, momentarily stunned. how did he say things like that without flinching? without even a hint of hesitation? like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“you’re really going all in on the charm today, huh?”

he chuckled. “what can i say? i’ve got limited time. might as well make it count.”

and then, as if he hadn’t already knocked the wind out of you once, he added—softly, but without a trace of sarcasm,

"are you and that actor really a thing?"

you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. it wasn’t accusatory or bitter—just curious. tentative. honest.

"no," you said, the word escaping with a sigh, your fingers absently circling the rim of your coffee cup. "pr stunt. apparently, for more exposure. buzz, clicks, articles—whatever keeps the spotlight burning."

you didn’t know why you felt the need to explain, but the moment you did, you felt lighter. like saying it out loud made it real—that you weren’t actually tied to someone else, that there was space for something else. someone else.

hinata leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable for a moment, eyes flickering down to his cup like he was turning something over in his head. and then—

"so you're saying there's a chance?" he asked, lips twitching into a grin that had no right being as endearing as it was.

you laughed, shaking your head, but you couldn’t hide the way your mouth curved, the way warmth bloomed somewhere deep in your chest again—persistent and impossible to ignore.

"you’re ridiculous," you muttered.

"but charming, right?"

your gaze flicked to his. he was relaxed in the chair, one arm casually slung over the backrest, still wearing that too-tight compression shirt that you swore he knew was unfair. it clung to him in all the right places, stretching across his chest and shoulders with an ease that made it impossible not to glance—more than once.

he caught you doing it again, of course.

"you keep looking at me like that," he teased, tilting his head, "and i’m gonna think you’re into me or something."

"maybe i’m just admiring the poor fabric trying its best to survive."

he laughed—loud and boyish and unguarded—and for a second, it made the world feel simple. like there were no managers waiting outside, no headlines looming, no risk in sitting here with him.

"next time, i’ll wear something looser," he said, still grinning.

"don’t."

the word slipped out before you could stop it, and it hung in the air between you—bold and shameless.

his eyebrows shot up. "oh?"

you cleared your throat, reaching for your drink to hide your flustered smile. "i mean... wear whatever. i don’t care."

but you did. and he knew.

and when he smiled again, this time it was softer. knowing. as if he was silently agreeing: yeah, this was definitely not a bad idea.

you shifted in your seat, heart beating far too fast for a casual café meetup, and fished your phone out of your coat pocket. with a playful raise of your brow, you slid it across the table to him.

"here—before my fairy grandmother calls and turns the carriage back into a press van."

he laughed, a real one, eyes crinkling with amusement. "so you are cinderella."

"more like cinderella with a publicist and a fake relationship contract."

"even better," he said, already tapping in his number, the screen lighting up in his hands. "means i still get to be the guy chasing you down with a glass slipper."

"or a phone number," you muttered, trying not to smile too obviously as you watched his fingers fly across the screen.

"both," he said, handing your phone back. "except i won't lose you this time."

and somehow, despite the noise of the café, despite the chaos of everything that had led to this moment, that sentence landed like a promise. it made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t want to name. not yet.

he stood then, stretching a little, and your eyes betrayed you once again—flickering briefly to the way the fabric of his compression shirt moved with him. he caught it. again.

"really should’ve worn something looser," he said with a smirk, voice just low enough to make your face heat.

"you’re impossible."

"but charming, right?" he repeated, grinning as he grabbed his drink.

you rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the warmth blooming under your skin as he added, just before heading to the counter to grab a napkin,

"text me when you get home. and don’t disappear this time, cinderella."

he was halfway across the café before you realized—you were already reaching for your phone. already saving his contact. already typing something with a smile you couldn’t hide anymore.

it didn’t stop there.

one secret meetup turned into two. then three. then so many that you stopped counting.

you were both careful—god, you were careful. hoodies pulled low, caps shadowing your eyes, oversized sunglasses that made you look like you stepped out of a badly disguised spy movie. it should’ve felt ridiculous. sometimes it did.

but then hinata would catch sight of you from across the court—eyes lighting up mid-warm-up, a split second longer than necessary before he returned to his team—and suddenly, it was all worth it.

you’d sit high up in the stands, blending in with the crowd. pretending not to care. pretending like your chest didn’t swell every time he made a point, like you weren’t dying to run to him when his name echoed through the stadium.

after games, sometimes he’d find a way to slip away. duck behind staff exits, or fake a phone call just long enough to sneak into the backseat of a tinted car, breathless and grinning.

“you came again?” he’d whisper, like it was still unbelievable. like your presence wasn’t the thing that kept him going through grueling practice runs and double overtime.

“wouldn’t miss it,” you’d murmur back, brushing a strand of hair out of your face before it got caught in his jacket when he leaned in.

on off days, you’d meet at quieter places—a ramen shop near the river where no one paid attention, or a convenience store at 11 p.m. with instant noodles and laughter echoing off vending machines.

you learned that he trained too hard and slept too little. that his days blurred into morning drills and late-night strategy reviews, protein shakes and aching joints. he never complained, but sometimes—just sometimes—he’d let his voice soften during your calls, the exhaustion slipping through like cracks in glass. and you’d listen, quietly, offering nothing but your presence and the occasional: “you’ve done enough today, shoyo.”

he learned you hated the fake PR relationship. that you rolled your eyes so hard it hurt whenever your team sent over a new headline pairing you with that actor. the one who barely knew anything about you. who didn’t know your favorite song, or how you hated the cold, or that you could never finish a drink without biting the straw until it was bent out of shape. hinata did. he noticed everything, quietly.

he wasn’t the jealous type, not really. not in the possessive way that made people petty or loud. but on nights when you called him after a red carpet event or a staged dinner with your so-called co-star, he’d scoff.

lightly. like it was nothing.

“looked cozy with him tonight,” he’d say, clearly not meaning it. but also clearly meaning something.

you’d roll your eyes. “we were both acting. that’s the point.”

“yeah, well,” he'd mutter, “maybe i should start showing up to premieres in a suit and pretend to be your bodyguard or something. see how he likes that.”

it made you laugh. always did. because hinata didn’t know how to be jealous in the normal way. he didn’t brood or sulk. he just... got quiet. thoughtful. like maybe he was wondering if the world would ever let you be his for real.

but he never asked you to stop. never made you choose. he just waited—trusting, steady—like someone who believed that whatever you were building together could survive the noise.

and every time you heard that soft scoff or the way he’d shift his voice, just a little sharper, a little less sunny, you wanted to say: it’s not real. he’s not you. he’ll never be you.

but instead you’d promise, “soon,” because that’s all you could offer in the quiet, secret space you and hinata had carved between the cameras. and for now, it was enough.

what surprised you most—though maybe it shouldn’t have—was that hinata wasn’t just patient. he was your biggest fan.

he made it his personal mission to collect every magazine cover you were on, even if it meant ducking into convenience stores in full hoodie-disguise, mask on, hoping no one would recognize japan’s star volleyball player clutching three copies of elle like they were limited edition.

he’d send you pictures, too—half blurry, always with a dumb grin on his face.

“guess who’s on aisle three again?” he’d text, along with a photo of your face next to some shampoo ad, and “i told the cashier i knew you. she didn’t believe me.”

he made a point to stop and stare (dramatically) at every billboard you were on, whether it was in shibuya crossing or a random subway station. once, he even asked a stranger to take a photo of him standing beneath one. arms crossed. chin tilted up.

you could see the pride in his smile, even through the screen.

“should’ve signed it for me,” he’d tease, and you could only laugh, cheeks warm with something heavier than affection—something that felt dangerously like love.

he didn’t treat your career like it was something intimidating or separate from him. he treated it like something to cheer for. something to be proud of. and in those moments, between your exhaustion and his training, you realized that hinata didn’t just see the version of you the world wanted—he saw all of you. and still, he stayed.

still, he smiled.

still, he bought every single magazine.

every cover you landed on, every spread you graced—hinata had it tucked somewhere in his apartment. he never made a big deal about it, but you’d catch glimpses: one stacked beside his bed, another on the coffee table, a few more carefully placed on a shelf like trophies he didn’t win but still celebrated.

your shared off-days were quiet rebellions against the lives you both led in public. no disguises, no handlers, no staged smiles. just dim lighting, takeout containers, and the kind of peace that only came when the world wasn’t watching.

his place was your favorite hideout. not because it was spacious (it wasn’t), or particularly tidy (it definitely wasn’t), but because it smelled like him—fabric softener and worn-in cotton and just a hint of sweat from training. real. grounding.

you’d spend hours doing absolutely nothing. tangled in his sheets or curled on his couch, limbs overlapping like it was second nature. his arm slung over your waist. your fingers tracing absentminded patterns across the ridges of his abs through the thin fabric of his shirt. breathing in sync, like you’d practiced this rhythm your whole life.

sometimes, the kisses started lazy. playful. you straddling him without meaning to, a knee on either side of his hips while you teased him about something he said, your face hovering just close enough to make him chase it. his hands would find your thighs like muscle memory, pulling you down gently until your bodies met in full.

and then it would shift—slow lips becoming deeper, hungrier. like every second spent apart had built up behind a dam now cracking under the weight of want. you kissed like you were trying to memorize each other all over again, mouths moving in sync, breaths coming faster, more uneven.

your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan softly against your mouth. his palms, warm and sure, pressed into the curve of your spine, pulling you closer until your bodies aligned, chest to chest, like puzzle pieces that just fit.

his hands slid beneath the oversized hoodie you were wearing—his, of course. they moved with purpose, calloused fingertips skimming over your bare skin, teasing the soft dip of your waist before finding the swell of your breast. he cupped you gently at first, thumbs brushing just enough to draw a breathy gasp from your lips.

the sound made him smirk into the kiss, all boyish mischief and quiet satisfaction, like he was proud of himself for getting that kind of reaction from you.

“so sensitive,” he murmured against your mouth, the words a soft tease, but his tone reverent—like he was discovering something precious and trying to take his time with it.

your hips shifted instinctively, grinding down into his lap, and he let out a low, shaky breath—eyes fluttering shut as if your weight alone could undo him. his hands tightened on your waist, holding you there like he never wanted you to move. like he wanted to feel every shiver of your body right against his.

the kiss deepened again, slower this time, but still just as urgent. it was the kind of kiss that made time blur, that made your stomach flutter and your fingers twitch with the need to feel more. you could feel the heat of him through the thin barrier of clothing between you, his breath coming faster whenever you shifted just right.

his hoodie—oversized on you—was pushed up halfway by his touch, and when his thumbs brushed the underside of your breasts again, you arched into him with a soft, broken sound that had him smiling into the kiss.

“you’re trouble,” he whispered, voice roughened by want, his lips ghosting along your jaw, down your neck, where he lingered just enough to leave goosebumps in his wake. “you know that?”

you mumbled something in response, too breathless to be coherent, threading your fingers through his hair again and tugging lightly—because you knew how much he liked that. and he did, a quiet groan escaping him as he pulled you closer, letting you feel just how hard it was for him to stay patient.

but you two never let it go too far. not all the way. there was a kind of tenderness in your restraint—a quiet agreement between the two of you. this wasn’t just about need. it was about trust, about the slow, magnetic pull between two people who wanted everything but weren’t in a rush to take it all at once.

still, there were moments—lazy, drawn-out nights in his apartment or yours—where your hands would wander a little more boldly. where the kisses would trail lower. where you’d end up tangled in his sheets, soft moans filling the dim light between mouthfuls of laughter and whispered promises.

and sometimes, when the tension built too high and the ache was too much to ignore, he’d take his time with you—slow, unhurried, and focused like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. and maybe in those moments, you were.

you’d sink into the couch, already breathless just from the look he gave you. and he’d kneel between your thighs, hands steady and eyes locked to yours as if asking, again, silently, for permission. and when you nodded, or whispered his name, it was like flipping a switch.

because hinata could eat like a man starved.

his mouth was reverent, like he was worshiping more than just your body. he listened to every gasp, every soft cry, adjusting his pace, his pressure, until you were arching against his tongue, one hand gripping his hair, the other over your mouth to muffle the kind of sounds the neighbors definitely didn’t need to hear.

and when he finally pulled back, lips slick and eyes heavy-lidded with pride and affection, he’d always kiss your thigh, rest his cheek against it like it was the most natural thing in the world. and you'd laugh, breathless and dazed, brushing your fingers through his hair like you couldn’t quite believe how lucky you were.

those nights weren’t about release. they were about intimacy. trust. knowing someone would learn every part of you without rushing to take all of you.

and in that slow burn, in that secret, sacred space you shared—it always felt like enough.

but maybe the tension had already reached its peak the night you went to watch one of his games, still hidden beneath a hoodie and cap, tucked into the farthest seat you could find. you weren’t supposed to be there. no one knew. but you had to see him—not through a screen or a photo or someone else’s words. you needed to watch him move. to feel that electric pull in real time.

and something inside you always shifted whenever he played.

it wasn’t just the way he moved—though that was part of it. it was the way he pushed his body past its limits, the way his jaw set with determination, the way he called for the ball like he knew the whole court belonged to him. and yes, maybe the way his arms flexed after a spike or how his shirt clung to his back didn’t help the ache low in your stomach.

you were so wound up from watching him that when your phone buzzed, and it was his name lighting up the screen—“come to my room?”—you didn’t even hesitate.

you were already halfway there when you texted back, “on my way.”

his hotel room door opened just as you were about to knock, like he’d been standing there waiting. his hair was still damp from the post-game shower, and he was dressed in just a loose shirt and sweats—but his eyes lit up the moment he saw you.

“you came,” he said, voice a little hoarse.

“you called,” you replied simply, stepping inside, heart pounding, heat still coiled tight in your chest from watching him earlier.

the moment the door shut behind you, it was like the space between you snapped. he didn’t waste time with small talk—just reached for you, tugged you forward, and kissed you like he needed it as badly as you did.

and you kissed him back like you’d been holding it in all night.

your back hit the wall before you even realized he was walking you there—his hands gripping your waist, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt like it could anchor you through the rush of it all. his lips never left yours, moving with a hunger that had been simmering under the surface for far too long.

he kissed like he was trying to make up for every second you’d spent apart. like the crowd, the court, the noise—all of it faded the second you walked through that door.

his body pressed flush against yours, one knee sliding between your legs, widening your stance. and then his hands—hot and sure—moved under the hem of your hoodie, finding bare skin and dragging a gasp from your throat.

you moaned into his mouth, and he smiled against your lips, a low sound of satisfaction rumbling from his chest.

“missed you,” he breathed between kisses, and you could barely answer, too busy chasing the next touch, the next kiss, the next place his hands would go.

he pressed you harder into the wall like he couldn’t stand the distance between your bodies—not even an inch. not now.

not after tonight.

"baby, tell me you want this. i don't think i can hold back anymore," he said, voice low and frayed at the edges, each word pressed into your skin like a confession.

his mouth trailed down to your neck—slow, deliberate—until he found that spot, the one he knew too well. the one that always made you shiver, no matter how many times he found it.

he lingered there, lips brushing over it once, then again, just to feel the way your body reacted, the way your breath caught, the way your hands clutched tighter at his shoulders.

“right here, huh?” he murmured against your skin, the smile in his voice unmistakable. he sucked, just a little—just enough to make your knees wobble and your head fall back against the wall with a soft whimper.

you weren’t sure what gave you away first: the way your hips tilted toward him like gravity had shifted, or the way your hands were already under his shirt, dragging it up, desperate for more skin.

“yes, shoyo. please,” you moaned—soft, breathy, and unguarded.

his breath hitched at the sound, like it struck something deep inside him. your voice—like that—was a kind of possession. one no crowd, no camera, no spotlight could ever compete with. it was his, and his alone.

“you have no idea what that does to me,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours for a second, as if grounding himself. and then his lips were back on yours—slower this time, but deeper. every kiss full of something he didn’t always know how to say out loud.

his hands were on the hem of your shirt, pausing, eyes flicking up to meet yours—checking, asking without a word. you gave him a nod, barely more than a breath, but it was all he needed.

in one fluid motion, your shirt was peeled away, tossed to the floor without a second thought. his hands were reverent—warm, calloused from endless hours of practice, but gentle as they skimmed over the bare skin now exposed to him.

your pants followed shortly after, unbuttoned with trembling fingers and slipped down your legs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. they were flung carelessly across the room, a forgotten casualty in the urgency that pulsed between you.

“god, you’re…” his voice trailed off as his gaze dragged over every inch of you. there was awe there. hunger, too—but not the kind that rushed. this was slower. deeper. like he wanted to savor you.

he leaned in again, pressing kisses from your collarbone to your sternum, then lower, each one leaving a trail of warmth and intent. “been thinking about this since the moment you walked into the stadium,” he murmured, lips brushing the skin just above your bra. “you drive me insane, you know that?”

you let out a small squeak when hinata suddenly lifted you with ease, strong hands gripping the underside of your thighs, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. his mouth was back on yours before your back even hit the mattress—hot, urgent, tasting of everything you’d both held back until now.

his weight hovered just enough not to crush you, but you could feel every inch of him, feel the way his restraint was fraying with every second.

your hands found his shoulders, dragging down the smooth, toned lines of his back as you gasped against his lips, “shōyō… take off your shirt too.”

he pulled back just enough to smirk down at you, chest rising and falling with sharp, shallow breaths. “yeah?” he teased, voice low, fingers already reaching for the hem of his shirt. “been thinking about this, haven’t you?”

you only bit your lip in response, watching with wide, hungry eyes as he peeled it off in one motion—revealing the full view of his sculpted chest, the lines of muscle carved from years of training, the light sheen of sweat from the game still clinging to his skin.

“this what had you distracted the whole match?” he said, leaning closer, his nose brushing yours, that teasing grin back on his face. “because i saw you. front row. couldn’t even look away when i stretched, huh?”

you hated how right he was.

and he knew it—especially when your hands slid down his chest like you were confirming every part of it was real.

his lips found your neck again, mouth warm and relentless as he left a trail of small, possessive love bites. each one pressed into the sensitive skin with just enough pressure to make you whimper, to make you shift beneath him. you knew they’d darken into purple and red by morning—badges of something secret, something sacred—and the thought made your breath hitch.

his hands slid around your back with practiced ease, fingers finding the clasp of your bra and undoing it in one smooth motion. you barely registered the sound of it being flung somewhere behind you, too focused on the way his eyes dropped, hungry and reverent all at once.

the chill of the hotel room kissed your skin, and your nipples perked up from the sudden cold—but before you could shiver, his warm palms were already there, cupping your breasts with a tenderness that made your breath catch. his thumbs brushed softly over the peaks, slow and purposeful, and the contrast of his touch against your cooled skin made your back arch almost instinctively.

he chuckled, low and warm, his breath ghosting over your collarbone. “so sensitive, baby,” he murmured, like he was committing every sound you made to memory.

his mouth dipped lower again, this time latching onto one nipple, tongue flicking in slow, teasing circles while his fingers rolled the other between his fingertips. you whimpered, hips bucking lightly beneath him, needing more—needing him.

