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octaneink · 4 months ago

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Food Market Dates

Will Lenney x Fem!Reader

Summary : A totally cute, innocent date at the market where they try out new foods Warnings: Implied sexual themes towards the end and a discussion about pineapple being on pizza Notes: I am sorry gang idk what happened to me when I was writing this. It was like I was possessed, mostly for that part at the end.

The train rattled along the tracks, the dreary UK weather outside the window a mix of grey skies and the occasional drizzle. Will sat next to you, his long legs stretched out into the aisle, his hand resting comfortably in yours. His thumb traced lazy circles over your knuckles, a small, absentminded gesture that made your stomach flutter. He was scrolling through his phone with his free hand, the faint sound of whatever video he was watching barely audible over the hum of the train.

You, on the other hand, were engrossed in a book—paperback you’d picked up at the station earlier. It was one of those novels you loved, the kind that end up with a dog-eared cover and pages that smelt faintly of coffee. You were halfway through a particularly juicy scene when Will suddenly squeezed your hand, pulling your attention away from the page.

"You know what I’m most excited about today?" he asked, his voice breaking the quiet hum of the train.

You looked up, marking your page with a finger. "What? Finally admitting that I have impeccable taste in food?"

He snorted, shaking his head. "Impeccable taste? That’s a stretch. Remember the time you tried to convince me that pineapple belongs on pizza?"

"Because it does!"

"Because you’re wrong," he shot back, grinning.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. "Fine. So what are you most excited about, then?"

He leaned back in his seat, his hand still warm in yours. "The food, obviously. But also… just this. You, me, no plans, no stress. Just a normal, chill day. No arguments about pizza toppings, no you stealing the last bite of dessert—"

"Hey, that was one time!"

"—and no me having to remind you that pineapple is a crime against pizza," he finished, his grin widening.

You nudged him with your shoulder, laughing softly. "Well, for the record, I’m excited too. Even if you do have terrible opinions about food."

"Oi, my opinions are flawless," he said, though the twinkle in his eyes suggested he knew exactly how flawed they were.

You shook your head, leaning into him slightly. The train swayed gently, and you let your eyes drift back to the window, watching the grey landscape blur past. Will’s hand tightened around yours, a silent reassurance that pulled your attention back to him.

"So," he said, his tone light and teasing, "what’s the first thing we’re getting at the market? And don’t say something weird like… I don’t know, candied eels."

You laughed, the sound soft and warm in the quiet carriage. "I was thinking skewers. Or maybe that tea place we saw last time. You know, the one with the really colourful drinks?"

"Ah, the one you made me try even though I said I didn’t like boba?"

"You loved it!"

"I tolerated it," he corrected, though the smile on his face betrayed him.

"Sure you did," you said, rolling your eyes. "And I’m sure you’ll tolerate it again today."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, and you felt his thumb brush over your knuckles again. "Fine. But only because you’re cute when you’re smug."

You shook your head, laughing softly, and let your gaze drift back to the window, the train rattled on, the rhythm of the tracks steady and comforting.

The market was a riot of colours and sounds—stalls draped in vibrant fabrics, the sharp hiss of oil hitting a hot griddle, and vendors’ voices rising above the hum of the crowd. The air was thick with the mingling scents of spices, sweet sauces, and the occasional waft of fresh herbs. Will walked beside you, his hand brushing yours every so often, his touch light but deliberate, as if he couldn’t quite resist the pull to be closer. The two of you wandered through the bustling aisles, the smell of freshly steamed dough and savoury fillings drawing you toward a stall selling bao buns.

You stopped in front of the stall, the golden, fluffy buns piled high on the griddle, their tops glistening under the soft glow of the stall’s lights. You pointed at the pork-filled ones, turning to Will with a grin. "Can we get these?"

He nodded, already pulling out his wallet. "Anything for you," he said, handing over the cash to the vendor with a quick smile. His voice was soft, almost tender, and it sent a little shiver down your spine. Turning to you, he added, “But don’t let it go to your head.”

You rolled your eyes, but the way his lips quirked into a smile made it hard to stay annoyed. There was something about the way he looked at you—like you were the only person in the entire market—that made your heart skip a beat.

The vendor handed you a paper tray with two fluffy bao, the steam rising in delicate curls. Will leaned in, his shoulder brushing yours as he studied the buns. "Alright, let’s see if these are as good as they look," you said, picking one up and blowing on it gently before taking the first bite.

The rich, savoury filling hit your tongue, the flavours of tender pork, sweet hoisin, and a hint of ginger mingling perfectly. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, a small, contented hum escaping you. When you opened your eyes, Will was watching you, his gaze soft and intent, as if he were memorising the way your face lit up.

"That good, huh?" He asked, his voice low and warm, like the first sip of tea on a cold morning.