“you always get like this for me,” he said, pulling away just long enough to whisper the words directly into your skin, “so perfect, so responsive.”

his lips latched onto your other nipple, tongue swirling, sucking gently—giving it the same slow, thorough attention while his free hand traced hot trails down your body. the pads of his fingers danced along your stomach, pausing just briefly at the waistband of your underwear before slipping beneath.

he didn’t rush. he touched you like he had all night—like he wanted to memorize every reaction.

his fingers found your clit, and he started slow, dragging them up and down with the lightest pressure, teasing, testing. your hips jerked at the contact, breath catching in your throat as he began to circle, gradually adding just enough pressure to make your thighs tense around him.

“s-shoyo. ngh,” you moaned, your voice shaky, almost pleading. “it feels so good…”

he hummed against your chest, clearly pleased by every sound that escaped your lips.

“yeah? already this wet for me, baby?” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. his fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles over your clit, then dipped down to gather more of your slickness before returning, dragging out every wave of sensitivity. “you don’t even know what you do to me.”

then, without warning, one finger slid inside of you—slow but sure—stretching you just enough to make your back arch off the bed, a sharp gasp catching in your throat.

“sh-shoyo—” you breathed, hips pushing forward instinctively.

his lips never left your skin, still trailing across your chest—kissing, sucking, his tongue flicking over your nipple with slow, deliberate devotion. every movement was purposeful, almost reverent. he touched you like you were sacred—like he needed to memorize the taste of your skin, the way your body reacted to him, every breathless sound he pulled from your lips.

then, he added another finger—sliding in beside the first, curling just right. your hips jolted as another moan escaped you, raw and needy. and when a third joined, moving in rhythm, his palm grinding softly against your clit, you swore you could’ve come undone right then. just from his fingers. just from his mouth on your chest.

“gonna cum, baby?” he asked, voice low and thick, his lips now hovering over yours.

you nodded quickly, almost desperate—but he pulled back just an inch, teasing.

“i want words, baby. tell me.”

“yes—ugh, shoyo—please, i’m gonna cum,” you gasped, barely holding it in.

that was all it took for him to smile, all soft and satisfied, before kissing you again—deep, consuming, like he wanted to feel your pleasure through your mouth.

and then it hit—your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, white-hot and blinding. your body arched, back lifting from the sheets, thighs trembling around his hand. for a moment, everything blurred, all thought wiped away by the intensity of it. all you could see were stars behind your closed eyes.

then, gently, his hand moved up to your cheek, brushing back a few damp strands of hair. his thumb caressed your skin, grounding you, coaxing you back into your body.

“you did so good,” he murmured, voice soft but thick with heat. his eyes were locked on yours, gaze heavy with something deeper—affection, need, pride. “my good girl.”

he pressed a kiss to your lips, slow and reassuring. but when he pulled back, the smirk that curved his mouth told you everything.

“but we’re not done yet.”

true to his words, hinata pulled you toward the edge of the bed, his hands firm but gentle as he guided you exactly where he wanted you. he dropped to his knees before you, eyes dark with hunger as they swept over your body—bare, flushed, and still trembling from your last orgasm.

your soaked panties were peeled off slowly, almost teasingly, before being tossed aside to join the scattered pile of clothes on the floor.

you were completely bare now. exposed. vulnerable. wanted.

his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them with ease, and he looked up at you like you were the only thing that existed.

“all mine,” he murmured, voice low, reverent. “so fucking beautiful.”

then he leaned in.

his tongue met your folds with no hesitation—lapping you up like he’d been craving you for days. it was messy, intense, almost greedy. he flattened his tongue against your clit, dragging slow, deliberate strokes before switching to firm, rhythmic suction that made your hips jerk and a strangled moan catch in your throat.

“fuck—shoyo,” you gasped, hand flying to his hair, fingers curling tight as he buried himself deeper.

hinata always ate you out like this. like he worshipped the taste of you. like your body was something sacred and he was the only one allowed to kneel before it. each lick, each suck, each flick of his tongue was laced with the kind of hunger that left your legs shaking around his head.

he moaned against you—low and guttural—the vibration making your toes curl. he thrived on the way you trembled, on the way your thighs tried to clamp shut around his face. and he didn’t stop. not when you cried out, not when your hips bucked up against his mouth. in fact, he gripped your thighs tighter, holding you open like a man on a mission.

“so fucking sweet,” he murmured between strokes, “you were made for this.”

your hands moved instinctively, cupping your breasts and squeezing, thumbing over your own nipples in desperate search of more friction—more of everything. and hinata looked up just long enough to see you like that—head thrown back, lips parted, hands on your chest as your body begged for more.

god, he nearly lost it right there.

“fuck—baby,” he groaned, voice rough with want, “you’re gonna make me cum just watching you touch yourself like that.”

but he didn’t stop. if anything, it spurred him on—his mouth working even faster, tongue flicking and circling your clit with purpose. his grip on your thighs tightened, dragging you impossibly closer to the edge of the bed, like he needed to be closer, like he’d crawl inside you if he could.

every moan you let out, every tremble in your legs, was feeding something wild in him. it lit him up from the inside, drove him deeper into you with an intensity that felt almost primal. he wasn’t stopping—not until you were unraveling again, trembling and wrecked, completely his.

“sho—i’m coming,” you gasped, voice breaking on the edge of a cry.

hinata looked up briefly, his eyes dark and full of hunger, lips glistening with your slick. “go on, baby,” he said, voice low and rough, like gravel and heat. “cum for me. i want it—need it.”

and with that, his mouth was back on you, sucking and licking like he knew every spot that made you come undone. it didn’t take long—your second orgasm slammed into you like a jolt of lightning, thighs tightening around his head, body convulsing under the weight of your release. your hands gripped the sheets, breath catching in your throat as the pleasure surged through you.

he didn’t stop until your legs were trembling, twitching from overstimulation, and your breath came in broken gasps. only then did he slow, tongue now soft and lazy, his lips trailing reverent kisses along your inner thighs—like he was thanking you for letting him worship you.

hinata rose from between your legs, crawling back up your body. his hands smoothed over your sides, warm and grounding, gently coaxing you back to earth. he pressed his lips to your shoulder, then your collarbone, each kiss a soft anchor.

“still want to continue?” he murmured between kisses, voice low, tender—but laced with heat.

his eyes searched yours, fingers still drawing slow, soothing circles on your hips, grounding you in the moment. there was no rush in him now—just heat, reverence, and something deeper.

“of course,” you whispered, voice a little hoarse from all the moaning, but filled with certainty. your hand came up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing just beneath his eye. he leaned into your touch instantly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment, as if grounding himself in you.

“my girl,” he breathed, so softly it was almost a prayer, before he kissed your palm, then your lips again—slower this time, but no less hungry.

with gentle care, hinata shifted beside you, adjusting your position so you were lying comfortably against the pillows. he smoothed your hair back from your face and tucked a pillow beneath your lower back, like he knew exactly what your body needed after everything.

“there,” he murmured, voice still thick with affection and desire, “comfy?”

you nodded, heart fluttering as he kissed your forehead, then your jaw, then trailed lower again, as if starting all over—but this time, slower, deeper, more deliberate.

he wasn’t just taking his time now. he was savoring you.

your hand trailed slowly down his chest, fingertips brushing over his skin with intent. you felt the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch—every inch of him responding to you. your fingers reached the waistband of his sweats, tugging at the knot, and without hesitation, hinata helped you, quickly shimmying out of them, his boxers following right after.

your hand wrapped around his length, warm and pulsing in your grip. he hissed softly through his teeth, his hips twitching at your touch. he was big—thick and long, the veins along his shaft prominent beneath your fingers. the sight of him, paired with the heat radiating off his body, had your mouth watering and your core clenching in anticipation.

hinata’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment as you stroked him slowly, your thumb grazing the bead of precum that had gathered at the tip.

“fuck,” he breathed, voice rough and low, “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

your body was already responding to him again, the ache between your thighs growing deeper, wetter, as you imagined what it would feel like to have him inside you—stretching, filling, claiming. your legs shifted restlessly beneath him, need blooming hot and fast all over again.

“shoyo, can i suck?” you asked, voice soft, eyes wide and innocent—but laced with heat. hinata swore under his breath, jaw tightening at the sight of you like that, looking up at him so sweet and desperate.

he leaned down, brushing his nose against yours as he chuckled lowly. “not now, baby. maybe next time, yeah?”

you pouted, lips pushing out slightly, and it only made his cock twitch in your hand. but he just shook his head, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“i want to pleasure you,” he murmured, voice deep with intent, “tonight’s all about you.”

he kisses you again—slow and warm, with a hint of growing urgency—before pulling back just enough to reach toward the drawer beside the bed.

his brows furrowed a little as he rummaged through it. “shit,” he muttered under his breath, still searching.

you bit back a smile, watching him with a mix of amusement and affection. “can’t find it?”

“i swear i put one in here,” he grumbled, lifting and shuffling through random things—lip balm, a stray pen, an old receipt—everything but what he needed.

“it’s okay,” you said softly, resting a hand on his arm. “i’m on the pill.”

he paused, eyes flicking to yours, the heat in them momentarily eclipsed by something tender—concern.

“are you sure, baby?” his voice was low, careful, but laced with desire.

you nodded, your thumb brushing slow circles against his skin. “you don’t have to worry about going raw with me.”

his jaw flexed, clearly affected, and he leaned in to kiss you—slow, deep, reverent. when he pulled back, his voice was rough with restraint.

“fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

he pulls you closer, one hand gripping your hip as the other wraps around his cock. he drags the head through your folds, teasing your clit, smearing your slick over the tip and down his length. the sensation makes you gasp, hips twitching toward him.

“so wet already,” he groans, his voice low and shaky, “all for me, huh?”

he keeps rubbing the tip against you, slow and deliberate, letting the tension build. every little twitch in your thighs, every stuttered breath, was making him lose his mind.

“fuck, shoyo, stop teasing.”

your voice was breathless, almost whining, and it made him smirk—eyes dark with want.

“can’t help it,” he murmured, dragging the head of his cock over your entrance one more time, just to hear you gasp. “you’re too perfect like this. squirming for me.”

but then he leaned down, kissed you like he couldn’t bear to wait any longer—and he didn’t.

with one slow, steady push, he began to slide in, inch by inch, filling you completely.

he was big—thicker, longer than anyone you’d ever had—and your walls clung to him greedily, stretching around every inch. it burned in the best way, a slow, delicious ache that had your breath catching in your throat.

your eyes fluttered open as you pulled back from the kiss, gasping. instinctively, you looked down between you, where your bodies met—where his cock was slowly sinking deeper into you—and your stomach flipped at the sight. he wasn’t even all the way in, just halfway, but you already felt impossibly full.

“fuck,” you whispered, legs trembling, fingers digging into his shoulders. “shoyo, you’re… so big.”

he groaned, low and strained, watching every twitch in your face with hungry eyes. “you’re taking me so well, baby,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, your jaw, your neck. “so tight… feel so fucking good around me.”

you could feel your eyes roll to the back of your head the moment he finally bottomed out—every inch of him snug inside you, stretching you just right. your breath hitched, and your nails dug slightly into his back as you tried to ground yourself.

hinata paused there, buried to the hilt, his forehead resting against yours. he was breathing just as hard, holding himself still for you, his hands gripping your hips like a lifeline. his restraint was barely holding, his muscles trembling with it.

“you okay?” he whispered, voice rough and shaky.

you nodded, lips brushing his. “you can move now, shoyo. please.”

that was all he needed.

hinata moved with a hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface—now unleashed. his thrusts were deep and purposeful, hitting all the right spots with practiced ease. it was overwhelming in the best way, the drag and push of him inside you sending your mind spiraling.

he was feral, and you loved every second of it.

the way he gripped your thighs, the way his hips slammed against yours—it was like he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t have enough of you. each thrust had your breath catching, your moans spilling freely into the air between you.

and god, the sounds—skin meeting skin, his low groans, your gasps—they could send you straight into cloud nine.

his name tumbled from your lips like a chant—shoyo, shoyo, shoyo—your nails digging into his back as he fucked you like he needed you to breathe. his pace was relentless, but not careless; he knew your body too well, chasing every twitch, every gasp, every tremble like it was a reward.

“look at you,” he gritted out, sweat dripping from his brow as he hovered over you, his thumb finding your clit and circling it just right. “taking me so fucking good.”

“fuck—look at that,” he growled, eyes glued to where your bodies met. his cock twitched deep inside you at the sight of your slick coating him, a creamy ring forming at the base. “you’re making such a mess on me, baby.”

his thrusts deepened, slow but punishing, each one pulling a gasp or moan from your lips. his thumb never let up on your clit, drawing tight circles that made your thighs tremble around his hips.

“feel that?” he groaned, pressing your hand down gently against your own lower belly, his eyes locked on yours, dark and wild with desire. “that’s me—so deep inside you.”

you could feel it—his cock, thick and pulsing, pressing against your insides from the inside out. the sensation made your breath hitch, made your body clench tight around him, earning a low, broken moan from his lips.

“fuck, baby… you’re so wet,” he muttered, hips rolling with deeper intent now, grinding into you as if he wanted to mold himself to every part of you. “can feel you dripping all over me.”

your body was burning, shaking with overstimulation and pleasure—but the way he moved, touched, and praised you only made the fire grow hotter.

“you gonna cum for me again?” he asked, thumb working your clit faster now. “wanna feel you fall apart on my cock.”

"yes shoyo, fuck, i'm cumming," you moaned.

hinata pulled out just slightly before slamming back in, his thrusts becoming more erratic, rougher, deeper—chasing both your highs like he needed it to breathe.

the only words you could form were broken chants of his name, over and over, like a prayer on your tongue—and he loved it. every sound you made pushed him closer to the edge.

hinata's eyes were wide in awe at the sight before him. you looked breathtaking—mouth open in bliss, chanting his name like it was the only word you knew, your tits bouncing with every deep thrust, decorated with the red and purple marks he'd left across your skin.

to him, you weren’t just beautiful. you were a goddess—divine, untouchable, and yet here you were, unraveling just for him.

he lets out a deep, guttural groan as he feels your walls clench tighter around him. you were so close—he could feel it in the way your body trembled, in the desperate way you held onto him. and fuck, so was he.

“come on, baby,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, breath shaky against your ear. “cum for me. i wanna feel you fall apart around me.”

his thrusts were deeper now, heavier—less rhythm, more need. the way you clenched around him, warm and tight, was making him unravel faster than he wanted to admit. but he held on, just long enough to get you there.

his thumb found your clit again, circling it with practiced pressure. your moans grew higher, breathier, body tensing beneath him. your hands clawed at his back, nails dragging down as the pleasure built and built until you couldn’t take it anymore.

you cried out his name, voice breaking, back arching off the mattress as your orgasm slammed into you like a wave. your whole body shook with it—legs trembling, walls fluttering around him so tightly he almost saw stars.

“that’s it,” he groaned, watching you fall apart completely. “just like that, baby. fuck—”

the way you squeezed him, so wet, so perfect, pushed him right over the edge. with a final, deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and came with a low, broken moan, spilling inside you. his hips stilled, trembling slightly, chest heaving as he pressed his forehead against yours.

you both stayed like that for a moment, breath mingling, skin hot and slick with sweat, hearts pounding in sync.

“fuck… you’re perfect,” he murmured again, softer this time, almost reverent. his arms wrapped around you protectively, pulling you into his chest like you were something fragile and precious.

your fingers found his hair, running through it gently, grounding both of you. and for a few quiet seconds, the world disappeared—just him, just you, tangled in warmth and something deeper than either of you could name.

hinata leans in, breath still heavy, and begins peppering your face with soft kisses—your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, anywhere his lips could reach. between each kiss, he mumbled in that warm, husky voice, “good girl… so good for me… fuck, you’re amazing…”

his fingers gently ran up and down your sides, grounding you as your body slowly came down from the high. you were still shaking slightly, but his touch was tender, soothing. each press of his lips felt like reassurance, like he couldn’t get enough of you—not just the sex, but you.

“you did so good,” he whispered again, eyes soft as they met yours. “you’re everything.”

he pulled you closer into his chest, tucking your head beneath his chin. his hand rubbed your back in slow, lazy circles while he continued to kiss your hairline.

of course, it didn’t stop with just one round.

the two of you were insatiable—drunk on each other, on every touch, every kiss, every moan that fell between tangled sheets. it was like something had snapped the moment he first slid into you, and now, neither of you could stop. time blurred, and the only thing that mattered was the way you felt in his arms, how perfectly your bodies moved together.

at one point, you were straddling him, thighs shaking but determined, riding his cock at your own rhythm. hinata laid beneath you, flushed and panting, his eyes dark with lust and adoration. his hands roamed your waist, guiding your movements as his mouth latched onto your breasts—kissing, licking, sucking like he couldn't get enough. he moaned against your skin every time you sank down fully, the wet drag of your bodies moving together making you both shudder.

"just like that, baby… ride me," he whispered, voice hoarse, lips brushing against your nipple. your name tumbled from his lips like a prayer, like you were something divine—something to be worshipped.

but he needed more.

he flipped you over with ease, manhandling you like you weighed nothing. the next thing you knew, you were on your knees, face down in the pillows, your ass raised high for him. he knelt behind you, hands spreading your cheeks as he watched his cock slide back into you with ease, slick from everything you’d already shared. the angle had you seeing stars instantly, your cries muffled in the sheets.

"fuck, look at this pussy... taking me so good," he groaned, leaning forward to press his chest against your back, his hand wrapping around both your wrists and pinning them behind you. you felt so exposed, so completely at his mercy—and you loved it.

his free hand found your hip, pulling you back into him with every thrust, and then—

smack.

his palm came down on your ass, the sting blooming across your skin and making you clench around him. he grunted, losing himself a little more every time your body reacted like that.

your mind was a haze of heat and pleasure, completely undone. words stopped making sense. all you could manage were broken, breathless moans and endless chants of his name.

you had no idea how many times you'd come—three? five? more?—but every time you thought you couldn’t take anymore, hinata gave you another reason to fall apart.

he never once let you go untouched. his lips, his hands, his voice—they were all over you. his mouth kissed your spine, your shoulders, your neck. he kept whispering filthy praise, calling you his good girl, his perfect baby, his everything.

"you’re so fucking pretty when you fall apart for me," he breathed, fingers digging into your waist. "so tight—so wet. fuck, i can’t get enough."

your legs trembled, body slick with sweat, sheets tangled around your limbs—but still, you wanted more. and so did he.

and long into the night, even when your body was too spent to move, he’d still be touching you, still be pressing kisses to your skin, still making you feel wanted, worshipped—completely his.

because this wasn’t just about sex.

it was about you. and for hinata, that was everything.

you thought you were done.

your bodies were sore, your legs barely steady, and your throats hoarse from the moaning, the whispering, the breathless gasps that filled every corner of the room. the sheets were a mess—damp and tangled, the air heavy with heat and the scent of shared pleasure. both of you were exhausted, limbs tangled together as your chests rose and fell in sync, basking in the quiet aftermath.

but hinata wasn’t quite finished.

"come on," he murmured softly, pressing a kiss to your temple as he stood. "we need a shower."

you groaned, muscles aching, but followed him into the bathroom, your hand resting in his like it belonged there. warm water began to cascade down, steam rising around you both as you stepped in together. he pulled you close beneath the stream, hands gliding over your skin with tender intent, washing away the sweat and evidence of everything you'd shared—at least, on the surface.

his fingers lingered a little too long. his gaze roamed, a spark reigniting behind those warm brown eyes. his touch shifted from gentle to teasing—thumb brushing over your nipple, hands sliding down the curve of your waist, his body pressing against yours from behind.

"i know we should stop," he whispered against your ear, his breath hot, "but you feel too good… i can't help it."

before you could answer, he was inside you again—slow, deep, the water masking your gasp as your hand gripped the slick wall for balance. you were already so full from the night, overstimulated and tender, but that only made every thrust feel more intense. every inch of him hit home, coaxing another wave of pleasure from a body that didn’t know it could take more.

"shoyo—" you whimpered, your voice trembling, but he only shushed you with a kiss to your shoulder, his pace steady, deliberate.

"just one more," he promised. “wanna feel you like this. warm, wet… mine.”

the water dripped down your bodies, slicking your skin as your back arched into him. he held you tight—one hand on your waist, the other slipping between your legs again, determined to wring out one last climax from you. and when you came, trembling under his touch, your name a breathless whisper on his lips, he followed not long after, burying himself deep with a groan of your name.

you leaned back into his chest, heart racing, your body humming with aftershocks.

and this time, when he washed you gently, carefully, whispering soft “thank yous” and “i love yous” between kisses, you knew—for sure—you weren’t just full of him.

you were full of something deeper. something lasting. something real.

you woke up the next morning feeling sore in places you didn’t even know could ache. every little movement reminded you of the night before—of his hands gripping your hips, his mouth trailing heat down your skin, the way your bodies moved together again and again until you both lost count.

but the ache was worth it.

you turned your head and smiled softly at the sight beside you—hinata, fast asleep, hair tousled and lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. his body bore the evidence of everything you gave him. faint red scratches down his back, purpling love bites along his collarbone and shoulders—your marks, painted proudly on his skin.

he looked peaceful, completely undone, and yet, wholly yours.

you reached out and gently traced a finger down one of the marks on his side, careful not to wake him. he stirred a little, brow twitching, but didn’t open his eyes—just moved closer, as if even in sleep, he needed to be near you.

your heart swelled.

yeah, you were sore. but if this was the price for being loved by him—touched, marked, and held like that—it was worth every single bruise, every ache, every breathless moment.

and you’d do it all over again.

you reached over to the bedside table, grabbing your phone with a quiet click of the screen. the morning light filtered perfectly through the curtains, casting a soft golden hue across the room. it was calm, warm—the kind of stillness that made everything feel dreamlike.

slipping on hinata’s hoodie, the fabric smelled like him—clean sweat, a hint of his shampoo, and something distinctly him. it was oversized on you, falling mid-thigh and completely swallowing your frame. the warmth of it soothed your sore muscles, a comforting reminder of last night.

you padded across the room toward the mirror, tucking strands of messy hair behind your ear. something about the glow in the room and the way the hoodie fell just right made you pause. you lifted your phone, angled it slightly, and snapped a mirror selfie.

it was casual, almost innocent at a glance—hoodie-wrapped, bare legs, no makeup, just soft morning light on bare skin. but if someone looked closer, really looked, they might notice the faint silhouette behind you. hinata’s muscular back, the curve of his shoulders half-covered by the sheets, was just barely visible in the corner of the frame. not enough to be obvious—just enough to hint.

you posted it anyway. no caption, just the image.

you laid back down on the bed, the soft mattress dipping slightly beneath your weight as you turned to face him. hinata was still asleep, his breaths slow and even, chest rising and falling in a rhythm that calmed you instantly.

the golden morning light streamed lazily through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room—and across him. it kissed his skin in the most delicate way, highlighting every dip and curve of his toned body. the tan of his skin looked impossibly rich in this light, glowing like sun-warmed bronze.

hinata’s eyes slowly fluttered open, adjusting to the soft golden light filtering through the curtains. it took him a second to focus, but the moment he saw you—curled beside him, wearing his hoodie, your hair a little messy and your lips curved in a sleepy smile—his heart felt like it might burst.

a soft, warm smile spread across his face as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“good morning, baby,” he murmured, his voice still raspy from sleep.

he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world worth waking up to. his thumb brushed gently across your cheekbone, his touch lazy, affectionate. “you look so pretty right now,” he added, voice low, like he didn’t want to break the calm.

you leaned into his touch, your nose brushing against his. “you’re not so bad yourself,” you teased, and he chuckled, eyes crinkling at the corners.

his arm slipped around your waist, pulling you close until your foreheads touched. “how are you feeling?” he asked, his tone more serious, concern hidden beneath the warmth in his voice.

“sore,” you admitted, with a grin. “but worth it.”

hinata let out a low laugh and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “i went a little crazy, huh?”

you shrugged, playful. “you were just passionate.”

his grin widened. “and you were perfect.”

his hands slid down to your thighs, warm and familiar, fingers tracing soft circles against your skin. slowly, deliberately, they inched higher, slipping beneath the oversized hoodie you wore—his hoodie. his touch was gentle, teasing, but purposeful.

“shoyo,” you whined, shifting slightly under his hand, “stop... i’m still sore.”

he paused, eyes flicking up to meet yours, a crooked smile forming on his lips. “sorry,” he murmured, not sounding sorry at all. “can’t help it. you’re just too pretty like this.”

his fingers rested just at the edge of your folds, not pressing further—just staying there, tempting. he leaned in, brushing his lips along your jaw, then your neck, slow and unhurried.

“i won’t do anything,” he whispered, voice low and soft. “just touching... promise.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the way your breath hitched when his thumb gently caressed the inside of your thigh, the sensation light but electric. he was taking his time, just enjoying the way your body responded to his touch—even in your sore, sensitive state.

“you’re insatiable,” you mumbled, barely suppressing a small gasp.

“only with you,” he said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, grinning against your skin. “besides... we don’t have to do anything. i just wanna feel you.”

his fingers traced the delicate curve of your folds, barely touching, just enough to make you shiver. the teasing motion sent a spark straight through your core, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that slipped past your lips.

“shoyo…” you breathed, your voice already tinged with need despite the soreness lingering in your body.

he grinned against your skin, lips ghosting over your neck as he murmured, “mm, hear that? you’re already getting wet for me again.”

his fingers moved a little more deliberately now—slow, featherlight strokes that made your thighs twitch and your breath hitch. the hoodie you wore suddenly felt too warm, too heavy, as heat bloomed between your legs.

you buried your face in the crook of his neck, hiding the way your cheeks burned. “you’re unbelievable,” you whispered, hips tilting just barely into his touch, betraying your own resistance.

“i could say the same about you,” he chuckled, fingers now slick with your arousal. “still sore, but your body’s already begging for more.”

his free hand slid up your back, holding you close while the other toyed with you—slow, careful circles that had your stomach tightening all over again. it was maddening, how easily he could unravel you even in the quiet, golden light of morning.

“just a little more,” he whispered. “let me make you feel good again.”

hinata was insatiable, and despite the soreness still lingering in your muscles, you found yourself on top of him once again. his hoodie was now discarded and crumpled beside the bed, long forgotten in the heat that bloomed between your bodies.

your thighs trembled slightly as you straddled him, but his hands on your hips steadied you—warm, firm, possessive. his mouth was latched onto your nipple, tongue flicking and lips sucking greedily, like he couldn’t get enough of you. soft whines and gasps spilled from your mouth as his teeth grazed your sensitive skin, leaving faint love bites in his wake.

“you drive me crazy,” he murmured against your chest, voice husky, breath warm.

you began to roll your hips slowly, your slick folds gliding over him, teasing him both with friction and restraint. he groaned, his head tipping back against the pillow, the veins on his neck straining as he fought to hold himself back.

your hands splayed over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your palms, and you smiled—half dazed, half wicked—as you sank down on him again.

his cock filled you deeply, stretching you open all over again, and your moan echoed his own. your pace started slow, deliberate, savoring every inch as your walls clenched around him.

“fuck—just like that,” he gritted out, hands tightening on your waist as you bounced on his cock, the wet sound of skin against skin filling the room.

every movement made your breasts bounce, and he couldn’t help but sit up, wrapping his arms around you, mouth finding your chest again as if he’d been starved for it.

“you’re so perfect like this,” he murmured between kisses. “riding me like you were made for it.”

and in that moment, with the sunlight casting a golden glow across your bare skin and his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer, it was impossible to disagree. every thrust, every moan, every desperate kiss he pressed to your collarbone made you feel like the center of his world—and you basked in it, drowning in the overwhelming pleasure only he could pull from you.

of course, hinata didn’t stop until he’d wrung two more orgasms from you—each one more intense than the last. your body trembled, overstimulated and utterly spent, but he held you through it, whispering soft praise and brushing sweaty strands of hair from your face.

“that’s it, baby… you’re amazing,” he murmured, voice rough but tender as he kissed your temple.

by the time he pulled the blankets over both of you, tucking you into his chest, you were already slipping back into sleep. your breathing slowed, your limbs heavy and warm, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your cheek.

he held you close, one arm wrapped protectively around your waist, his lips resting against your forehead as the morning quiet settled around you both.

when you woke up again you felt the other side of the bed empty.

"he probably went to the gym."

your guess was spot on the moment you saw the instagram notification pop up on your screen: shoyo_hinata just posted a photo.

curious, you opened it—only to nearly choke on your own breath. it was a picture of his back, shirtless, his toned muscles on full display and unmistakably covered in fresh scratch marks. red, raw, and clearly recent. and the caption? just a smirking emoji and a volleyball. classic hinata. subtle, but not really.

your own post from earlier—taken just an hour before—was now blowing up too. the mirror selfie you’d casually posted in his hoodie, his faint silhouette in the background, had fans in full detective mode. and they were ruthless.

your notifications were in chaos.

@spikemyheart: OH MY GOD IS THAT HINATA IN THE BACK??? @liberoinmydreams: wait the scratch marks on his post… YOU DID THAT??? @sweatyforthevballboys: y’all are literally feral i’m not even mad @kneesforhinata: this is so nsfw and i LOVE IT @softservequeen: you’re sore aren’t you. blink twice if you need electrolytes 💀

later that afternoon, hinata came back to the hotel room, still a little damp from the post-training shower he’d taken at the venue, his bag slung over his shoulder and a smug grin playing on his lips.

he dropped the bag by the door, immediately walking over to where you were lounging on the bed, scrolling through your phone—still trying to recover from the wild fan theories flooding your dms and comments.

“so…” he started, plopping down beside you and tugging you close until you were tucked against his chest. “guess the internet had a little meltdown today, huh?”

you groaned, hiding your face against his neck. “don’t even start. some people are already making tiktoks syncing the posts with timestamps and analyzing the lighting.”

hinata chuckled, low and satisfied. “well… serves them right. we were subtle. kinda.”

you looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “subtle? you posted your back covered in scratches like you just survived a bear attack.”

he shrugged, clearly unbothered. “what? it’s art.”

then he tilted his head slightly, grin turning mischievous. “but hey…” he leaned in, brushing his lips just shy of your ear. “you think they’re still gonna link you with that actor now?”

you stiffened, pulling back to stare at him. “shoyo—”

he laughed, fully amused at your expression. “what? just saying. guess they know exactly who made those marks now, huh?”

you smacked his shoulder lightly, cheeks burning. “you’re impossible.”

“mmh. maybe. but at least now they know you’re mine.” he said it so easily, like it was the most obvious truth in the world.

as if on cue, your phone buzzed in your hand, screen lighting up with a message from your pr team:

[urgent – need you at the office asap. call when you’re en route.]

you stared at it for a moment, dread pooling in your stomach. hinata glanced down at your expression, then raised a brow. “bad timing?”

you sighed, sitting up slowly and tossing your phone onto the bed with a groan. “it’s my pr team. i think they saw the posts.”

he leaned back on his hands, clearly not surprised. “oh, now they noticed?”

you shot him a look. “they’re probably trying to figure out how to spin this before it explodes more than it already has.”

hinata just grinned, watching you pull his hoodie back on. “want me to say i scratched myself in my sleep?”

you blinked at him, deadpan. “please never say that in front of my publicist.”

he chuckled, standing up and helping you gather your things, stealing a kiss here and there as you tried to get dressed. “don’t stress, babe. worst case, we just tell them the truth.”

“that i spent the weekend getting railed by japan’s volleyball star?”

“well…” he smirked, leaning in to kiss your neck. “worked out pretty great for both our engagement, didn’t it?”

you shook your head, unable to fight your smile as you grabbed your phone again. chaos or not, the internet could wait. but your publicist definitely couldn’t.

you sat inside the sleek glass-walled conference room of your agency’s office, dressed in a hoodie you borrowed (stole) from hinata’s suitcase and a pair of oversized sunglasses to shield your face from curious stares. despite the casual outfit, the room was filled with an unmistakable energy. your manager, two assistants, and even someone from the PR team were all seated across the table — and right next to you was hinata, legs sprawled, hand casually resting on your thigh under the table like this wasn’t the most high-stakes meeting of your month.

you felt slightly overwhelmed, if not dazed, from the sudden turn your morning had taken. not even an hour ago, you were in bed, your hair still damp from a too-long shower turned… something else. now you were staring at a stack of documents and your manager practically vibrating with excitement.

“okay, i’m just going to say it,” your manager started, slapping a stack of printouts on the table. “this is insane — and i mean that in the best way possible.”

you raised a brow. “what is?”

“you. hinata. the photo. both of your photos. the internet basically exploded.” she turned a few pages, revealing printed-out screenshots of social media reactions. “you broke the algorithm.”

hinata leaned in, amused, as your manager continued. “people figured it out immediately. ‘oh my god, is that hinata’s back?’ ‘are those her nails on his shoulder?’ and don’t get me started on the slow-motion analysis videos on tiktok.”

you felt heat rise to your cheeks. “they’re analyzing the nails?”

“yes,” one of the assistants chimed in. “there’s already a fan account documenting your ‘secret soft launch’ relationship timeline.”

hinata chuckled beside you. “i told you they’d figure it out. you think they’re still gonna link you with that actor guy now?”

you shot him a side glance. “i forgot about him.”

“your pr team didn’t,” said the woman from PR, adjusting her glasses. “but don’t worry. that ship has officially sailed. now, onto the real news…”

she pulled up a presentation on her laptop and turned it toward you. “endorsements. projects. appearances. not just for you individually — but together. turns out, everyone wants a piece of the ‘it couple.’”

you stared at the screen in disbelief. makeup brands, fashion lines, travel companies, even a luxury watch brand — all with interest in pairing you and hinata together for campaigns. one of them was a magazine shoot titled undeniable chemistry. another was a high-profile drama offer for a couple-centric storyline, with an optional steamy twist if “the actors are comfortable.”

hinata whistled under his breath. “we’re gonna be busy.”

your manager grinned. “if you say yes to even half of these, you’re set for the year.”

you leaned back in your chair, overwhelmed but not entirely displeased. the idea of working so closely with hinata was… distracting in a way that made your stomach flutter. he must’ve sensed it, because his thumb gently rubbed slow circles on your thigh under the table.

“so,” your manager asked, eyes expectant. “do we want to ride the wave?”

hinata answered before you could. “yeah. we’re in.”

you looked at him, wide-eyed. “you’re just going to agree to everything?”

“not everything,” he said, smirking. “but the stuff with you? absolutely.”

you tried to play it cool, but the way his voice dipped lower at the end made something in you stir. you crossed your legs, subtly pressing them together.

“fine,” you said, clearing your throat. “we’ll look through the offers.”

“great,” the PR rep said. “oh, and… try to keep it PG for a bit. at least until the magazine cover drops.”

hinata gave a lazy shrug. “no promises.”

you groaned, dragging a hand over your face. “this is going to be a lot.”

“maybe,” hinata said, grinning at you sideways. “but at least it’ll be fun.”

and deep down, even with your nerves tangled and your heart racing, you knew he was right.

you eventually left the meeting with a folder full of contracts, a dozen potential collaborations swirling in your head, and hinata’s hand still comfortably entwined with yours. the hallway buzzed with agency staff and interns sneaking glances, whispering to each other, probably already texting their friends about seeing you two together in person.

as the elevator doors closed, hinata leaned against the mirrored wall, watching you with that lazy, satisfied smile.

“you good?” he asked, voice softer now that it was just the two of you.

you looked down at your reflection, then up at his. “i don’t know. i think so? it’s a lot. but also kind of… exciting.”

he tilted his head. “scary?”

“a little,” you admitted.

hinata reached out, brushing your hair behind your ear. “well, don’t worry. we’ll figure it out.”

“you sure about that?”

he leaned in, lips ghosting over your jaw. “you’re stuck with me now. might as well enjoy it.”

you laughed under your breath, eyes fluttering shut for just a second, letting the moment settle. the doors opened with a soft ding, and the sunlight poured in once more, casting that same golden glow that started this whole thing.

you stepped out together — not just into the lobby, not just into a brand-new set of projects and headlines — but into something that felt, for once, completely right.

you didn’t look back.

[myficsareset]

Love at first sight with Luffy

Love at First Sight (Luffy x Reader)

A/N : I don't know if this was exactly what you wanted but I hope you'll like it anyway ! Sorry if there's a few mistakes, English is not my first language and I was kinda tired writing this but it was really great to write ! Let me know if you'd like a part 2 !

As you were busy taking orders in the little restaurant you worked in, you heard the door open and turned your head when you heard a bunch of people talking loudly. There were five people now standing at the entrance of the restaurant and you thought that they made quite an interesting group.

As you looked at them, your gaze was immediatly drawn to a young man, a boy that stood among them, wearing a strawhat that covered brown curls. He had a huge grin on his face and was scanning the place, probably looking for a free table.