You nodded, carefully breaking off a piece of the bao, making sure to get a bit of the tender pork, the sweet hoisin, and a hint of ginger in one perfect bite. Holding it out to him, you grinned. "Your turn."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your fingers as he took a bite. His eyes widened as he chewed, a look of genuine surprise crossing his face. "Alright, that’s incredible. Another one."

You laughed, breaking off another piece and holding it out to him. He took it from your fingers, his lips grazing your skin again, and this time, you felt the warmth of his breath against your hand. The simple act felt strangely intimate, and you couldn’t help the way your pulse quickened.

The two of you went back and forth, sharing the bao bun between you—breaking off pieces, you feeding Will, and laughing as you tried to avoid getting sauce on your hands. The warmth of the buns contrasted with the crisp autumn air, but it was nothing compared to the warmth spreading through your chest every time Will’s fingers brushed yours or his eyes met yours with that soft, knowing look.

By the time the bao was almost gone, you held up the last bite, raising an eyebrow at Will. "Final piece. Who gets it?"

He grinned, his eyes locking onto yours as he leaned in. His lips grazed your fingers again, lingering just a fraction longer than necessary as he took the bite. "Cheers, love," he said, his voice low and teasing, the endearment slipping out so naturally it made your breath catch.

Your fingers froze midair, the warmth of his lips lingering on your skin. You quickly looked away, pretending to fuss with the napkin, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. Will caught your reaction—the way your eyes flickered, the slight smile you tried to hide, the way your fingers lingered in the air for a second too long. He didn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth twitched into a knowing smirk.

Before you could recover, he leaned in again, this time pressing a quick, soft peck to your lips. You blinked, startled, but before you could say anything, he pulled back slightly, his tongue darting out to lick his own lower lip. "Sorry," he said, his voice teasing, "you had a bit of sauce there."

You stared at him, your face burning. "There was no sauce," you protested, licking your lips.

He shrugged, his smirk widening as he followed your lips. "Could’ve sworn there was. Ah well, there's none now. You're welcome, by the way."

You shook your head, laughing softly to cover your fluster. Will glanced around the stall, taking in the steam rising from the griddle and the vibrant colours of the surrounding market. "Alright," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. "What’s next?"

You and Will wandered through the aisles, the vibrant colours of the stalls and the chatter of vendors creating a lively backdrop. You had just left the bao stand, the taste of the fluffy buns still lingering on your tongue. Will walked beside you, his arm brushing against yours as you navigated the busy aisles. His hand occasionally grazed yours, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that felt deliberate, like he was testing the waters, seeing how close he could get without fully taking your hand. Each touch sent a little spark through you, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

"So," he said, glancing down at you with a grin, "what’s next? You’re the food expert here."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I’m not an expert. I just like eating."

"Same thing," he replied, his tone teasing. "You’ve got that… vibe. Like you know what’s good."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile. "Alright, Mr. Compliments. Let’s see…"

You scanned the stalls as you walked, the two of you weaving through the crowd. The market was a maze of options—sizzling skewers, steaming dumplings, colourful desserts, and more. Will kept pace beside you, his hands in his pockets, but sometimes, he’d bump your shoulder or let his fingers brush against yours, sending little jolts of warmth through you. It was like he couldn’t help himself, and honestly, neither could you.

"Remember that time we tried to make bao buns at home?" he asked suddenly, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. "Don’t remind me. That was a disaster."

"Disaster?" he repeated, laughing. "Mate, we set off the smoke alarm. Twice."

"Yeah, because someone thought it was a good idea to crank the oven up to max," you shot back, grinning.

"Hey, I was following your instructions!"

"You were not!"

The two of you laughed, the memory of flour-covered counters and charred buns still fresh in your minds. Will nudged you with his elbow, his grin widening. "We should try it again sometime. Third time’s the charm, yeah?"

"Only if you promise not to touch the oven," you said, raising an eyebrow.

"Deal," he replied, holding up his hands in mock surrender. His fingers brushed against yours as he lowered them, and you felt the warmth of his touch linger even after he pulled away. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the noise of the market seemed to fade into the background. There was something in his gaze—something soft and unguarded—that made your heart skip a beat.

As you continued walking, the smell of grilled meat caught your attention. You glanced toward a stall selling skewers—yakitori, grilled prawns, and lamb kebabs. The skewers were glistening with a sticky glaze, the aroma irresistible.

"Skewers?" you asked, nodding toward the stall.

Will followed your gaze, his eyes lighting up. "Skewers it is."

You approached the stall, the vendor busy flipping skewers on a hot grill. Will leaned in, his shoulder brushing yours as he studied the options. "Can we try one of each?" you asked, turning to Will.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Greedy today, aren’t we?" He teased, but he was already pulling out his wallet and handing over the cash. His fingers brushed against yours as he handed you the tray, and you felt a little shiver run down your spine.