You stared at him for a few minutes, completly forgetting that you actually had work to do and that part of your job included welcoming new customers.

You hadn't met many people in your life, since you never had the opportunity to leave the small island where you lived, but this young man was probably the cutest you had ever layed eyes upon. There was just something about him that made you impossible to look away.

The brown haired finally turned his head in your direction and you were met by beautiful brown eyes, sparkling with joy and something else you couldn't quite put a name on. The boy had lost his smile and was now looking at you with such wide eyes that you started to feel weird. Your hand tightened on your notebook as your felt your cheeks starting to flush.

A green haired man nudged the straw hat boy who immediately broke eye contact. Your looked away and took a deep breath as if you breath had been taken away.

You opened your notebook, deciding that it was time to go back to work and went to the counter to pass the new orders to your colleagues. You still felt a little weird because of what had just happened but you decided to ignore it and to look around for more orders to take.

You noticed that the only new customers in the restaurant were the group with the strawhat boy.

Your heart started to race when you saw him sitting at the table a few meters away from you, talking cheerfully to his mates. Were you actually going to approach him ? Yes, because it was your job. Why were you so nervous about this anyway ?

You took a deep breath as you made your way to the table and once again your eyes met with the boy, making you instantly blush.

"Hello, what-what can I get for you ?" you asked, looking at him and trying not to show that you were actually very flustered.

The more you looked at him and the more familiar he felt to you. It was a weird feeling but it was actually very nice.

The boy had opened wide eyes and was staring at you without saying anything.

"I didn't know he could stop talking." the green haired man said sarcastically.

"Luffy ? The waitress is talking to you." said a girl with orange hair.

Luffy. So that was his name. You didn't know why but hearing his name felt like music to your ears and you couldn't help but smile a little.

Your cheeks flushed even more as you kept looking at the boy in front of you, who seemed to be totally lost in his thoughts.

He was really beautiful.

Luffy blinked and got back to reality, but he still looked at you like no one had ever looked at you before. His gaze felt warm and gentle, but also very intense.

"Were going to take a bit of everything." he said with that same smile he had earlier, but this time it was clearly addressed to you.

A warmth started spreading through your whole body and you couldn't help but smile back at him, also a little surprised by his request.

His smile felt warm in your heart and somewhat familiar. He really did have a beautiful smile.

Your eyes simply couldn't look away as your thoughts started to race in your head. You had never felt anything like this before.

What was happening to you ?

"Someone's hungry." you replied after a few seconds, both amused and surprised to see that he had ordered the whole menu.

The boy smiled.

"I'm the future king of the pirates so I need to eat enough food !" he said with that same smile plastered on his face.

Future king of the pirates ? That was really ambitious but you thought it was actually endearing. He had dreams and goals and you thought that it added to his charm. And just by looking at him, you just had the feeling that this boy was capable of doing anything.

"I'll get you plenty of food, don't worry mister future king of the pirates." you said smiling.

His eyes widened at the nickname and you could swear that you saw his cheeks turned a little pink.

Wasn't he adorable ?

You decided to look away and took the orders of his friends, before walking away.

You stopped and leaned against the counter of the bar, trying to regain your composure. You heart was beating like crazy and you just couldn't stop your racing thoughts. Your mind was still thinking about Luffy, that beautiful stranger you had just met and exchanged a few words with.

You felt like you were going crazy but most of all, you felt like you were falling in love.

[ghostedgwen]

can we have the marauders protecting reader who got drunk during a party and was being taken away by some boys or something? sorry if it's triggering!

note : oh my god, this ask had me rolling on my bed thinking of how I am gonna go about this - thank you so much for trusting me with this request! warning/s : themes of s/a, sensitive content, nothing graphic but heavy implications are there, the marauders are very angry - and protective, mentions of alcohol and parties

You don’t mean to get drunk. It’s not like you came to the party with bad intentions or a heartbreak to drink through - just a need to loosen the weight of the week off your shoulders.

The Hufflepuff common room is filled with golden light, music echoing off the stone, and warm, laughing voices that blend together into something safe.

Marlene handed you a drink, kissed your cheek, and said, “Have fun, yeah?” before disappearing off with Mary toward the exit. You hadn’t minded.

She invited you earlier but you weren't sure if you wanted to attend, you were reviewing your answers to the N.E.W.T.s exam that just took place - but figured it would be better to go party a bit than worry over it.

You arrived around 10 in the evening when the party had started around 7, and Marlene is off to guide a drunk Mary back to the common room where Lily will surely chastise them for getting drunk on a school night.

She was very much against you going, you supposed she was right to.

You remember dancing. Spinning in slow circles with a drink in your hand, head tilted back, lips curved into something that could pass for joy.

The burn of the alcohol made your skin feel warmer. Your arms looser. Your thoughts fuzzy around the edges. You remember boys - older ones = leaning over you at some point. Hufflepuffs you think, and at least one Ravenclaw, judging by the bronze-and-blue bracelet he had on.

They seemed kind at first. Too kind, maybe, but you didn’t notice. Not when they laughed at your jokes or kept filling your cup or told you you looked pretty, which felt rare enough these days to let your guard slip.

You only notice something’s wrong when they start steering you toward the back of the common room - where the hallway narrows and bends toward the dormitories.

“Wait,” you murmur, blinking slow. “I don’t - the exit is that way - ”

“You’re pissed,” one of them chuckles, his hand firm on your lower back. “You’ll just get lost. We’ve got a spare bed upstairs. You can lie down.”

“Or not,” another one says under his breath. You catch the tone before the words.

You freeze. “No - I need to go back.”

The laughter sharpens. You try to step back and bump into someone’s chest. Hands close around your elbows. They’re not hurting you, not exactly - but they’re not letting go. Not listening. There’s too many of them, and your limbs are too slow, and your head feels too full.

You open your mouth to say something else - anything else - when a voice cuts through the corridor like a blade.

The Marauders have taken up residence near the far wall - Sirius perched on the arm of a chair, James cross-legged on the floor with a butterbeer, Remus half-listening to a conversation about Quidditch stats, Peter already dozing lightly against a pile of pillows.

It’s been a good night, by all accounts. A perfect way to send off their N.E.W.T.s exams that they slaved over for months.

At least, until Sirius stills beside them.

His eyes narrow, expression twisting slightly as he tilts his head, watching something across the room. “Isn’t that ____?” he says finally, nudging James with the toe of his boot. “The other Gyiffindor - the one that’s always with Marlene and Mary.”

James looks up, squinting through the firelight. “Merlin, I forget she exists sometimes. Since when was she here?”

“I don’t know. But that’s definitely her.” Sirius’s voice is low now, distracted. “Thought she left already. with Marls.”

Remus follows their line of sight - to a dim corner of the common room, where you’re half-supported by a group of boys from other houses. One of them has his hand curls around your waist, another murmurs something close to your ear that makes you flinch slightly before laughing it off.

James frowns. “She looks. . .drunk, absolutely pissed.”

“She looks done,” Remus says quietly, and something sharp enters his voice.

There’s a beat of hesitation. The kind that stretches taut.

Sirius then surprises his friends when he hops off the chair.

James glances at him. “What's wrong, Pads?”

“We should go get her.”

Peter stirs beside them. “Wait - is she alright?”

“No,” Remus says - uncharacteristically looking like he's about to break something, already on his feet. “She’s not.”

The four of them move, a pack without needing to speak. James starts walking first - not running, not causing a scene. Just moving fast enough that anyone watching would sense something was wrong.

By the time they round the corner, they’ve already watched you try to turn back. Already seen you brushed off. Already watched someone guide you further, not toward the exit - toward the dorms.

That’s all they need to see. And then:

“Let her go.” James' voice broke into your struggle with the other boys.

It’s not loud. But it doesn’t need to be.

The boys pause. The one behind you lets go, not out of guilt - more out of instinct, like he'd been caught wrist deep in the proverbial cookie jar. Something in the tone makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

You turn your head - the corridor seems brighter now - and see four figures at the end of the hallway.

James Potter is at the front, wand in hand, shoulders squared like someone raised to command attention. Sirius Black flanks his left, wild-eyed and sharp-jawed, hands clenched into fists. Peter Pettigrew hovers behind, uncertain but alert. But it’s Remus Lupin who moves forward first - and he is furious.

You’ve never seen Remus angry before. Not really. You’ve sat in class beside him once or twice, heard him answer questions in that low, steady voice, seen him nod politely in hallways. But this - this is a different person.

He walks up without hesitation and steps between you and the nearest boy. “I said, let her go.”

“She’s fine,” the Ravenclaw mutters. “We were just helping her back. She can’t walk on her own - ”

Remus cuts him off. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

James moves in now, calm but firm. “Back off,” he says, voice levelled like a Prefect giving a final warning - the fact remains that he's currently Head Boy. “We’ve got her.”

“You don’t even know her,” one of them scoffs. “This is none of your business.”

“Wrong,” Remus snaps. “I'm a Prefect and James here is Head Boy, the welfare of fellow students is our business.”

There’s a flicker of movement - Sirius stepping forward now, lips curled in something that isn’t quite a smile. “Go ahead. Try saying that again.”

You feel like you’re swaying. Your knees are buckling under you, head too heavy to hold upright. You reach for the wall, but someone steadies you - James. His arm slips around your back gently, guiding you away from the others.

“Let’s not hex them here,” he mutters to Remus, who is still glaring at the boy who spoke up, like he’s imagining a dozen creative curses. “She’s our priority. We can duel them another day.”

Remus doesn’t respond. But he doesn’t lunge forward, either.

You’re shaking. You don’t know why. No one hurt you. They didn’t even say anything cruel. But something about it - the way you’d been cornered, touched, steered like you were furniture - rattles something deep in your chest.

Your eyes are burning. Your throat’s tight. You didn’t think this sort of thing would happen to you.

“I didn’t know,” you whisper, not sure who you’re talking to. “I didn’t think - ”

“Don’t,” James says quietly, steadying you again. “You don’t owe anyone an explanation.”

Remus still hasn’t looked away from the boys, but he speaks - his voice low, furious, directed to them more than you. “You knew what you were doing. Every step of the way. Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

One of the boys sneers towards your direction. “She’s the one who got drunk.”

“Yeah,” Remus breathes. “And you’re the ones who thought that gave you permission.”

James grips your shoulder more tightly. “We’re done here. Let’s get her back to the tower.”

They turn you around carefully, shielding you with their bodies. Sirius walks slightly behind - silent, but furious in the way his eyes stay locked on the boys until you’re safely out of sight.

You don’t say anything as they lead you through the corridors. You’re afraid if you speak, the tears you’ve been holding back will come flooding out.

And something about their silence - angry, awkward, but oddly gentle - makes you feel safer than you’ve felt in hours.

end. masterlist

choosing to end it here as I don't know where else to take this - feel free to send me more requests <3

[cherimoyatea]

The LaDs Men healing your inner child...

...they accidentally evoke your insecurities and comfort you.

❧ Part I - Xavier - One bite away...

Pairing: Xavier x You Synopsis: You feel unappreciated because Xavier wasted your cupcakes. Tags: confused xavier almost food poisoning himself, irritated mc, food waste, mentioning of blood (a little), fluff, romance, comfort Word Count: 750 Side Notes: So, this actually turned out a bit longer than originally intended, but my brain kept spilling ideas, so I just went with it (we haven't been close lately, so I take what I can get *coughs*) I had planned to write a draft for all four men and post it in one go, but they ended up being a bit longer, so I decided to create a little series instead and post it as short stories. Deliberately avoided specifying the traumas so that everyone can project their own ideas if they like. I'm still new to writing about LaDs, but I tried to capture each man's personality as best as possible. Starting off with Xavier, since October is his birthday month! 🎉✨ Part II - Rafayel ❧ Part III - Zayne ❧ Part IV Sylus

''Huh? What do you mean by 'I'm leaving?' You just got here.'' Xavier looks at you, confused, as you turn your back on him and head towards the front door. He rubs his sleepy eyes, still unsure of what exactly happened.

You found him sleeping on the sofa in his apartment earlier and used the spare key after ringing the bell in vain. At first, you were touched by how cute and vulnerable your boyfriend looked in his sleep, but your feelings quickly shifted when your gaze fell on his open kitchen counter.

On your way to the hallway, you again, spot the cupcakes you baked for Xavier three days ago. They're still sitting untouched on the counter, and the unrefrigerated buttercream looks anything but fresh by now. You take the plate with the cupcakes and walk over to the trashbin, while a burning feeling of disappointment spreads within you as you press the foot pedal of the bin, opening the lid.

All for nothing.

You spent half the morning preparing a surprise for your boyfriend, and he hasn't even tried your baked goods. The thought that your effort went unappreciated weighs heavily on you, and you just want to leave his apartment as quickly as possible.

''Wait, what's going on here?'' You suddenly hear his voice and startle as he unexpectedly appears behind you, snatching the plate from your hands without you realizing it.

''Everything's fine. Just leave it alone.'' You shake your head, still annoyed by his lack of interest in your baking. ''Cupcakes need to be refrigerated, or they will go bad.'' Your serious stare shifts from the plate in his hands back to Xavier's bewildered face as you sigh with a defeated shrug. ''Guess, I have to throw them away now.''

''Xavier! Have you lost your mind? You could really get sick from that!''

You reach out and try to take the plate from him, but he quickly steps back and pulls it away. ''Nope. They're mine'' he replies with a soft smile, as you watch him set the plate down on the counter and take a moldy piece of pastry. Your eyes widen as he brings it to his mouth to take a bite, and you quickly grab the dessert from his hand and throw it into the trashbin.

He looks genuinely distressed as he stares at your baked goods in the trash and berates himself for his own negligence. ''You really didn’t have to do that, MC... I'm sure they would’ve still been delicious.''

An awkward silence fills the room as you sigh and follow his gaze. ''Why did you even leave them on the counter? You usually finish my food in no time...''

Only then do your eyes catch the small bloodstain at the bottom of his white sweater, and you gasp as you lift the hem. ''Xavier, what the...?!'' Your heart drops as you notice the bandage awkwardly wrapped around his right hip and he quickly pulls his sweater over the injury, attempting to hide the leaking wound, but it's too late— you have already seen it.

And suddenly everything becomes clear: Your beloved didn't eat the cupcakes because he wasn't home. He was completely unaware of the surprise you prepared for him and collapsed on his couch after he got back, drained and exhausted.

''Xav, don't tell me you were on a mission that I didn't know about...''

You say, suddenly feeling so bad for being upset over him just a minute ago.

''And what if I was?''

For a brief moment, Xavier turns away, trying to avoid your concerned expression as he considers whether to be honest with you. But then he lets out a sigh and steps closer, meeting your gaze softly.

Blue, warm eyes study every muscle on your face, trying to read your mind while you hear his soothing voice. ''Sorry for not enjoying your pastries in time. Please don't think that I don't appreciate what you do for me.''

Guilt runs through your veins as you realize that moments earlier, your partner was willing to put his health at risk in order to improve your mood, His selflessness, brings tears to your eyes, and you feel the suffocating sense of worthlessness slowly vanish from your body.

The handsome silver-blonde man softly brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, his warm eyes fixed on yours. ''I've fought through every battle just to come back to you, MC. You are seen and cherished—always keep that in mind.''

Thanks for reading!

Cheri 🍒

Updated Nov. 20th:

Added links to the other parts + fixed formatting.

[tomieafterdark]

Toxic!Eren drabble (18+ minors dni) 

Synopsis: you want to break up but your bf is too toxic to allow that. 

Recently I had a conversation with someone and it kind of inspired this drabble (If you feel like Eren is not like canon Eren here, it is because his personality here is also based on whoever inspired this smut), except he did not fuck me after saying he would leak shit if i backstabbed him. Also a tiny disclaimer: I feel like this is obvious but I will say it anyway, everything written in this is purely fictional and should be kept that way. If anyone tries this with you in real life, get help. This is also not an accurate representation of my dynamic with whoever this smut is based on, he just has his “moments” and I like making smut out of them. That is all.

About ten minutes ago, you told Eren you wanted to break up. Things aren’t working out, and he’s way too much for you right now. Instead of having a normal reaction, he does the unthinkable—threatening to leak certain information about you and certain pictures.

It hurts you deeply, not to the core but close enough. Trust isn’t easy to build up, and it was even worse for you considering your past wounds that still haven’t healed. Every bit of trust you had built up just shattered in that moment, as if it was never there to begin with. 

He is dangerously good with words, sometimes it makes you feel like you’re his puppet and he pulls the strings whenever he wants to. Even if you can resist his words, his intense stare will pull you in instead. He has the most beautiful eyes, of course no one can resist their pull. 

When you were upset about him threatening to leak your information and photos, he just started pulling the strings without a care in the world which is what led you here; back arched, face buried in the plushie, whimpering and crying as he pounds you with no mercy. 

Your mind is foggy, you still haven’t processed the words that came out of his mouth when you wanted to break up. You did not, in a million years, expect those words to come out of him. It pretty much feels like a knife to your throat. Just as you are about to get lost in thought and perhaps cry some more, he grabs a handful of your hair and pulls on it harshly. 

“Get a grip.” He says coldly and lets go of your hair. 

You try to argue back, but he is 5 steps ahead and starts circling your clit before you even open your mouth. Whatever you were wanting to say just comes out as incoherent blabbers and whimpering as your insides squeeze tighter around him. He chuckles in response and mutters “that's what I thought” under his breath.

Since he is 5 steps ahead he is also aware you will cum any second now, which is why he switches positions quite hastily. He has your legs resting behind your ears as he teases your entrance by barely giving you the tip. He knows you get needy and will do or say anything to cum. You look up at him, that smug sadistic look on his face puts you in subspace faster than you can blink. At this point he practically got what he wanted, you won't want a breakup after this. Whatever else he does to you is just for fun. 

“Please..” you plead, looking up at him with puppy eyes. You had cried so much earlier that your face was glowing from it.  

“Repeat what you were telling me earlier babe,” he says while continuing to tease your sensitive entrance with the tip. “Tell me how I am too much for you and how you don't want to continue this!” You can hear the anger in his voice now, he does not take kindly to breakups unless he is the one doing it. This was peak betrayal to him. 

Something about him turns you into a horny nymph, even though this was your chance to resist and actually break up with him, your body and mind were both betraying you completely. You were so desperate for him, being manhandled and fucked disrespectfully hard by him was the only thing on your mind right now. His firm grip on your thighs, as he was pushing them back further, was not helping. He could feel your pussy squeezing and fluttering around his tip, even if you were not saying a word right now the rest of your body was very loud and clear. 

You feel your eyes watering again, from the frustration this time. It doesn't help that he is staring right into them, all while caressing your face. Staring into his eyes, especially with the state you are currently in felt like a trance. You were so lost in his eyes, you weren't even aware of how you were trying your best to move against his tip, completely desperate for any friction you could get.    

You have no idea how much your crying turns him on, same with your frustration and desperation. It was about time he reminded you again of how badly you need him, a reminder that no one but him could get you to act like this just for dick. He was equally desperate for you, probably more frustrated than you but he is so stoic and cold on the outside. You would never know. He had enough of messing with you though, and by the looks of it you were nearing your edging limit. 

His right hand lets go of your thigh, creeping up to your neck instead. He keeps eye contact as he chokes you very lightly. He is so close to your face, staring deep into your eyes with a predatory look. It makes you shudder, but it also makes you want to spread your legs even more for him. 

The way he suddenly bottoms out fully, with no warning, has you seeing stars. You had been in this position with previous partners, but none of them reached this deep inside of you. You have to bite your cheek to not scream, especially when you look down on your stomach for a split second and you can see his dick print on it. You suddenly remember that back when you had just gotten to know each other, you texted him saying you want him in your guts. Looks like you got what you wished for. 

He chokes you harder while pushing your head back, making you look right into his eyes again. His stare is so intense, you want to look away sometimes. His stare made you feel so vulnerable and exposed, it cut right through all your layers and saw right through your soul. It would not be too far off to say his eyes were fucking your soul. 

“I-I’m gonna cum-” you whimper, struggling to keep eye contact. You know exactly what you have to say next if you don't want him to suddenly stop and edge you even more.

“I’m sorry for causing unnecessary drama-” you cry out. “I-I was wrong..I do not want to break up..I love you!” 

“That's right.” He smiles and starts thrusting into you even harder, he drops eye contact now and the focus shifts to between your legs. He is obsessed with how you take all of him in so well, he loves watching you swallow him whole and he especially loves that you are so sensitive that you quiver and squeeze around him at every movement he does. 

He doesn't stop fucking you when you cum. Not even slowing down the pace. 

Instead, both his hands are on your hips now slamming you against his pelvis. You keep squirting, but he doesn't stop even for a second. You are so overstimulated at this point, every few thrusts make you cum all over him. 

You are close to tapping out at this point, eyes rolling at the back of your head. You are in safe hands though, he may be toxic and not allow you to break up because he is too possessive and wants to almost own you, but with that comes him being extremely careful of you. He pulls out and slaps you lightly to wake you up, fully attentive of you now. 

“Babe, are you okay?” He asks, albeit in a cold uncaring tone, but that's just how he sounds in general. He really does care.  

He comes back and slaps you again lightly, holding a glass of water in his other hand. You wake up this time. 

You don't really say anything when you regain consciousness nor do you drink the water, you just mumble “I am fine” under your breath and start straddling him. There is something about his caring nature that turns you on so much, his attention to detail is already attractive as it is but when it shows like this during sex it just makes you want him on a different level. 

The breakup was history at this point, now you were on top of him whispering dirty things in his ears. You wanted him to fill you to the brim with his cum, then fuck you with all the cum in you and cum in you some more. You had never met a guy that unlocked this side of you, it feels unreal, he is so perfect it drives you mad. 

“Please fill me up, I need you so bad..” You were crying in his ears as you quickly slid his cock inside of you, wasting no time and starting bouncing on it. “I truly am sorry for earlier, I could never be without you!” 

He is both amused and extremely turned on by your behavior, mostly turned on though as he wastes no time, putting you on your back with your legs on his shoulders. Eren had no idea how hot he looked, the sounds he was making was music to your ears. You were staring in awe as he came inside of you. 

You truly can't get enough of him, so when he collapses next to you on the bed, you crawl over to him licking him clean hoping it will lead to a round two in the shower perhaps. 

Author's note: I did not proofread this. If you find any mistakes, take it to the grave pls. 

© 2024 tomieafterdark | All rights reserved

[s0lar-ch3ri]

wish we could talk but your stone walls leave me hurt

(title is lyric from here we go again by mikayla geier i believe is her last name, theres a tiny bit of arguing but its hurt/comfort guys its not like my other one i prommy)

woah fic link time go my scarabs i guess

Troy thought he was pretty freaking great. I mean, he was. He won so many games (3/7, that’s a huge number), everyone loved him (everyone who mattered at least), and he was so awesome (this one didn’t need any explanation). His little bee might be a tad on edge, but that’s fine. No, that’s completely normal and not his fault at all. Nothing for Troy to worry about.

Cog, did it get cold! I mean, Troy’s so smart, he knows snow is cold, but it’s been a bit since it got bad enough to a point where they had him go home earlier (it was NOT from the wipeout, shut up, that didn’t happen, and he didn’t need to tell anyone it happened). It may have been closer to go to his dad’s house, a bit easier too, but Troy liked a little challenge, it kept him on his feet and ready for anything. He wasn’t ever worried to show his dad when he got hurt, or anybody, he just wanted to visit his pretty awesome boyfriend and had no ulterior motives ever.

A feeling Troy wasn’t used to, yet was getting too often to like, was a twinge in his chest as he went to knock on the door. There was the smallest of voices in the back of his head, one saying he’d be turned away and shamed, one who said he’d be unwanted if he showed up in this state. But he’s Troy! He’s awesome, the most awesome, and ever so cool. In fact, dare he say it, he’s the best ever! He doesn’t need to worry. This is Lint, and if Lint loved him, everyone loved him, everyone that mattered.

He knocked on the door.

Lint opened the door, a look of concern on his face as he met Troy’s gaze (who wouldn’t look at Troy with such care, he’s so awesome, right?), looking at him up and down as if trying to decipher what he’d say to a brick wall.

“You’re hurt.”

“Hoo hah rise up?”

“Gah, get inside.”

It seems as though Lint wasn’t charmed the pants off by his totally awesome and not-at-all goofy smile. Maybe he didn’t like when the facial injuries made blood drip from him. Whatever, men covered in blood might be hot. That’s- that’s a normal thought. Yes it is. One hundred percent. We move on.

It wasn’t exactly the first time Lint had to patch Troy up from injuries of steam-sledding. It’s just never been under this kind of circumstance. It’s been after tournaments and such, but not too much Troy going to Lint’s house as the sun was setting to get something cared for. Which, that totally wasn’t the plan, he just wanted to see his boyfriend, who could agree he’s awesome, unlike his dad (well, he totally would, just- it’s complicated, shut up, don’t think about it).

“What was it this time?”

“Huh?”

“The reason you’re this bad? How big a fluke was it?”

“Psh, no, it’s nothing, I’m fine. Thanks though.”

Lint stopped cleaning the wounds. “You can’t be doing this again.”

“Hm?”

“You can’t keep fucking- no, I’m not gonna put up with this again!” It’s a kind of anger Troy wasn’t used to. Troy, however smart he totally is, was utterly lost in whatever Lint could mean. He tilted his head in a way that may or may not resemble that of a confused dog as Lint put down the cleaning tools and stormed to the other side of the room. His hands were shaking (he couldn’t have been cold, his place was pretty warm, strange), and his breathing seemed more stiff, as if he was forcing himself to breathe at a normal pace (not that Troy would know anything about that, totally).

“Dude- I mean babe, my Honey Bee, what’s up?” Troy was a master of words.

“I don’t like being lied to Troy, you- you should know this!”

“Lie-”

Lint turned to yell at him, as if the raising of his voice wasn’t enough to send a message (knowing Troy, maybe it never was). “Every time I bother to ask, it’s always nothing, or something to not worry over, just-” He starts angrily buzzing. He does that.

Troy walked over to him, trying to grab onto his hands, trying to make sense of him. “Can’t you just tell me what’s wrong dude-”

Lint smacked away his hands, they stung a bit (pun unintended). Lint had so much anger in his eyes. Troy caught onto the tears that streamed from them, like a slowly melting ice glacier. “Can’t you just tell me what’s wrong dude?!!”

“I don’t und-”

“TALK TO ME COG-DAMN IT! I CAN FUCKING TAKE IT! I’M YOUR BOYFRIEND, WHY CAN’T YOU TRUST ME?!”

Troy went silent. His heartbeat was pretty fast. He was shaking, but totally from the cold. They were still inside. It was just the cold, yeah. Lint was shaking too, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

“H-”

“Go.”

Normally, Troy hated taking orders. However, this was Lint, and he was Troy, and Lint loved Troy, and Lint was the only one that mattered. He walked into some side room (he didn’t know if he wanted to risk the cold outside with unwrapped wounds), closing the door carefully and sitting behind it.

Troy can’t recall if he’s ever seen his boyfriend so angry. He doesn’t know if he’s just never shown it before. Troy held himself to be so great, and Lint always agreed. He didn’t want to give him any other idea. He didn’t need to give anybody that idea, he was awesome, and he never needed to explain why.

Maybe that’s because Troy couldn’t figure out how to explain why.

As Troy? He’s Troy, he’s gonna always be awesome! As a person? People wouldn’t get it when he explained that. He to them was self-absorbed, vain, an idiot, and thinking how, he’s unsure how wrong he is.

Maybe that was the issue. He was too great.

He couldn’t be anything but great. Not for his dad, not for his team, not for Lint. It was really a lie when he told him it was nothing, huh?

Cog, how many times had he said that? He couldn’t remember. Every small dismissal of himself, the asking without thanks- has Troy ever even said please? Lint has done so much good for someone who was great, so why has someone so bad done nothing for someone so much better than great could be? He took his boyfriend for granted, and yet he’s stayed because…Troy doesn’t know. His greatness? Is he really that? His steamsledding skills? Considering the situation, those weren’t good enough for him, and even if they were, Lint wasn’t that kind of guy. His looks? Not that kind of guy again, no, he thought of nothing Lint could be with him for.

Troy probably wasn’t unlikable, just…unsure if he was dating material.

A knock outside startled Troy, making him jump forward a bit more than he should have. The door opened, a puffy-eyed and tired Lint staring down at a still-injured and looking-like-a-flame-in-a-snowstorm Troy on the ground, slightly wide-eyed.

“I never finished helping you.”

“How long have I been in-”

“My bathroom? 5 minutes. C’mon Sugar.”

Even if he weren’t injured, Troy wobbled up, Lint having himself used as a crutch.

“It-”

“Is fine, now let’s finish up.”

Troy nodded. Lint knew how to bandage well, it was a good amount of tightness. He just watched Lint’s hands, his slightly shaking, something he knew wasn’t from cold. Lint had careful, caring movements. Troy wondered how well he’d do at those. They were both silent, minus a silent hum from Lint as he worked. Cog, he sounded pretty. Troy needed to do better for him.

“I don’t get it,” a breath Troy lost with his boyfriend’s beauty and his own pride.

“Get what?” Lint buzzed at him.

“You stick around, you continue to love me, when I just…Don’t do it right. Why?” Troy was ever so small and fragile, he felt like a thin piece of glass, and the blizzard was coming.

“Because I want to love you.” He said like it was the simplest answer in the world.

Troy snickered a bit. His bee was lovely.

His bee.

“I’m gonna do better.”

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna be a better boyfriend, for you.” He could have thought he was. He just didn’t want to lie.

“...I’d like that, I think.” There was a small smile on Lint’s face, a small snicker too.

A big smile formed on Troy’s face. “Aw, are you laughing at me dude?”

“It’s not everyday you-”

“Yeah? I what?” He was holding back a world of giggles.

“I can’t help but laugh if you’re a bit of an idiot-” He finished up the bandaging, which was good, as Troy grabbed him into the couch and restrained him with a hug.

“I’m gonna get you for that dude!”

Now the two of them were laughing, with Troy bear-hugging Lint, and Lint playfully trying to push him off. After a bit, they settled, Troy simply spooning Lint on his couch.

“I wanna stay over the night.”

“We can arrange that.”

“I love you, don’t know if I say it enough.”

“You have time to do it more. I love you too.”

[runningincircl3s]

Blood Sport

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Chapter Twelve

masterlist

chapter warnings: NSFW!! okay this is literally just pure filth. (and i can’t proof read my own smut or i’ll delete it all)

this is probably one of my favourite smuts i've ever written lmao i'd like to thank chase atlantic for being the soundtrack when i wrote this chapter <3 but happy friday!! i woke up to sonic temple content AND the new sleep token album so it's been a good day :)

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Hours passed by, and the ‘party’ finally died down. Most of the guys had left, leaving you, Folio, Noah and Matt sat outside under the stars. 

“I better go,” Matt said with a stretch as he stood up, “I told Alyson I wouldn’t be long, I kinda lost track of time.” 

“Yeah, I’ll join you.” Noah yawned as he got up from the grass, “I’ll see you guys at the weekend, we better start planning for the album release party.” 

“Yeah sure,” Folio grinned, “See you guys.” 

You said your goodbyes, and after a while, you and Folio decided it was time for bed. 

You got ready for bed, took a shower, washed your face, brushed your teeth, changed into your pjs, and just as you were about to get into bed, your phone buzzed. 

“Are you still up?”

It was from Noah?

There was something different in the air between you tonight, you definitely felt a shift after the night you finally talked in the hotel. You knew what tonight was going to lead up to, and here it was. 

You smiled to yourself as you typed your reply. 

“Just got into bed, why what’s up?”

It didn’t take too long for the next text to pop up. 

“I’m outside.” 

“I thought you went home?”

“Got halfway and decided to turn around”

You rushed out of bed, ignoring the way your heart was racing, and your legs trembled as you made your way down the stairs. You peeked out the living room window, seeing his car back in your driveway, and there he was leaning against it, his phone in his hand. 

“You gonna let me in or what?”

You took a deep breath, knowing you would likely regret this by the morning, but right now you didn’t care. You reached out for the door handle, fingers barely touching it as you thought one last time whether this was a good idea or not. 

Screw it. 

“You kept me waiting.” He smirked as you held the door open, stepping towards you. 

“Keep it down,” you whispered, “Folio can’t know about this. Nobody can know about this.” 

Noah hummed in amusement, his gaze dropping down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. 

“Then maybe we should go somewhere we won’t get caught.”

Heat rushed through you at his words. Without a second thought, you grabbed his wrist and quietly led him toward the stairs. The house felt suffocatingly quiet, every step creaking unnecessarily loud under your feet as you made your way to your room.

And as soon as the door clicked shut behind you, Noah was on you.

You barely had time to react before he had you pushed up against the door, his body pressing into yours. His warm hands found your waist, fingers gripping like he was claiming you, and his lips crashed against yours, knocking the breath out of you. 

Oh, how you missed this. 

The feeling of his lips on yours made you feel dizzy, your fingers grasped his hoodie, pulling him impossibly closer. He must’ve been enjoying this as much as you, as he groaned against your lips, the sound vibrating through your body, making you weak at the knees. 

“You really thought you were getting away with all that earlier, hm?” He muttered against your lips, his breath warm, his hands sliding lower.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You murmured, barely above a whisper.

Noah let out a low, amused huff. 

“Still playing innocent, huh?” His grip on you tightened. “That’s cute.”

Before you could say another word, he had you on the bed, his body pressing you down, his thigh slotting between yours, pressing against the spot where you ached the most. You bit your lip, swallowing a sound that threatened to slip out.

You tried to control your breathing as Noah hovered over you, his hand dragging slowly up your side, pushing your shirt up higher and higher. 

"You want me to stop?" He asked, although he was sure he already knew the answer.

You should say yes. You should push him away, stop this before it spiraled into something neither of you could reverse.

But that wasn’t what you wanted, as when his fingers ghosted over your ribs, just beneath your breast, your body arched into his touch and your hips rolled against his thigh. 

A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest.

"That’s what I thought."

His lips found your throat, sucking at the soft skin as your fingers tangled in his hair. Your breath hitched as he bit down, just enough to make you whimper, before soothing the sting with a slow swipe of his tongue, making you suddenly tug on his hair. He groaned, the sound rough and needy, his grip tightening on your hip as he pushed his thigh harder between your legs.

"God, do you know what you do to me?" He muttered, kissing the fresh mark he’d left behind before moving lower.

His hands were everywhere, exploring like he was relearning you, rediscovering every place that made you shudder, made you crave him. The rough pads of his fingers dragged over your nipple, rolling it between his fingers, and you gasped, arching into him.

"Fuck, Noah-"

He cut you off with a kiss, swallowing the sound. His body pressed harder against you, his hands sliding lower, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your shorts, before stopping and pulling back enough to meet your gaze. 

“You really want this?” He asked, his voice rough, like it was taking all his strength to hold himself back. 

You knew that if you told him no, he would actually stop, but if you gave him permission he would truly ruin you. 

You swallowed, heart hammering against your ribs. You should hesitate. You should think. But the way he looked at you, the way he felt against you, had you falling apart at the seams.

You met his eyes, his pupils blown wide with lust, his cheeks flushed, his breathing ragged, and you nodded your head. 

"Yes," you breathed, your fingers twisting into his hoodie, pulling him down, needing to feel his lips on yours again, already missing the feeling. "Noah, please."

That was all it took.

A growl rumbled from his chest, and then his lips were on yours again, hot, demanding, devouring. His fingers yanked your shorts and panties down in a single desperate motion, dragging the fabric down your legs and tossing them aside like thwy were in the way. His hands were on you before you could even register the loss, gripping your thighs, pulling them apart, settling between them like he belonged there.

And fuck, maybe he did.

"Missed you like this," he muttered against your lips, his voice dripping with need, his fingers tracing up your inner thigh at an excruciatingly slow pace. "Missed touching you. Missed hearing you."

You chuckled to yourself, despite the situation. 

“The way I bend, the way I break-”

“I’ll stop.” He warned, and you quickly shut up. 

His fingers ghosted over your heat, barely there, making you gasp. Your hips jerked on instinct, seeking more, chasing his touch, but he only smirked, pulling back just enough to watch your reaction.

"That desperate for me, huh?" His voice was pure sin, his fingers teasing, right beside where you needed him, but not giving you anything more.

You whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders. 

"Noah, please…"

He tsked, amused. 

"So impatient."

Then, finally his fingers slid through your slick folds, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to savour this. Your head tipped back, a sharp gasp spilling from your lips, and he cursed under his breath.

"Fuck," he rasped, pressing his forehead to yours, his fingers teasing, but never quite giving you what you wanted. "You’re soaked."

Your body trembled, your breath coming in uneven pants. 

"Because of you, Noah."

Something in him snapped.

He crushed his lips to yours, swallowing your moan as his fingers finally slipped inside you. You clenched around them instantly, your body desperate for more, for everything.

"Shit," he groaned, dragging his fingers out slowly, only to push them back in, deeper this time, curling just right, the way he always did.

A broken whimper escaped you, your hips rolling into his touch, chasing the pleasure he was so cruelly drawing out.