The vendor handed you a paper tray with the skewers, the smell of charred meat and sweet marinade making your mouth water. Will watched as you picked up the lamb skewer, taking the first bite.

The rich, slightly gamey flavour of the lamb skewer hit your tongue, and you wrinkled your nose, clearly not a fan. You glanced at Will, who was already watching you with that amused glint in his eyes, like he’d been waiting for your reaction.

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughed. "Not your thing, huh?"

You shook your head, handing the skewer to him. "Here, you can have it."

He took it without hesitation, biting into it as he kept his gaze on your face. "What’s wrong with it?" he asked, mouth full, his voice muffled but still teasing.

You shrugged, already reaching for the yakitori. "Just not my thing. Too… gamey."

Will chuckled, still chewing. "You’re just using me as a human bin, aren’t you?"

You grinned, taking a bite of the yakitori. The tender chicken, glazed with a sweet soy sauce, was perfect—juicy, flavourful, and exactly what you’d been craving. "Pretty much," you said, your mouth half-full. "But hey, you don’t seem to mind."

He finished the lamb skewer in a few quick bites, licking a bit of sauce from his thumb in a way that was unfairly distracting. "I don’t," he said, his tone light but his eyes lingering on you a beat too long. "But don’t think I won’t remember this next time you’re eyeing my fries."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Noted."

He reached for the grilled prawn next, holding it out to you. "Your turn."

You took a bite, the smoky flavour of the prawn hitting your tongue. It wasn’t bad—grilled to perfection with a hint of chilli and garlic—but it wasn’t your favourite either. You gently pushed the skewer back toward him. "Here, you can have this one too," you said, laughing.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression playful. "Are you sure? These look banging."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I’m sure," you said, though a small part of you wondered if he’d noticed how your pulse quickened when his fingers brushed yours. You took another bite of the yakitori, the savoury flavour grounding you. "I’m sticking with this."

He shrugged, taking a bite of the prawn. His eyes lit up as he chewed. "Alright, you’re missing out. This is delicious."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I’ll take your word for it."

Will reached for the yakitori, taking a small bite. His eyes widened as he chewed, a look of genuine surprise crossing his face. "Okay, you’re right," he said, his voice warm and a little teasing. "This is superb."

You grinned, holding out the skewer to him. "I know, right? Want more?"

He shook his head, pushing it back toward you with a soft smile. "Nah, that one’s yours. I’ve got the prawns."

You smiled, taking another bite of the yakitori as Will glanced around the skewer stall, taking in the sizzling grill and the vibrant display of meats. His eyes lingered on the vendor flipping skewers with practiced ease, the flames from the grill casting a warm glow on his face. For a moment, you just watched him—the way his lips curved into a small smile, the way his shoulders relaxed as he leaned casually against the stall. He looked… happy. Content. And it made your chest feel impossibly warm.

"Right," he said, turning back to you with a grin. "What’s next? Drinks?"

You nodded, finishing the last bite of yakitori and tossing the skewer into a nearby bin. "Drinks sound perfect. But only if you’re paying."

He laughed, the sound low and warm, and you felt his hand brush against yours again as he stepped closer. "You’re relentless, you know that?"

"Yep," you said, grinning up at him. "And you love it."

He didn’t deny it, just shook his head with that same soft smile as he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. "C’mon, then," he said, tugging you gently toward the next stall. "Let’s find something sweet to wash all this down."

As you wandered further into the market, you spotted a stand selling bubble tea. Visual samples of colourful drinks were lined up in tall plastic cups, the boba pearls glistening like little jewels at the bottom. You pulled Will over, studying the menu, your fingers still loosely intertwined with his. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, a small, absentminded gesture that made your stomach flutter.

After a moment, you pointed at the Thai iced tea and the classic milk tea with boba.

Will raised an eyebrow, his smirk playful. "Two drinks? Greedy, aren’t we?"

You smirked back, already reaching for your wallet, but he beat you to it, pulling out his own with a wink. "My treat," he said, handing over the cash before you could protest.

The vendor handed you the drinks, and you immediately took a sip of the Thai iced tea. It was sweet and creamy, the perfect balance of flavours. The rich, spiced tea blended perfectly with the condensed milk, and you couldn’t help but hum in approval, your eyes meeting his, Will was watching you his expression soft and amused.

"That good, huh?" he asked, his voice low and warm.

You nodded, holding out the drink to him. "Your turn."

He took a sip, his eyes widening as the flavours hit his tongue. "Wow," he said, his tone genuinely surprised. "That’s… incredible. Not too sweet."

You laughed, taking the drink back. "Told you."