"That’s it," he murmured against your neck, sucking a fresh mark into your skin not far from the other. "Let me hear you."

And you did.

You gasped, moaned, writhed beneath him as his skilled, long fingers worked you open, his thumb circling your clit in painfully slow movements that sent electricity shooting through you. He watched you, dark eyes full of heat, of possession, like he was memorising every reaction.

"Feel good?" He murmured, his lips just below your ear, his voice dripping with evil satisfaction.

You, on the other hand, could barely form words. 

"Y-yeah-"

"Yeah?" He smirked, pressing his thumb down just a little harder, making your whole body jolt. "Or fuck, Noah, please don’t stop?"

Your mouth fell open, a strangled moan slipping free, your fingers fisting the sheets as pleasure coiled tight in your belly. You knew you wouldn’t last long, you were so close, but Noah had other plans. Before you came undone, he pulled away.

The smirk on his face was wicked, and he chuckled lowly as he watched you squirm beneath him. 

“Aww… You really thought I’d let you cum that easily? After the stunt you pulled earlier… Not a chance, baby.” 

He brought his slick fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a low hum of appreciation. 

"Fuck I’ve missed this… You know I could do this all night, keep you right on the edge, denying you every single time.” 

You watched him move, kissing down your body, starting at your chest, finishing at your thighs, placing open mouth, wet, sloppy kisses everywhere, except for where you needed him. 

“Noah…” You frowned, your fingers raking through his hair. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, faux sympathy laced in his voice as he tilted his head, resting it against his thigh as he looked up at you, “You were messing with me earlier, it’s my turn now.”

His fingers dragged along your slit again, playing with your slick before diving in. The feeling of his tongue on you making your body arch, and his arms wrapped around you, holding you in place for him as his tongue lapped away, savouring the taste, humming in appreciation against you. 

“I could eat this sweet pussy all night,” he murmured, “So fucking good.” 

He buried his face between your thighs, devouring you like a starved man. His tongue pressed deep into you, his nose nudging your clit as you curled your fists into the sheets, your thighs trembling at the intense pleasure. 

Just as you were about to hit the peak of your orgasm, Noah pulled back. Again. Grinning. 

The sudden loss of his touch made you cry out in frustration. You could see the wicked gleam in his eyes as he watched you squirm.

"Please, Noah!" You begged, your voice hoarse with desperation. "I’m sorry for teasing you… I need to... I can't take it anymore."

He smirked up at you, lazily trailing a finger through your soaked folds. He was enjoying this.

"Not until you’ve learnt your lesson."

His tongue flicked out to tease your clit, sending electric sparks through your body all over again. You whimpered, your hips grinding against his face in a futile attempt to find release. But Noah was relentless, denying you again and again.

Over and over, he brought you to the brink only to pull away, leaving you aching and frustrated. Tears streamed down your face as you pleaded with him, your body shaking with the effort to hold back.

"Fuck, look at you," he growled, his eyes roaming over your flushed skin. "So pretty…” 

He pumped two fingers inside you again, curling them just right to rub against that special spot. Your walls clenched around him, craving more stimulation. But Noah knew your body too well, easing back just before you could tumble over the edge.

“If you want it, you’re going to have to work for it, baby.” 

You looked up at him, your body tired and aching from the constant denial. He undressed before joining you back on the bed, laying with his head against your pillows as he pulled you on top of him. 

You felt dizzy when you felt his hardness pressing against you, just where you needed it. You rocked your hips, the tip of his cock rubbing deliciously against your clit, the both of you breathing heavily, faces flushed and minds cloudy with lust. 

He gave you a look to say go ahead and you reached between your bodies, lifting yourself slightly so you could line him up with you, before easing down onto him, both of you gasping when it slipped in. 

Although he had worked you open with his fingers, it had been a year since you last had sex, so you needed to take it slow, but Noah couldn’t help the sudden thrust of his hips as you sunk down on him, swallowing him whole. 

“So fucking tight…” He groaned, watching as you steadied yourself with your hands against his tattooed chest, “Been a while, huh?”

You nodded, unable to form words as you began rolling your hips. It wasn’t painful, but you definitely felt the stretch as you began to bounce on him. His hands came to your hips to help you, the way his fingers dug into your flesh told you he was holding back. 

"God, yes," Noah breathed, "Just like that. You feel incredible."

As you continued to ride him, the tension in your body started to build again. Every time you sank down fully, the thick head of his cock brushed against that sweet spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You leaned forward slightly, letting your nails rake down his inked chest, as he cursed beneath you. 

The contrast of your white sheets and pillows, and his heavily tattooed body was beautiful, you had to take a moment to take a mental screenshot.  

But just as you started to find your pace, he abruptly lifted his hips, driving deeper into you. The unexpected thrust took you by surprise, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. 

“I’m close…” You whispered, breathlessly as you continued rocking your hips, biting down on your lip as your clit rubbed against his pelvis. 

"Not yet," he growled, his eyes dark with lust. "You can hold on a little longer, I want to watch you work for it. You’re not done yet."

You moaned in frustration, the promise of release so tantalisingly close. You squeezed around him tighter, trying to coax him into allowing you that blissful end. It wasn’t enough, his grip on your hips tightened, and he pulled you down just enough to keep you full but not close enough to tip you over.

"You want to come?" he taunted, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "Then you better make it worth my while."

You bit your lip, determination flooding through you as you focused on finding the control you needed. Slowly, you began to lift yourself off him, rising until only the tip of his cock remained inside you before sinking back down. Each movement was deliberate, seeking that sweet friction that made your legs tremble and your heart race.

Noah watched you intently, his eyes darkening with desire as you moved. 

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. "Just like that. Keep going."

You rolled your hips again, the pleasure spiraling as he filled you with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with your breathy moans filled the room, and the pleasure began to build again. 

"Please," you begged, desperate for release as the coil within you tightened. "I need to come. Please let me-"

But he abruptly pulled you down harder, burying himself inside you completely as he forced you to look at him.  

"Not yet," he said firmly, smirking up at you. "You’re going to earn this. I want to see you really begging for it."

With that, he flipped you over onto your back, positioning himself over you without losing contact. He moved slowly, deliberately, giving you just enough friction to drive you wild but not enough to send you over the edge.

"Do you know how good you feel wrapped around me? Like you were made for me," he rasped, his voice dripping with lust. "You wanna cum, pretty girl?"

You nodded, your breath hitching as he continued to tease you, pulling back just when you thought you were close. The ebb and flow of pleasure was maddening, driving you to the brink of madness.

“Words, baby.”

"Please, Noah," you whimpered, tears of frustration pooling at the corners of your eyes again. "I can't take it anymore. I need to come…"

He silenced your pleas with a fierce kiss, his tongue dancing with yours as he thrusted into you with sudden ferocity. You moaned into his mouth, feeling yourself stretch around him perfectly as he drove deeper.

But just as you began to lose yourself in the moment, he pulled back again, leaving you breathless and wanting. 

"Not yet, baby. Just a little longer..."

"Noah," you gasped, your voice trembling with need. "I can’t…”

He smirked down at you, savoring the sight of your desperate expression as he flipped the two of you over again, and your tired, aching body still attempted to chase the pleasure, rolling your hips and bouncing on him to feel him hit that delicious spot.  

“Yes you can, you’re doing so well, baby.”

With renewed determination, you focused on your movements, pushing through the frustration and with each upward stroke, taking him deeper, grinding against him with fervor. You could feel the coil tightening within you again, threatening to snap if he just gave you that little push.

"That's it," he encouraged, a glint of wickedness in his eyes as he pushed your hair out of your face. "Keep going. You’re almost there."

And as you continued to chase that release, his hands gripped your hips tightly, urging you on. You felt yourself teetering on the precipice, every nerve screaming for release as he held you just on the edge of ecstasy.

“Yes! Just like that,” he encouraged, panting as he watched your body respond to him. "You're so close, aren’t you? I can feel it, she’s squeezing me so tight.. Fuck."

Finally, with one swift movement, he thrust deeply into you while rubbing your clit with expert precision. Your walls tightened around him as the pleasure crashed over you like a wave, consuming you entirely.

“Go on baby, that’s it… Cum for me,” he growled, his voice thick with lust as he slammed into you one last time. “Soo pretty when you cum…”

You cried out his name as your orgasm washed over you, your body trembling uncontrollably, as the wave of pleasure surged through you. He held you tightly, your chest against his, letting you ride out your release as he continued to thrust into you, drawing out every last moment of bliss.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, his movements slowing as he found his own release moments later, filling you with warmth and satisfaction after the most mind blowing orgasm of your life. 

“Shit…” You muttered after catching your breath, “Noah that was…” 

“Incredible,” he swallowed hard, and you could see the post-sex clarity creeping in, “I’m sorry if that was too much, I got a bit carried away and-” 

“Noah,” you stopped him, your fingers trailing over the ink on his shoulders, “It’s okay. That was probably the best sex I’ve had in my life.” 

“Oh yeah?” He smirked lazily, your bodies both exhausted, “Me too.” 

The two of you shuffled, so you were now resting your head on his chest, still basking in the afterglow of what had just happened. 

You thought by now the regret, shame and guilt would kick in, but it didn’t. You weren’t too sure what Noah was thinking, but he was still lying there playing with your hair, so you assumed he didn’t regret it either. 

Not yet.

“I should probably leave.” Noah sighed, shifting beneath you. 

You sat up, letting him move to get dressed. A part of you wanted to reach out, grab him and tell him to stay, but you knew that was a bad idea. 

But so was fucking him. 

As Noah threw his hoodie over his head and reached for his keys, you pulled your blanket over you and reached for his hand, stopping him. 

“Stay.” 

Noah stilled at your touch, his fingers twitching slightly in your grasp. He glanced down at where your hand held his wrist, then back up at you.

“You sure?” His voice was quieter now, uncertain.

“Yeah.” You nodded. 

For a moment, he just stood there, like he was weighing the consequences, considering whether staying would make this whole thing more complicated than it already was. But then, with a quiet sigh, he dropped his keys onto your nightstand. 

“Why don’t we get you cleaned up.” 

His voice was soft, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if you’d let him take care of you like this. But when he reached for your hand, you let him pull you up and lead you toward your bathroom.

Noah flicked on the light, bathing the small space in a warm glow, and turned on the bath’s faucet, testing the water with his fingers before plugging the drain. You stood quietly behind him, watching as he grabbed one of your bottles of soap and poured some under the running water. The scent of lavender and vanilla filled the air as bubbles started to form.

You weren’t sure what to say, but you didn’t need to. When Noah turned back to you, there was no awkwardness, no hesitation, just something warm in his expression that made your chest ache. His fingers brushed over your arm, trailing down until they reached your hand, and he gave it a small squeeze.

“Get in,” he murmured.

You did, sinking into the warmth with a quiet sigh as the heat soothed your muscles. Noah crouched beside the tub, watching you with something unreadable in his eyes.

For a while, neither of you spoke. He dipped his hand into the water, letting it run over your skin, washing away the remnants of what had just happened. It was quiet, intimate, a tenderness you hadn’t expected. It made your heart ache. 

When you were done, Noah grabbed a towel, wrapping it around you before helping you to your feet. He didn’t let go as you stepped out of the tub, his hands steady against your waist.

Once you had dried off, you got straight back into your bed, too tired to think about getting dressed just yet. Noah joined you, pulling the sheets over the both of you before wrapping an arm around you, pulling you into him until your head rested back on his chest. 

His fingers traced slow, absentminded patterns over your back, his breath warm against your temple. You both lied there in silence, it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but there were too many thoughts buzzing around in your mind to find it relaxing. 

You swallowed hard, your heart tightening in your chest as you looked up at him. 

“Noah?”

His fingers paused for half a second before resuming. 

“Yeah?”

You hesitated, your own fingers toying with the chain around his neck. 

“Did you ever…” You took a breath, bracing yourself. “Did you ever stop loving me?”

Noah stilled.

A moment of silence stretched between you, and then he answered. 

“No.”

Your breath caught.

He sighed, adjusting so he could look at you, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from your face. His brows were slightly furrowed, like he was trying to figure out how to say what he needed to say.

“I tried,” he admitted, voice low. “Fuck, I really tried. But nothing felt right. No one else felt right.” His fingers ghosted over your cheek. “They weren’t you.”

Your chest ached, a lump forming in your throat.

“I tried, too,” you whispered. “Tried to tell myself we were just a… Fling. And I even told myself after I did what I did, it must’ve meant it was. And I’d just get over it, but I couldn’t. I haven’t.” You swallowed hard. “And I don’t think I ever will.” 

Noah’s gaze softened, something vulnerable flickering in those deep brown eyes.

You sucked in a shaky breath. 

“I never stopped loving you, either, Noah.”

His lips parted slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek before leaning in. 

This kiss was different. Not hungry, not desperate. An act of pure love. A slow, deep, quiet confession.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“So what do we do now?” He murmured.

Your fingers curled into his hair, your heart pounding.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I don’t want to fight this feeling anymore. I don’t want to pretend I don’t want you anymore.”

A slow, crooked smile tugged at his lips. 

“Me neither,”  Noah said. He paused for a moment, thinking before continuing, “But until we’ve figured out what this is, what we want it to be, I don’t think we should tell the others. I know all we’ve ever done is sneak around, but the last thing we need is their opinions.”

You chewed your lip, considering. It made sense. After everything that happened, the last thing you needed was everyone else weighing in before you even had a chance to breathe and process this yourselves.

“Yeah,” you nodded slowly. “You’re right.”

His fingers traced absentminded patterns over your hip. 

“But if we’re gonna do this… I want to do it the right way.”

“The right way?” You tilted your head.

He gave you a small, lazy smirk. 

“I want to take you on a date.”

Your stomach did a stupid little flip.

“A date?” you echoed, teasing. “Like, a real date?”

Noah chuckled, rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah, a real date.” His fingers curled around your waist. “I want to do this right. You deserve it.”

You stared at him for a moment, warmth spreading through your chest.

“Okay... Yeah, I’d like that.” 

----------------------------------------

@bloody-spades @death-ofpeace-ofmind @miss570 @dominuslunae @dontwantthemoney @amelia-acero @noahslutbastian @blade-dressed-in-red @super-btstrash-posts @kait16xo @oobleoob @sunshine-lvrr @lacy1986 @enemiestolovershoe @samanthasgone @superpiratecriminalchef @lukeevangelista @lunabuna991 @ami--gami @bluehairpunklol @darknightstarryeyes @xxkittenkissesxx @renegadebirch @ichoosetenderomens @formula1loversstuff @c0urt-0519 @animal4princess-blog @neeley1w

[livelaughlovesubs]

F-yo-dor~

Dom!reader x sub!fyodor (reader is gender neutral)

Warning: pegging (can be read as a dick), CNC, dacryphilia, feminisation

I wrote this before, but I changed some stuff

Fyodor positioned himself in your lap, straddling you before sitting down completely. He could feel a throbbing sensation as he let himself be filled. Then he shifted around for a bit, gaze not leaving yours for a moment. It was adorable how he thought he’s in control, just because he was on top. Once the man settled down comfortably, he started going up and down at you. Riding and bouncing on your dick with a hint of desperation. His hands gripped your shoulders, and he quickened his pace, revelling in the power he held in this situation. For example being able to choose the intensity of the act as he pleased, he smirked at you the entire time. Even though he tried to be more domineering in this case, he couldn’t keep his voice down. Moans slipped from his lips, mixed with an occasional whimper.

You just sat down and let him do, watching him getting off on top was you was amusing to say the least. How he looked at you was playful and smug, but you didn’t care, you were going to let him have his moment. The play unfolding in front of you was pathetic but also arousing. The sound of skin against skin reached your ears, along with his gasps and whimpers. Slowly his movements heightened in intensity, you could tell he was close already. “Ahh~uuUhhmm!" an especially loud moan slipped from the male as he came on top of you. His panting was heavy, torso rising and lowering with every breath.

After he came down from his high, he smirked at you. Looking at you through half lidded eyes, which were a bit hidden by his bangs. His cheeks had turned reddish, and he stopped holding onto you. “You aren’t satisfied, right? But I won’t keep going unless you beg.” Fyodor said, while his hole clenched around you, and thighs trembled with excitement. Then your hands suddenly gripped his hips. The grip was very rough, next day there would be marks. He yelped, shrieked and wrapped his arms around your neck again. Without wasting time you forced him to move back and forth, grinding the toy against his walls.

That look on his face! It was so lewd and perverted! How his eyes widened, mouth hung agape and shock washed over him. Out of nowhere his blush intensified, and was spreading to his shoulders now. “Did you have fun pretending to be in control? Haha~” you teased him, mocking him for his delusion.

A mixture of horror, confusing and pleasure blend within him as you kept forcing him to move. He didn’t know what to think about this situation, so all he did was moan on your dick like a slut in heat. “Ah..aAHHH..! oOH, nghh..” the sounds he made were amazing, you lost yourself in it and subconsciously fastened the pace. The grip on his waist tightened, almost painfully as you forcefully guide his movements. Pressing and trusting into him at an even faster pace then before. How you abruptly shifted the dynamics shocked him, the male was still irritated as to what just happened. His earlier teasing and confident gaze changed to one of vulnerability, your words reminding him that he is still at your mercy.

The pace which you set was so rough, it was too much for him. Pleasures and ecstasy rippled through his body, his eyes rolled back while his whole body shivered. Poor boy was drooling while he pleaded with you, “stop! AHhh s-stop~” tears were decorating his pretty face as well, hands gripping your arms now as you kept your steady movements. "Slow downnn! Nghh, ple-ase..gentler...”

You were still rutting into him, forcing him up and down your dick. His cries and whines were like music in your ears, causing you to increase the intensity once again. Making him surrender to the overwhelming sensations of pain and bliss. Each rhythmic snap of your hips against his got his head spinning around, the feeling maddening but also addictive. Things only got worse for the boy when you started hitting his sweet spot with precision. Now his dick throbbed and leaked uncontrollably, this was evidence of the pleasure he was receiving. “I-it's so..intense, hAah- you are so.. so rough with me! Nghh…please gimme a breaAAK~”

Without listening to his begs, you kept degrading him, “Hah, you are dipping wet down here, Fyodor. What, have you become a girl? Do you like this so much?” You snickered at the display in front of you. The words you whispered to him mingled with his brain, making him feel humiliated even somehow even more embarrassed than he already was. “N-no..'m not a girl.! I'm a guy- ahhh~ please, i-I'm not wet..!" He tried to defend himself even though he knew it's hopeless and that he was playing right into your palm. “It that so? F-yo-dor~?” The way you said his name made him shudder, how did he even turn into this mess? Wasn't he a feared ability user before? Reduced to a mere whore- no, your whore.