Next, he reached for the milk tea, taking a cautious sip. The chewy boba pearls rolled into his mouth as he chewed, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Okay, this is amazing too. How do you always know what’s good?"

You grinned, taking a sip of the milk tea yourself. The chewy boba was a pleasant surprise, and you couldn’t help but smile. "It’s a gift," you said, your tone teasing.

Will noticed your reaction, holding out his hand for the milk tea. "Let me try that again."

You handed it to him, and he took another sip, his eyes lighting up as he savoured it. "Yeah, no, this is definitely a winner. You’ve got impeccable taste."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I know."

Then he reached for the Thai iced tea again, taking a longer sip this time. His face lit up even more, a look of pure delight crossing his features. "Okay, wait, this one might be even better. How is that possible?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Of course you like the one I wanted. Typical."

Will grinned, holding the Thai iced tea out of your reach. "Finders keepers."

"Oi!" you protested, trying to grab it back.

He held it high above his head, laughing as you jumped to reach it. "You’re such a child," you said, though you couldn’t stop smiling.

Will finally relented, handing the drink back to you with a smirk. "Alright, alright. You can have it. But only because you’re cute when you pout."

You rolled your eyes, taking the Thai iced tea and taking another sip. Will glanced around the drink stall, taking in the colourful display of drinks, but his hand never left yours. His fingers laced through yours like it was the most natural thing in the world, and you couldn’t help but notice how warm and solid his grip felt.

"Right," he said, turning back to you with a grin. "What’s next? Dessert?"

You nodded, "Dessert sounds perfect."

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, and you felt it vibrate through your chest. "You’re relentless, you know that?"

"Yep," you said, grinning up at him. "And you love it."

He didn’t deny it, just shook his head with that same soft smile as he tugged you gently toward the next stall. The market lights flickered on as the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. The air was cooler now, but you barely noticed, too focused on the warmth of his hand in yours and the way his shoulder brushed against yours as you walked.

The dessert stall was a colourful explosion of sweets—mochi, taiyaki, and towering soft serve cones in flavours like matcha, black sesame, and hojicha. You pointed at the matcha soft serve, the vibrant green ice cream swirling into a perfect peak, its colour so vivid it almost glowed under the soft lights of the stall. The earthy aroma of matcha wafted toward you, mingling with the sweet scent of condensed milk. "Can we get one of those?" you asked, turning to Will with a hopeful smile.

Will glanced at the cone, then back at you, his expression softening as he took in the way your eyes lit up. He didn’t say anything at first, just reached for his wallet, his fingers brushing against yours as he pulled it out. You couldn’t help but notice the way his lips curved into a small, private smile.

"If it makes you smile like that, of course," he said, his voice low and warm, like the first sip of tea on a cold morning. He handed over the cash to the vendor, his movements unhurried, as if he were savouring the moment as much as you were.

You and Will moved away from the stall, weaving through the bustling crowd until you found a quieter spot near the edge of the market. It wasn’t much—just a small alcove between two stalls, sheltered from the main flow of foot traffic—but it felt like your own little haven.

Will leaned casually against the wall, his shoulder brushing yours as you stood side by side. The hum of the market was still there, but it felt distant now, like background noise to the quiet moment you were sharing. You held the cone between you, the coolness of the ice cream a sharp contrast to the warmth of his body so close to yours.

"Alright, let’s see if this lives up to the hype," you said, leaning in and gently wrapping your lips around the creamy peak, sucking lightly to pull a bite of the cold, velvety ice cream into your mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, the soft serve like a whisper of spring—earthy, sweet, and impossibly smooth. The bitterness of the matcha balanced perfectly with the creamy sweetness, and you couldn’t help but let out a small, contented hum.

When you opened your eyes, you caught Will staring at you, his gaze lingering on your lips for a second too long. There was something in his expression—something soft and unguarded—that made your stomach flip.

"Your turn," you said, holding the cone out to him, pretending not to notice the faint flush creeping up your neck.

He blinked, snapping out of whatever thought had momentarily distracted him, and took the cone from you. But instead of taking a bite, he held it carefully in one hand, his eyes never leaving yours. The soft serve was starting to melt slightly, a tiny drip sliding down the side of the cone, but Will didn’t seem to care.

Before you could say anything, he stepped closer, his free hand sliding around your waist to pull you in. "I think I’d rather taste it this way," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

And then he kissed you.

His lips were warm and insistent, capturing yours in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened. You could feel the cool sweetness of the matcha still lingering on your lips, and Will seemed determined to savour every bit of it. His hand slid to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling gently in your hair as he tilted your head just slightly, deepening the kiss.

At first, his tongue brushed against yours tentatively, a slow, teasing exploration that sent shivers down your spine. But then, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer, the kiss grew more insistent, more passionate. His tongue swept against yours, warm and searching, as if he were trying to memorise the taste of you mixed with the earthy sweetness of the matcha. You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, the fabric of his jumper soft under your fingertips. You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, quickening just like yours.

The world around you seemed to fade away—the low chatter of the market, the sizzle of food on grills, the faint hum of music from a nearby stall. All that mattered was the way his lips moved against yours, the way his breath mingled with yours, the way his body pressed close, solid and reassuring.

When he finally pulled back, it was only slightly, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath. His blue eyes were dark, his pupils wide and blown with want, his gaze heavy with something that made your stomach flip. It wasn’t just unspoken—it was hunger, pure and undeniable. The way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered at that moment, sent a shiver down your spine.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice rough and a little unsteady, as if he were struggling to keep himself in check. "Definitely starting to see the appeal."

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, where a faint trace of matcha still lingered, and you could feel the slight tremor in his hand. It was as if he were holding himself back, but just barely. The air between you felt charged, electric, and you could see the conflict in his eyes—the way he wanted to kiss you again, to pull you closer, to lose himself in you completely.

"Will," you started, your voice soft, but he shook his head, a small, almost rueful smile tugging at his lips.

"Don’t," he said, his voice low. "If you say my name like that, I’m not going to be able to stop."

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared up at him. There was no mistaking the desire in his eyes, the way his gaze dropped to your lips again, like he was already imagining kissing you a second time. He wanted you—wanted you in a way that was almost overwhelming, and it was written all over his face.

But instead of giving in, he stepped back slightly, his hand sliding from your waist. He glanced down at the cone, as if grounding himself, and let out a soft laugh. "Guess I got a little distracted," he said, his tone lighter now, though his eyes still burnt with that same intensity.

"Just a little," you said, teasing, though your voice was a little breathless. You couldn’t help but notice the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers flexed around the cone, like he was fighting the urge to reach for you again. Before he could say anything, you reached out and gently took the cone from his hand, your fingers brushing against his in the process. The contact sent a little spark through you, and you saw his eyes darken as he watched you.

"Careful," you said, your tone light but your gaze holding his. "You’re going to drop it if you keep getting distracted."

He let out a soft laugh, though it sounded a little strained, and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, well, you’re not exactly helping," he said. His eyes dropped to your lips again, and you could see the way he was struggling to keep himself in check.

You took a small bite of the ice cream, the cool sweetness a sharp contrast to the heat building between you. Will watched you, his gaze intense, and you couldn’t help but tease him a little. "Want a taste?" you asked, holding the cone out to him, your tone innocent but your eyes playful.

He shook his head, a small, almost rueful smile tugging at his lips. "I already had my taste," he said, his voice dropping lower. "And it’s going to be a problem if I have another."

Your face flushed, but you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips. Will stepped closer, his hand brushing against yours as he reached for the cone. "But since you’re offering…" he said, his tone teasing as he took a small peice, his eyes never leaving yours. There was something in the way he looked at you, something raw and unguarded, that made your pulse quicken and your cheeks burn.

He handed the cone back to you with a smirk, his arm still wrapped around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. "Next time, though," he said, his tone playful but his eyes soft with something deeper, "I’m picking the flavour."

"Deal," you said, leaning into him, the warmth of his body a comforting contrast to the cool evening air. You took another bite of the ice cream, the earthy sweetness of the matcha mingling with the lingering taste of him on your lips. The market buzzed around you, but it felt distant, like the two of you were in your own little world.

Will’s thumb brushed lightly over your hip, his touch sending a shiver through you even through the layers of your clothes. "You know," he said, his voice low and warm, "I think this might be the best date we’ve ever had."

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his voice. "Yeah," you agreed softly. "It’s pretty perfect."

He chuckled, the sound rich and full, and you felt it vibrate through your chest. "Glad you think so," he said, his tone light but his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. "Because I’m not done yet."

"Oh?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, though your voice was a little breathless.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Nope. Not even close."

Your face flushed, but you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. "You’re horrible." you said, though the way your heart raced betrayed how much his words affected you.

Will grinned, pulling you closer as you continued walking through the market. The lights twinkled above, casting a warm glow over the stalls, and the scent of spices and sweets filled the air. His hand never left yours, his fingers laced through yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

As you strolled, the sounds of the market fading into the background, you couldn’t help but think that moments like this—simple, sweet, and shared with him—were your favourite kind. Will’s hand in yours, his laughter in your ears, and the promise of more ahead made everything feel just a little bit magical.

😮‍💨 damn. I got carried away with this one… Was that kiss realistic? I've never kissed anyone that wasn't a peck, so I just guessed at what it would be like. Was that okay? Do people have any pointers for writing reasonable make out sessions? 🤭But anyways… I hope people enjoy!