“AHHhh..pleA~se! I-I can't- uhmm, gahh..” “Are you close again? Go on, Fyodor, hehe.” You couldn’t help but chuckle, his unfocused eyes were really erotic after all. Luckily got him you gave him the permission he needed, he didn't think twice about it before white ropes of cum shoot from his arousal. Body shaking in your grip, head thrown back as he let out small begs for mercy. His legs trembled, unable to move after the intense play of you two. You were still holding his slim body, his soft skin against your fingers. He could feel his conscious fading, unable to keep his eyes from closing. The last thing he heard was, "mine." Before the exhaustion overtook his body and he slumped against your chest.

[guniniz]

⸻ falling asleep on facetime with zb1

# genre … fluffy scenario’s of how i think zb1 members would react to you falling asleep while on facetime, some are romantic relationships and some are just friendships !

# note … third and final part is out !! got to this earlier than i thought i would :)) definitely opening my request so feel free to leave anything in there. i hope you enjoy the last part of this sort of trilogy lol.

── 彡 [규빈] GYUVIN

you and gyuvin had been appointed as the organizers for your classes “cafe” for the school festival.

you loved to do this kind of stuff and had been very excited to be the head of the organization while gyuvin was the vice leader.

and while gyuvin was excited he was pretty sure the teacher only picked him cause he overheard him telling his friends that he had a crush on you earlier this week.

since no one else volunteered either he had no choice but to accept.

and while he regretted it in the beginning after some thinking (and a pep talk from his friends) he decided that this would be the perfect time to confess to you.

as you guys were working on brainstorming ideas, handing out roles to other classmates and setting everything up for the week leading up to the festival gyuvin’s pondering on what would be the best time and place to confess his feelings for you.

the day of the festival came however and both of you guys were so busy that he didnt even get a chance to pull you away for a bit to have a one on one conversation.

as the day ended all he could do was watch you walk home with your friends waving him goodbye as you left.

he felt his heart ache a bit as he realized he had missed his opportunity for the perfect confession.

with disappointment in his heart he headed home and went straight up to his room to let himself just fall onto his bed face first.

as he was wallowing in his self pitty he heard his phone ring. he slowly lifted himself up without much hurry as he thought it was yujin calling just to laugh at him.

his face quickly changed when he saw that it was your name who lit up his phone though. he softly slapped himself on the face a few times and cleared his throat before picking up your call

“oh hi y/n, why are you calling me this late, not that i mind of course but i was just wondering” gyuving quickly stopped talking as to not ramble on.

you were so tired from this long week and on the verge of falling asleep so you yawned quietly and said “oh i just wanted to thank you for helping me out this week, i know you had little choice since no one else wanted to but thank you nonetheless!”

“oh no worries y/n it really wasn’t a big deal i really liked it actually” gyuvin said trying not to stumble over his words

all of a sudden gyuvin got a little confidence boost and had decided to let you know that he liked you right this moment. as soon as he started though he lost what little confidence he had and kept beating around the bushes.

you didnt wanna interrupt him while talking and you tried your best to listen to him but in the end all the exhaustion from the week caught up to you and you fell asleep.

after a little bit of some more rambling and avoiding eye contact gyuvin finally got to the point “what i really wanna say is i like you y/n”

as he let out a breath of relief for finally being able to say it he was awaiting a response. though after a few seconds of waiting he still didnt get one.

“you know y/n you dont have to respond right now and if you dont like me that’s totally fine…” he kept going till he finally looked over to his phone to find out you had been asleep for who knows how long.

“damn it gyuvin you messed it up again” he said softly “i was supposed to confess to you today y/n i’d been thinking about the perfect timing all week and i missed both opportunities…” another heart ache hit him this one harder than the one at school.

he hung up the call and after a bit more self pity he decided to just blurt it out the next time he manages to get you two alone. he would not mess up another chance, third time is the charm.

── 彡 [건욱] GUNWOOK

whenever gunwook and you got back home from a date you guys liked to “continue” your date and facetime each other after while winding down and getting ready for bed.

today was no different and as soon as you texted him that you got home safe your phone started ringing.

you picked up and were met with a very close up shot of your boyfriends face which made you laugh.

he smiled back at you as he started taking off his shoes and coat since he only just got in as well but couldn’t wait a second more before calling you.

as you did the same you could see he was walking further inti the apartment before letting out a sigh.

you asked him what’s wrong and he said he forgot to do the dishes as it was his turn today.

he giggled at him and told him to get to it to which he asked (begged) if you could come over and help him with it.

“it’ll take like 30 minutes for me to get there you could be done by that time wookie” you said to him with a laugh as he was pouting at you.

thats how you ended up doing your skincare while watching your boyfriend do the dishes for him and his roommates.

the 30 minutes passed and he was indeed done in the time you said it would take. you let out an “i told you so” as your boyfriend sarcastically huffed and puffed about you being right once again.

as you got done with your skincare gunwook had only just started so you decided to get into bed and set your phone up on your nightstand so you coukd still watch him while laying down and relaxing from your long day together.

he made you laugh as he was playing with the foam from his cleanser making all sorts of silly faces and while he was very cute and highly entertaining you could feel your eyes becoming heavier.

as he was rinsing and drying his face you tried your best to not succumb to your tiredness.

even though you tried your best the last thing you remember is gunwook getting to the last step of his skincare.

gunwook had noticed you were getting tired and decided to mute himself for the remainder of his nightly routine.

he really didn’t mind you falling asleep as this was one of the times of the day where he thought you looked the cutest.

eventually he finished doing everything he needed to and got into bed as well setting up his phone the same way you had.

as he planted a small kiss on his phone and whispered an i love you he thought it would be fun to have a “sleepover” so he didnt end the call before laying down and falling asleep either.

miraculously both of your phone batteries survived (barely) the night and you found out you guys had slept through the night on facetime together.

when you realized he was still sleeping you silently hung up the call as your phone was about to die and texted him a good morning and an i love you as you knew he had probably done the same to you last night.

── 彡 [유진] YUJIN

you and yujin became friends the first year of high school as you guys got sat next to each other.

the next year you guys grew closer and now in your third year you couldn’t imagine not being friends with him.

your teacher assigned the class a duo group project and you immediately asked yujin to group up together.

he agreed and you guys ended up having to work on the project together.

because the project wasn’t necessarily hard you guys thought you’d have way more than enough time to finish it before the 4 week deadline.

you guys ended up procrastinating (and lowkey forgot about it) so when the both of you realized the due date was tomorrow you quickly scrambled together and decided to work on it until it was done.

you guys met up at a cafe and started working on the project, and while it wasn’t hard it was surprisingly a lot of work since its required a lot of steps and you had to document all the work you did behind the scenes as well as citing all your sources.

the both of you got to work and eventually lost track of time and only realized it had gotten dark outside when you got kicked out of the cafe as they were about to close.

the project wasn’t done yet and you both agreed to pull an all nighter to finish it.

you got home and immediately called yujin to continue working.

he picked up your call with a groan as he jokingly mimicked slamming his head onto his desk. “y/n can’t we just ask for an extension i’m too tired”

“you know how the teacher is with extensions, plus we had 4 weeks… i doubt he’s gonna believe us even if we tell him our best lie” you said.

he sighed, agreed and started his laptop back up to continue working.

as you guys were both working in the same document you could see what he was up to and when you noticed he hadn’t typed anything in a while you looked over at your phone to find him almost falling asleep.

“yujin wake up man, dont make me do this by myself” you said slightly raising your voice.

he shot straight up as he tried to deny the fact that he fell asleep. you shot him some daggers with your eyes as the both of you got back to work.

you were almost done when you noticed a bunch of random letters appearing in yujin’s section and when you looked back at your phone again you saw that he had fallen asleep again and face planted onto his keyboard.

you quickly kicked him out of the document so he didn’t ruin any more of the text as you silently laughed at the sight.

you hung up the call and finished the rest of the project by yourself but not before sending yujin a “threat” that if he didn’t buy you lunch next time you guys went out that you would convince the teacher that you did all the work and to give him a bad grade. (you would never of course but it scared yujin enough to bring you a croissant paired with a sheepish apology the next morning)

— pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3

[rj-anderson]

I've just realized I never posted another update here about how we got my 93-yo mom into assisted living a couple months ago, and it is THE ABSOLUTE GREATEST STORY and I'm still just reeling with amazement over how it all came together, so here it is under the cut.

As you will know if you read my earlier posts about Mom, I've been her primary caregiver for the last few years, especially since my dad passed away in early 2020 (we were able to hold a beautiful, well attended memorial service for him right before the first lockdown, another bit of timing I am still very grateful for).

And as you will also know if you read those previous posts, Mom's mental clarity and ability to look after herself has been going downhill for the last couple years, and despite her overall sweet disposition and gratefulness for everything I was doing, by Dec. 2024 I was at my wits' end and really close to burning out. Only a blessed last-minute increase in respite care, thanks to a pilot program coordinated by my local hospital and Alzheimer's Society, enabled me to keep going while I waited and prayed for a long term care placement for Mom.

That being said, we'd already been warned that it could be up to five years before Mom got an offer, because despite her acute nerve pain attacks, chronic vertigo and increasing cognitive issues, she was not considered to be "in crisis". (I was definitely having a crisis as her caregiver, but that didn't count.) So from an outside perspective, it looked unlikely if not downright impossible that we would find a place within the next 12-18 months, unless Mom had a major health crisis.

Despite that, though, I had a strange deep-down confidence that something was going to change soon. In fact, part of me really felt sure that it would happen by spring at the latest. Now this was a bewildering feeling to have, because I am one of the least mystical woo-woo people in the world, and objectively it didn't seem likely to happen at all. So I found myself praying that God would keep me from clinging to false hopes (if they were false) and prepare me not to be discouraged or bitter if my feeling turned out to be groundless.

But I also found myself praying, "Lord, I don't how this is going to work out with Mom, but I look forward to praising you for whatever you're going to do." Because I remembered how things had gone with my Dad's care, and how the best plans I had in mind turned out to be not nearly as wise or good as the way God arranged it in the end.

Anyway, a number of things happened in December that made me question my belief that Mom would be best off in long term care, despite all the efforts I'd gone to choosing the right places for her. I took her to see the closest home on our list, thinking it would be a positive experience and put some of her fears to rest, but EVERYTHING about that tour was a disaster. It was far too big, and noisy, and overwhelming, and my mom kept saying "I could never go to a place like that, I would be totally lost. I'd rather be out on the street."

So I ended up having to take that particular home off the list, which brought our options from three down to two and made it even less likely to get a room offer. But that experience did make very clear what kind of place Mom wanted -- small, homey, quiet, and easy to navigate, with fellow residents she could talk to, and ideally some opportunity for Christian fellowship. Unfortunately, I didn't know of a single long term care home in our area that fit that description.

Until the first week of January 2025, when I joined my regular Zoom prayer meeting with three women from my old church. And as I was telling them about my difficulties, one of them said, "Oh, I wish your mom could go to the home where [a woman who also used to go to our church] is living! It would be so perfect for her!"

Now, I had heard plenty about that woman and the wonderful Mennonite assisted living home she'd moved into a few months earlier, but I never thought it could be a fit for my Mom. However, after that conversation I looked up the home's website and realized that not only was the place much closer than I'd thought it was, it sounded like they might actually be able to provide the level of care Mom needed.

I called the care home. We had a good, thorough talk about Mom's needs. I set up an appointment for a tour. And from the instant I stepped in the door, I knew this was the place our family had been praying for. Not only was it newly renovated, small, quiet and cozy, offering home-style meals and regular church services, there was a lovely vacant room with a view that immediately made me think, "This is Mom's room."

Long story short -- and skipping over a multitude of other unexpected blessings and mercies of God along the way -- we moved Mom into her new apartment in mid-February. They even allowed us to paint the room her favourite colour, and set it up with all the furniture and pictures she needed to make it feel like home, before we brought her in. And since then, she's been getting all the medical and personal care she needs, I've been able to enjoy regular visits with her while also having a life of my own again, and despite having had twelve acute pain episodes over the six months before the move, Mom has not had even one attack since she got there.

Despite all the hardships, discouragements, seeming dead ends, and other ups and downs of the past year -- even because of them, in some cases -- God has been faithful and very, very good. So I am keeping the promise I made a few months ago, when all seemed utterly hopeless, and praising Him for what He's done.

[justallihere]

Okay, I did some laundry, I've had lunch, I've breathed fresh air and taken some deep breaths (did not touch any grass because it's covered in snow), and we're back. My wrap up thoughts of Onyx Storm are below! Be warned it's chock full of spoilers, and these are all my honest opinions. I haven't even given this a rating yet because I don't really know what I want to rate it! Nothing's really in order so sorry about that. But I look forward to hearing everyone else's thoughts!

I loved that the importance of the bond between dragon and human was emphasized so heavily in this book. That Asher called Aimsir Lilith's first love, Violet telling Tairn he's the gift of her life, that even Halden knew that the true barrier to her would be the dragon bond - and especially that when Xaden channeled again, in a way that he knew would irreversibly damn him, he did it for Sgaeyl. To keep her safe, because she chose him before and above everyone else.

I adored the Riorgail of it all. They were open and honest with each other, saying I love you practically every other breath, declaring their loyalty and devotion to each other in front of anyone who would listen. I loved that we got them as a team, facing stuff together and trusting that what they couldn't the other could handle it.

On the other hand, it may just be me but they didn't quite feel like themselves. Maybe because it was the first time we've truly seen them be public about their feelings, but they didn't feel like the same Xaden and Violet from the previous two books. Xaden felt so intense that everything he said gave me anxiety, devoted to the point of obsession. I would actually call Violet morally gray here, but it came out of nowhere; there wasn't a great transition into that change in her character, none of the hesitation or guilt I'd expect.

In short, they kind of felt like my Xaden and Violet and not canon? I loved them, but I'm not sure it matches what we know of them from FW and IF and the change in character didn't feel entirely smooth.

But Xaden IS her sword!!!!

The worldbuilding was ridiculous. Violet was dropping facts left right and center like the details of the aristocracy and politics at play were common knowledge - and maybe they are in world, but if they're that obvious then I feel like those details should've been worked into earlier books. I felt like I was floundering trying to keep up with all the new names and titles and roles.

In the same vein, the lore about magic made no sense. So only the Continent has magic but why? Was it drained from other places? Does it only occur naturally in certain areas? Dragons don't have magic that exists within them - they also draw from the source which? Hello hypocrites much? That was another thing that was said so casually, but that should've been one of those things we learned in Fourth Wing, at Threshing or right after.

There was too much happening with the plot to the point that I lost it completely. The trips to the isles were overwhelming. I know the venin and the irids were tied together, but those two things competed so much that I kept forgetting about whichever one we weren't talking about. Literally just. . . forgot about the venin there for a bit in the middle. We were looking for a cure but we were looking for Andarna's kind but we were trying to stop the venin and we were also gathering allies and making trade deals and none of those points were fleshed out completely.

The ending was vague and confusing in a way that made me frustrated instead of interested or anticipatory. I read the last two chapters three times and I still don't know what the fuck was going on there. So the Sage is. . . Fen? Is Garrick the one who also turned? Bodhi? Brennan? Ridoc? Fuck if I know. I understand the point of the marriage, to give Violet control over Tyrrendor legally, but I'm also pissed at the way it happened.

I know we don't want anyone to actually die, but I literally didn't even flinch when Mira's throat got cut open because I figured she'd be fine. There were no important deaths. Trager and Quinn didn't hit that hard. Not putting any of the main characters in significant danger makes the stakes feel lower than they should.

The fan service made me roll my eyes. I get it to a certain extent, but there were several times when I legitimately kind of felt like RY had been in fandom spaces or someone on her team was just feeding her popular theories to include.

The marked ones having second signets was. . . not my favorite choice, because logistically it doesn't make much sense. We should statistically see at least one of them go mad from the power instead of developing a second signet. And I actually think if that had been included it would have been more interesting! I'd like to see the reality of the risks that were taken to make the rebellion happen, but instead they just got really really lucky a bunch of times?

The use of the word Riorgail in print sent me to the fucking moon. No.

Violet's second signet. . . I don't want to talk about it.

Actually no I do. Since when are signets based on situational need and not who a person is at their core? Was that not what we were told previously? Am I tripping? I don't mind the power itself but I am confused.

Professor Riorson had me on the ground laughing. What the hell was that. There are enough barriers to their relationship, and that one felt too forced (but great fodder for smutty fic).

The characters and their relationships are the standout of the book and the series. I already said I loved Xaden and Violet here, but I also loved their friendships and how real especially the relationship with Brennan and Mira and Violet felt. The humor and the quips and the squad's constant support of each other was wonderful.

I'm holding onto those Sloane and Dain crumbs like a teddy bear you all have no idea. I love them.

Aaric being the one with precognition I didn't see coming, but I surprisingly liked it! I loved him stepping more into his role as prince and seeing how cunning and smart he really is.

Halden was unnecessary but I live for possessive and jealous Xaden.

Overall I think the pacing was crammed and the worldbuilding left me with more questions than answers, but did I still like it? Yes! I don't think it's my favorite in the series but it still was an enjoyable read. I'll want to read it again at some point I think, but not immediately!

[skzthelomlhehe]

"The beginning of an end"

Inspired by these posts by @hyunbelievable

Synopsis: The end of a beginning is nothing but the beginning of an end. Heart once broken, now healed with sincerity. How did this happen? When did it go wrong and most of all... Where did it go wrong? Was it you or was it what? Questions remained unanswered. But for how long?

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort.

Warning: cheating, lying, mentions of harmful thoughts, a little suggestive (if you squint your eyes)? (No I'm not making this into a smut 😭 it's relevant to the angst, trust me.)

Masterlist tag list: @bluesungology @diabolicalkitkat @capricorn-girl0112 @daysofskz-ateez @neginktn @seoul1207

Just to make it a weeee bit more painful, this is the man we're gonna be talking shit about:

Three years... It had been three years since you met Chan and the boys. Maybe it was his charisma... Maybe it was the care and love he showed to the ones around him... You always found yourself looking at chan. This strange attraction that pulled at your heart strings.

And that was why, when he finally confessed to you, you reached cloud 9. It was on your birthday, a year ago. The kids and you were out to dinner. You noticed how the boys kept giggling and teasing their leader. While you sort of had an idea that he might like you too, you would put that thought aside just to spare yourself heartbreak.

That is... Until he finally said it. Amidst the chaos of the other kids within the almost empty restaurant, he held your hand gently. The chit chattering now finally coming to a pause. "Y/N..." He spoke out softly and your breath hitched. He looked at you with such loving eyes. A gaze no one has looked at you with. "I love you, Y/N... Will you be my girlfriend?" He said it. And you lost your mind.

Having sat beside him prior to this, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. "Yes! Yes I will!" You answered excitedly and kissed him again. The restaurant erupted with 'ooh!'s and congratulatory words.

The way he looked at you, with these... These sparkly eyes... Ones that screamed love if nothing else... Oh how you loved it. How you loved seeing it. How you loved being seen by that gaze. That night, for the first time, both of you held each other in a warm embrace. A night you could never forget.

And yet... That night remained a cruel reminder... A cruel reminder of lies... Of betrayal.

It had been exactly an year since you both had been dating. It was your birthday and anniversary at the same time. You were so excited to spend the night with the love of your life in the same place where it all started.

And at the peak of your joy... Your life came crashing down. You guys were supposed to meet at 7. He was supposed to pick you up. But earlier, he had texted you in the morning saying he'd be back late cuz they had work. By late, he didn't mean he would miss dinner, right?

You adorned yourself with the dress he bought for you that he claimed to have reminded him of you. Along with pretty jeweleries, a well done hair, nice make up and his favourite perfume. You looked at yourself in the mirror, cheeks flushed from the thought of having dated him for a whole year already.

You made your way to the restaurant realising he wouldn't be able to pick you up. When you got there, you were greeted by a waiter who led you to your seat. It was a seat with a big window beside it. A cozy atmosphere. Just like how it was a year ago. "Wonder how the kids would react if they were here." You giggled, thinking about that night again.

10 minutes passed.

20 minutes passed.

No sign of chan anywhere.

You were just about to text him when your eyes trailed off to the window, when you noticed a small cafe outside. It had been there for a few months now. "I should come here with Chan someday." You smiled to yourself. But soon, that smile faded.

Chan walked into the cafe, his hand draped around the shoulders of... Another woman? Why is he going inside the cafe with a different woman that you've never met? "N-no... He wouldn't..." You mumbled. And as if to rub salt on the wound, you saw them kiss. Soft... Delicate... Loving kiss... His gaze on her was the same as it used to be on you.

Your heart thumped. Louder and louder every second. Your chest tightened and tears threatened to spill out of your eyes. You whipped out your phone, vision blurry as you typed.

{To see the chats, make sure to go here also cuz I can't add more than 5 pics so yeah 😭}

You couldn't cry. Even though your eyes urged you to, you couldn't let anybody see the hurt the man you loved caused you. You gathered up your things and stormed out. Just as you got yourself a taxi, you saw Chan running out of the cafe. It was tempting, to say the least. You want to stop and hear him out. Yell at him or slap him, maybe? But you didn't.

You hopped into the taxi, went up to your apartment and locked your door. If he knew better, Chan wouldnt come banging on your door. You knew how much he loved his reputation as an idol. He would never do anything that could ruin his image. Even if it meant he lost his lover.

What surprises you is seeing him go out like that. It was unusual. And surprising. Maybe... Just maybe... Deep down you wanted him to run after you. Grab you by the hand and kiss you. Tell you it wasn't true... You wish when you went to bed, you'd wake up and realise it was a nightmare.

As you went to bed sobbing, you desperately wished to wake up next to him, hug him tight and tell him how you had this awful nightmare. But once again, luck was not on your side.

You woke up alone. No one next to you. The space once occupied by the person you loved, the warmth of "good morning, pretty~ sleep well?" was now buried within the cruel cold of nothingness.

Your heart felt heavy, almost as if it stopped beating. You got out of bed, clothes, shoes, accessories, everything scattered everywhere. Making your way towards the mirror, you looked at yourself. Your eye make up all messed up and runny from crying. Nose red. Lipstick smudged. Your hair all over the place.

You fell to the floor, crying again. "How... How could he do this to me?!" You cried out. You loved him. You truly did. More than anyone else. You've never loved anyone like the way you loved chan. And he snatched the bits of happiness away from you.

You looked at the mirror again. You watched how pathetic you looked. How messy... How dirty... Tears trickled down your face aimlessly. You gave your heart, your soul, your body, your faith. You gave him your everything. And now? You found yourself all alone. No family... No friends... No one to lean on.

You had nothing to live for. You had nothing to look forward to anymore. You gave away your everything. You lost your everything. "I wish I could just disappear.." you mumbled, your voice hoarse from sobbing. The betrayal, the humiliation. It all came crashing down on you all at once. "What more reason do I even have to live for?"

Just then, you got a call from Hannah. You couldn't pick up. You didn't have it in yourself to pick up that call. So you just watched it ring. Your eyes unfocused, your mind numb.

As you watched the call ring and hang up on its own, she shot you a text instead, (and this is where when I saved the draft and came back, everything else that I wrote after this line was GONE. ... I'll go cry.)

You read the text through your blurry eyes. But after some point, you couldn't even do that. Tears welled up in your eyes again. You started sobbing, once again.

After crying for what felt like hours, you heard banging on your door. "Y/N!! Open your door!! It's me Hanna!!" You looked up, your eyes red from crying. Your body just as numb as your mind. Frozen... Paralysed... All you could do was silently look at the door.

"Y/N I'm gonna come in!!" Hannah yelled out again. You had given the passkey to your house to the kids and their siblings in cases of... Emergency. After all, it wasnt the first time you had thoughts of... Disappearing...

Hannah slammed the door open and ran up to your bedroom panting. Her chest heaving up and down, her eyes widened in terror as she looked at you from the door frame. "Ha-Hanna..." You cried.

She rushed to embrace you and you hugged back tightly. You had finally gotten the warmth that you so desperately craved.

Hannah helped you freshen up. She sat you down on the bed and helped you calm down. While she ordered something for you to eat, you finally told her everything.

After hearing your side of the story, she was mortified. She held you close again while you cried in her arms again.

The event left a big scar on you. Cheating in itself was painful. But having to see the one person who was the reason you live, kissing another woman on your birthday and anniversary... That broke you in ways unimaginable.

The news spread like wild fire. The kids, their siblings, their parents. Somehow everyone knew. At least the close ones did.

Hannah and Olivia played a big role in helping you out of that dark place. You got into therapy. Chan's parents reached out to apologise on his behalf. Their efforts made you realise that... They really did love you. You really were appreciated.

In the meantime, chan was drowning in guilt. He had to take a hiatus. The kids only ever looked at him in contempt. They could not recognise the leader they once so respected and loved. And Chan's parents were utterly disappointed in him. So were his siblings.

2 months passed. Your lifeless eyes shined just a little more than before. You were finally getting to a better place. And soon, you were surprised by an unusual encounter.

Read this for more context.

You never could've imagined that Seungmin of all people would reach out to you.

Honestly, you loved the way he was. His sarcastic humour, his way of making you feel safe, his earnesty. It scared you a little. You fell for someone who made you feel safe and loved, only to be betrayed after all. You didn't want to make the same mistake again. But you didn't want to stereotype Seungmin into that category either.

During the movie, while the two of you tried to grab some popcorn from the same bucket, your hands touched just a little. You both looked at each other and though the dimly lit room barely showed much of the other in front of you, you found his eyes sparkling.

But this time, the sparkle just... Felt... Different? It was something you couldn't describe in words. A type of sparkle that was missing in Chan's eyes. A few months later, when he confessed to you, you found your heart fluttering just a bit.

You were scared, terrified even. You didnt want to go through that all over again. But amidst all that... You wanted to give Seungmin a chance... You wanted to test your luck just one last time.

And that one choice ended up being the best ones you'd ever made. The other kids were highly supportive. You felt loved all over again. When dating chan, you always doubted the love others had for you. But this time? This time it was different.

You felt seen, you felt loved, appreciated and... You felt alive... Alive all over again. Now you have many reasons to live. Not just one. Not just a single individual.

You have dreams to fulfil, places to go to, experiences you want to see with your own eyes and feel things you've never felt.

You found peace. You found comfort. And you found solace in his arms. In Seungmin's arms. Your life fell apart because of Chan's mistake. But you rebuilt that life once again. And chan? Well let's just say... He didn't quite get his happy ending. Was karma real? Yeah. Did he regret it? Also yes. But who says he won't make that mistake all over again?

A cheater is a cheater.

There's no going back once you cross that line. Even if it's chan.

Moral of the story: don't take back cheaters 😤😤

Fin~

A/N: this physically hurt me to write- like- the amount of times I had to rethink my life choices 😭 I didn't realise it when I was writing this, but I sorta related this on my real life events (only the angst part unfortunately 😔) but yeah!

Just so you know, if you're going through something, you're not alone. There are people who love and appreciate you so please don't hesitate to reach out 🫶 you mean a lot to someone without even realising it. It's way to early to give up so please keep going :) you'll find your flame once again!

[xoxochb]

Hey!! Can I request one with Jason and fem!reader maybe she had a bad day and went to see Jason and he comforts her and it's all cute please

— hoax

warnings: hurt/comfort + tons and tons of tooth rotting fluff!! pairing: jason grace x fem! reader a/n: this is for everyone who had a shitty day today like me

It started when you woke up late and missed breakfast and lunch. you had to scavenge for leftovers in the kitchen, even going as far as to asking the satyrs if they had stolen anything (they hadn’t— which was infuriating because usually they would have). you didn’t eat either meals today. then next at arts and crafts you hurt your finger with a hole puncher and had the be brought to the infirmary where you received stitches over your injury. then you couldn’t find your favorite strawberry chapstick and in a fit of ‘I’m not using cherry!’ you decided to leave your lips chapped (unfortunately you started peeling away at the dead skin until it started bleeding— you took your second visit to the infirmary after this)

then you found out that you had spilled paint all over your shirt and with your laundry not yet done all you had was an old shirt with a cringe saying written on the front of it. stupid luck, tyche would be hearing many complaints during your offerings at dinner (that is— if you even got to eat dinner!). the next thing that sent you into a frenzy was your siblings. noisy and constantly fighting. you thought it would be okay to read in your cabin for a while but the noise in there compared to outside was ten times worse. then you ran into a tree, how you even managed this was a mystery

now with your hair disheveled, a silly shirt with an inappropriate term splayed on the front, two injuries, and hot tears streaming uncontrollably down your face you knock on the door belonging to cabin one. although you were always welcomed in your boyfriend’s cabin the thought of walking in unannounced worried you. stupid anxiety, you should add that to your list of awful things that happened today. after five seconds you hear shuffling and the door opens in front of you. the sight of your blond boyfriend has you crumbling into his arms with a sob. jason is quick to return your embrace, one hand resting on your back while the other rests on your head, keeping your head against his chest

“come here, angel. come sit”

jason closes the door behind you and leads you to his bed, where you sit and curl yourself into him swiftly. he runs his hand up and down your back in a soothing manner— indeed soothing you

“do you want to talk about it?”

you sigh before saying, “just a bad day”

he frowns and places his lips to the top of your head. “poor girl. let it out, I’m here”

you indeed do. the held in emotions from the previous experiences from the terrible day you had pool out, soaking into jason’s shirt. when your tears slowed down a bit you begin to ramble about your day and the unruly events

“I woke up late and missed breakfast and lunch. then I cut my finger open with a hole puncher” you lift your pointer finger up to show jason, who kisses it gently. “and I lost my chapstick then I dropped paint all over my shirt so I had to change into this!” you grab at the fabric of your shirt and pull it up for him to see— displayed on it says, ‘reading is sexy’ “which apparently isn’t camp appropriate according to chiron. dionysus was fine with it though but again he’s fine with anything. then I was trying to read and my siblings kept fighting so I went out to the woods to read but I walked into a tree and then I just came here”

“you could’ve come over earlier y’know?”

“you were busy today. you told me yesterday”

“and you don’t think I would’ve dropped everything for you?”

you hide your head in his neck to hide the rising blood rushing to your cheeks. “can I sleep here tonight?”

“of course. we gotta get you something to eat though”

“after. I wanna stay here for a bit”

you lift your head up from jason’s neck, he takes this to his advantage and kisses your very chapped lips

“whatever you want”

[meazalykov]

lingering thoughts

lynn wilms x reader series

last chapter - next chapter

chapter seven

throughout your entire football career from your childhood club, to arsenal, then now at wolfsburg. training days like this were supposed to be routine. 

the german air right now is cool, crisp enough that running shouldn’t have been a problem, and yet the pitch felt impossibly warm. for you it wasn’t the drills, the sprinting, or the tactical exercises making your skin prickle with heat.  

it was her.  

lynn.  

it started subtly, almost unnoticeable. there were quick glances exchanged between passing drills, a flick of her eyes in your direction, the barest hint of a smirk playing at her lips when you caught her looking. 

as the session went on, the glances turned into something else.  

it wasn’t just eye contact, it was the way her gaze traced over you, studying, lingering longer than necessary. the way her eyes darkened slightly when you rolled up your sleeves, pushing the fabric back to cool down. 

the way she tracked your movements across the field like she was reading every step you took.  

you weren’t innocent in this either.  

you tried to focus, you really did, then lynn pushed her training shirt up, dragging it across her forehead to wipe away the sweat, revealing toned abs and tattoos you hadn't even known were there. 

your stomach twisted, heat creeping up your neck as your eyes followed the curve of her waist, the ink along her ribs.  

what the fuck.

you turned sharply, heading straight for the water station without a second thought. the bottle was cool in your hands, but it did nothing to cool down the warmth spreading through your body.  

“you good?” sveindís asked, watching you with a knowing smirk.  

you cleared your throat, unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip. 

“yeah. just thirsty.”  

sveindís snorted. 

“sure, you are. let me guess, the weather got to you?”  

you shot her a glare. however she just grinned, nudging your shoulder.  

meanwhile, back on the pitch, lynn was struggling to keep her head in the game.  

normally, she was locked in during training. today, she was distracted and her attention kept drifting, her focus slipping at the worst possible times.  

it wasn’t her fault, really.  

it was the way your jersey clung to you, the way your muscles tensed when you moved, the way you absentmindedly bit your lip whenever you concentrated. she was trying, really trying, to focus on the drill, but all she could see was you.  

“lynn!”  

poppi’s voice cut through the air like a whip, just as a pass zipped past lynn, one she should have intercepted easily. she blinked, realizing too late that she’d completely lost track of the ball.  

“you distracted or something?” alex asked, hands on her hips, amusement clear in her tone.  

lynn cleared her throat, straightening up. 

“no popp, i just—”  

“good,” poppi said, a smirk tugging at her lips. 

“then go do a lap around the perimeter.”  

the entire team burst into laughter.  

“oh well, we all know why that happened,” jule muttered under her breath.  

lynn groaned, throwing her head back before reluctantly jogging toward the perimeter.  

you, still standing by the water station, couldn’t help but smirk as you watched her run.  

training wrapped up shortly after and the team filtered into the locker room, the usual post-training talk  filling the space. there were complaints about soreness, talk about plans for the evening, teasing jabs thrown at lynn about her earlier distraction from jule and ari.  

one by one, players left, heading home for the day.  

until it was just you and lynn left.  

the room felt quieter, the absence of others making every movement feel louder. you sat at your locker, pretending to focus on breaking in your new pink adidas cleats, but your hands felt clumsy, your fingers fumbling over the laces because you could feel her behind you.  

lingering.  

watching.  

when you finally turned, lynn was leaning against the lockers, arms crossed over her chest, her gaze locked onto you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.  

the silence between you was thick, weighted, like neither of you knew what to say but neither of you wanted to leave.  

the dutch woman’s eyes traced over your face, your lips, before flicking lower…just for a second…before meeting yours again.  

your breath hitched because you should say something. anything. however, the words stuck in your throat.  

the both of you were in nothing except for training shorts and a sports bra. you are wearing black adidas and her in a neon green one. 

lynn stood there watching you, arms crossed, her expression unreadable… except for her eyes. they burned into you, and for a second, you forgot how to breathe. your own gaze flickered, trailing from her eyes down to her lips, before quickly snapping back up. 

however, it was too late. she saw it.  

a slow, knowing smirk pulled at her lips.  

“if you keep looking at me like that,” she mused, her voice low, teasing, “we’re gonna have a problem.”  

your stomach flipped, but you forced yourself to play dumb.  

“what are you talking about?”  

the dutch woman’s smirk deepened, “oh, don’t do that. don’t pretend you haven’t been looking at me like you’re thinking about something else entirely.”  

you opened your mouth to protest, but the words never came. suddenly, lynn was in front of you, standing between your knees, tilting your chin up with two fingers.  

your breath hitched.  

for a moment, you thought she was just teasing you again, drawing out the tension like she had been all day. then, before you could fully process what was happening, her lips were on yours.  

it wasn’t soft. it wasn’t hesitant. it was strong, demanding, and left no room for second-guessing.  

a quiet gasp left you before you melted into it, hands instinctively gripping her waist, pulling her closer. lynn deepened the kiss, her fingers trailing along your jaw before sliding into your hair, tilting your head just right.  

the taste of salt and sweat lingered between you, but you didn’t care.  

she pulled you up slightly, guiding you onto her lap as she sat down on the locker room bench beside the one you were sitting on before. she pulled you onto her without breaking the kiss once. your thighs straddled her, your hands pressed against her bare shoulders, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath your fingertips.  

she exhaled against your lips, her hands sliding down your back, gripping your waist in a way that made your stomach tighten.  

when you pulled away for a breath, lynn didn’t let you go far. she chased your lips, stealing another quick kiss, and another, like she couldn’t help herself.  

you didn’t stop her.  

no one was stopping either of you.  

time slipped away unnoticed as the two of you sat there, lost in the press of lips, the slow drag of fingers against skin, the way your bodies moved in sync like this was something you’d both been waiting for.  

unfortunately, reality settled back in.  

you didn’t know how long it had been, but the locker room was still empty. you pulled back slightly, your forehead resting against hers, your breathing heavy.  

lynn let out a soft chuckle, her tattooed arms still resting around your waist.  

“we should… we should probably go,” you murmured, but you made no effort to move.  

lynn hummed, her fingers tracing absent circles against your skin. 

“yeah… probably.”  

neither of you moved for a moment.  

as if a silent agreement had been made, you both pulled away, standing up. without a word, you turned toward your locker, grabbing fresh clothes, pretending like nothing had just happened.  

lynn did the same.  

the silence between you wasn’t awkward. it was thick with something else, something lingering. 

neither of you acknowledged it.  

as you tied your shoes, lynn finally spoke.  

“you ready for the game tomorrow?”  

you glanced up at her, your face neutral, your heart still pounding.  

“yeah,” you answered. 

“i’m ready.”  

she nodded, expression unreadable, before flinging her bag over her shoulder.  

you left first, throwing a casual “goodbye” over your shoulder.  

“goodbye,” lynn echoed, her voice soft, almost amused.  

next part here