#willne #will lenney #willne x fem!reader #willne x reader #will lenney x fem!reader #will lenney x reader #willne oneshot #will lenney oneshot #will lenney one shot

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theneondreaming · 11 months ago

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eopederson · 6 months ago

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Escenas callejeras de Potosí XVI: La Moneda, 2006.

#urban landscape #streetscape #vendor #people #potosí #bolivia #2006 #photographers on tumblr #moneda #humor

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demensrage · 5 months ago

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l for lustful adventure ⚊ •. with shoyo hinata

summary: a fun anniversary adventure unleashes the most primitive desires between you. a lustful adventure that you are not willing to deny, there will be put into scenes what was never said between you.

cw: established relationship, dom! hinata, sub! reader, spanking, fingering, oral (m. receiving), overstimulation, unprotected, rough sex, creampie, thight riding, blindfold play.

word count: 9k 💀

You knew how beautiful Brazil was from the constant photos your husband had sent you, but seeing it with your own eyes is a delight that the images can’t capture. Everything looks so vibrant: the sky with an incomparable blue, the lush green plants lining the streets, and the warm sun that caresses your skin with an intensity unknown in Japan. The hustle and bustle of people, the aroma of fresh fruits and coffee floating in the air, and the contagious laughter of street vendors remind you that you’ve crossed the world to a culture where life seems to pulse in every corner.

Now you understand why Hinata had fallen in love with this place, why he spoke about it with so much emotion, why he wanted you to enjoy it too. And now you were there beside him, two weeks into your arrival, and you simply couldn’t get enough of the landscape. A few days weren’t enough to enjoy the wonders of this beautiful country, which is why it was easy to convince him to spend more time there. Your third wedding anniversary was fast approaching, and that was always a good excuse.

The first two weeks were spent enjoying São Paulo, immersing yourselves in its vibrant urban life, exploring the street art in Vila Madalena, the unmatched flavors of the Municipal Market, and the hustle and bustle of downtown. Now, you were ready for the next adventure: Rio de Janeiro. What you longed for most was to see the Christ the Redeemer statue, the imposing guardian of the city that, even in photos, seemed to convey a deep peace. You wanted to see for yourself if its grandeur was as real as it seemed.

You both decided that driving would be a great idea. This way, you could enjoy every stop for food or simply pause to admire the view. The winding road offered captivating landscapes; green mountains contrasting with the blue sky and the emerald sea that seemed to stretch endlessly. You carried your camera, ready to capture every moment and every special corner. From the small towns along the way, each with its own charm, to the street vendors offering sweets and guaraná sodas.

The trip itself was an adventure. The landscapes changed with each stretch of road, and every stop had its unique magic. Sometimes, you both would get out of the car just to feel the warm breeze or enjoy a fresh fruit bought from a roadside vendor. There was something about that road trip that made each kilometer feel like a small victory, a conquest of memories and shared experiences.

You remembered how hard it had been to stay together despite the distance. Hinata was in Brazil for his training, focused on reaching his dreams as a professional player, while you stayed in Japan, clinging to your studies, so close to finishing university that quitting wasn’t an option. The nights were especially tough; the time difference and the absence of his voice made the emptiness feel deeper.

However, you found a way to cope. Every morning, you woke up to a message from him, telling you how he woke up in Brazil, talking about his training, how the weather and the language were a constant challenge, but also his excitement about being so close to fulfilling his dreams. Sometimes, the messages came with spontaneous photos: one of him with his teammates, another of a typical Brazilian dish he was trying for the first time, or one of the urban landscape surrounding him.

For your part, you sent him pictures of the corners of the university, the notes you hated so much, and the books that seemed endless. These small routines became your refuge, reminding both of you that, although you were separated by thousands of kilometers, your lives were still shared in those little details.

All that effort, every sacrifice, and every day of waiting had been worth it. In the last game of the season, when everything was set for him to come home with you, Hinata decided to dedicate the final shot to you, sealing the victory in your name. The emotion overwhelmed you; despite the struggles to arrive on time, the flight delays, and the anxiety of a lost suitcase, you had made it just in time. The language barrier complicated everything, but nothing mattered at that moment. From the stands, your eyes met his, and in that instant, you knew he had seen you. With that unmistakable spark in his gaze, he made the shot that would define the game… and won it for you.

The stadium erupted in cheers, but for him, it wasn't enough; no, Hinata always had to celebrate in grand style. So, with his heart pounding a thousand beats per minute and emotions running high, he ran toward you in the stands, weaving through his teammates and the crowd until he reached you. He took your hand without hesitation, and, amidst applause and astonished gasps, he knelt down. "Will you marry me?" he asked, his eyes shining and a smile that disarmed you. The proposal echoed in the stadium, and in that moment, the whole world seemed to stop. You said yes, between laughter and tears, and you were the happiest woman in that crowded place because he, your Hinata, had made that victory a double one: he had won the game and also your heart forever.

Now, as you enjoyed this trip, you felt that every moment by his side was a new opportunity to create lasting memories, moments that, over the years, would fill your life with stories to tell. You were ready to enjoy his company in every stage of life, even when youth faded and the years brought new adventures.

As Hinata helped you take the bags out of the car, the golden light of the sunset wrapped everything around you, and although the city's sound was constant, you paused for a moment to absorb the view of the hotel. The horizon stretched out before you, with the sea reflecting the last rays of the sun and the mountains in the distance, like a perfect painting. You felt fortunate because this trip, like so many others to come, wasn’t just about the places you’d visit, but about what you shared on the journey.

Hinata approached you, noticing you had become still, and with a tender smile, he took your hand. "Do you like the view?" he asked, with the calmness that only he could convey. "Yes," you answered, not taking your eyes off the scene. "It's perfect. Will you take me to that bar you told me about?"

Hinata smiled at your question, his gaze lit by the sunset. "Of course, it's a special place," he said, interlacing his fingers with yours as he began walking toward the hotel. "It's close to the beach, with an incredible view, and the live music is always so good it makes you forget everything else."

The idea of sharing that place with him, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere while the sun slowly faded behind the mountains, filled you with excitement. You knew it wasn’t just the bar that made it special, but everything it represented: a little corner of the world where you both would feel even more connected, sharing laughter, conversations, and dreams.

As you walked toward the hotel entrance, you thought about how lucky you were to be there, at that moment. It didn’t matter how many places you explored; the most important thing was always being together, creating memories that would be part of your shared story.

Hearing Hinata speak Portuguese while asking for the hotel keys was a new pleasure you had just discovered. His voice, already soft and warm in Japanese, became even deeper and more resonant when he spoke this new language, as if each syllable were imbued with a warmth only he could convey.

The way his accent added a different twist to his tone made you smile unconsciously, a feeling of comfort and admiration that grew with every sentence. It was as if, by speaking Portuguese, his essence became even more charming, more connected to the land that had captured his heart at that point in his life.

You stayed there, watching him as he smiled while receiving the keys and offered you a knowing glance. "We'll be in the room soon. Would you like to rest or explore a bit more?" he asked, unaware that, by doing so, he had once again captivated you with that mix of tenderness and confidence only he could convey.

"Let’s go to that bar, I’m eager to check it out," you replied enthusiastically, taking his arm naturally as you walked together toward the elevator. The contact was warm, and the connection between you both felt as solid as ever.

"I rested a lot on the road trip," you added with a soft smile. "Unless you want to rest, of course." You turned to look at him, noticing how his eyes sparkled with that unmistakable energy that always characterized him.

Hinata laughed softly, shaking his head. "Rest? With so much to explore? Impossible," he replied, his voice tinged with excitement. "Let’s go to the bar, but promise me you'll let yourself be amazed by the night view from the beach afterward. It’s something you have to see."

"I promise," you said without hesitation, feeling more and more excited about what the night would bring. The elevator arrived, and you both got in, enjoying those small moments together that made everything worth it.

The bar's atmosphere was filled with a mix of laughter, soft music, and the melting pot of languages flowing among the groups of tourists and locals. The dim lights illuminated the tables, but it was the dance floor that truly caught everyone's attention. People moved to the rhythm of samba and other Brazilian genres with a natural sensuality that seemed to flow from every movement, as if the music had completely taken over their bodies. The bright colors of the dancers' outfits and the sparkle of glasses on the tables added a warm, almost magical ambiance that enveloped you effortlessly.

You felt comfortable, relaxed, with a glass of piña colada with vodka in your hand, the ice still crunching with the first sip. The sweet, fruity flavor of the cocktail contrasted perfectly with the stronger kick of the vodka, giving you a small push of courage. You were starting to feel the effects of the alcohol—a slight euphoria that made everything around you feel more vibrant, more intimate.

Hinata, seated beside you, smiled as he noticed your gaze fixed on the dance floor. There was something in the way you watched the couples, how they surrendered themselves to the music, that made him realize it intrigued you more than you had let on.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked, not expecting much more than a nod of acceptance. But he noticed something in your expression—a mix of curiosity and a desire to explore something new, something he hadn’t seen in you before.

You didn’t need more words. Without hesitation, you stood up, taking his hand and leading him toward the floor. “Yes,” you said, a mischievous smile surprising even yourself. “I want to try it. I want to see how they do it.”

The music grew louder as you began moving to the rhythm like the Brazilians. It wasn’t just the dancing that drew you in but the way every movement seemed to be a pure expression of sensuality and confidence. You, a little uncertain at first, grew increasingly comfortable, mimicking the moves with Hinata by your side, both of you laughing.

“I think I’m struggling a bit,” you said, glancing at your husband with a playful grin. “But... would you like to teach me how to do it right?”

Hinata looked at you with a mix of admiration and amusement in his eyes. He understood what that question might imply but didn’t want to rush to conclusions. His face lit up with a warm smile, the one he always wore when he saw you open to new experiences. “Of course,” he replied, stepping closer and placing his hands on your waist, guiding your body with his to the rhythm of the music.

Somehow, the dance, the alcohol, and the atmosphere charged with sensuality began opening doors you hadn’t considered before. As you moved more freely, you realized how much you longed to be closer to him—not just physically, but in a deeper, more intimate way.

What started as a fun dancing game quickly transformed into something more profound, more personal. His hands, firm yet gentle, slowly slid down to your hips, pulling you toward him with subtle but undeniable force. The music shifted, becoming slower, more sensual, as if it mirrored the connection forming between you two. The soft, rhythmic beats intertwined with the rapid thudding of your own heart, creating a unique melody just for the two of you.

Hinata guided you expertly, making your body move in slow, synchronized circles against his. Every sway of your hips felt like a silent conversation, a whisper shared between the dance and the growing desire. The brush of your bodies generated a palpable electricity, a heat that went beyond the room's temperature. You weren’t sure if it was the closeness of his body, the warmth of the atmosphere, or perhaps the combination of both, but the fire began to flood every corner of your being.

Your eyes closed with a soft sigh, surrendering completely. It didn’t matter if the music was slow or if others were moving around you; at that moment, everything else faded away. There was only the two of you, the rhythm of the music, the whisper of his breathing, and the touch of your bodies, as if the world around you dissolved, leaving you in a perfect, desire-filled bubble.

You felt more alive than ever, as though the simple sensation of his closeness was a reminder of how much you had been holding back, how much you wanted to explore. And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel insecure or shy. Passion, desire—everything you had kept buried—was now surfacing in a way you hadn’t known existed, but you relished it with every fiber of your being.

One of Hinata’s hands slid gently from your hips to your jaw, holding it with a firm yet tender grip that made your eyes flutter open slowly. His thumb brushed your skin with an almost reverent delicacy, tilting your face to one side as he leaned in. There was no rush in his movements, only a quiet determination that left you breathless.

When his lips finally met yours, it was as though everything else disappeared entirely. The bar, the music, the people around you… none of it mattered. The kiss was slow, deep, and full of emotions that seemed to have built up over days. You had forgotten how much you missed this—this intimate connection with him. During the trip, both of you had focused so much on landscapes, laughter, and new experiences that, unintentionally, these moments of closeness had been set aside.

The kiss became a reminder of everything you shared, a silent language saying more than words ever could. You felt the warmth of his breath, the firmness of his hands, and that unmistakable love that had always defined your relationship. His other hand remained on your hip, keeping you close, as if afraid you might pull away.

When you finally separated, his eyes searched yours, and in that gaze, you found a blend of love, desire, and something more—something you couldn’t quite define but that ignited the spark within you even further. “I missed this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and filled with emotion. “So much.”

You smiled softly, feeling your heart pound. “Me too, Hinata,” you whispered, your eyes never leaving his, loving the way he seemed to adore you even in the gentle touch of his gaze. “I think we forgot how important this is, how important you are to me.”

His fingers barely grazed your back as he held you close, a gesture that, at any other time, might have gone unnoticed, but now, with the warmth of his touch, sent a shiver down your spine. It was so subtle yet laden with meaning that your thoughts began to drift, taking you back to a recent conversation with your friends.

It had been a quiet afternoon, filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. They had started with light topics—travel, restaurants, daily routines—but, as always happened with that group, the conversation had turned more personal, more intimate.

Your friends, amid sighs and nervous giggles, began sharing details about their own dynamics with their partners. “Have you ever tried something… different?” one of them asked with a mischievous smile as she swirled her wine glass. “Sometimes, a little roughness can spark things you didn’t even know you wanted.”

Another nodded, bursting into laughter as she recounted how her partner had surprised her one night with a firmer grip, a whispered command in her ear. The way they spoke, with a mix of playfulness and satisfaction, had left you intrigued. Though you tried to stay on the sidelines, their eyes turned to you, expectant.

“And you?” they asked almost in unison, smiling conspiratorially.

You laughed, a bit nervously, as your cheeks turned red. “We’re… well, we’ve always been more… traditional, I guess,” you admitted, feeling slightly embarrassed, though your friends didn’t judge you in the slightest. “We’ve never really talked about anything like that.”

"Well, you should," one of them chimed in enthusiastically. "You have no idea how liberating it can be. It's not about stopping enjoying what you already have; it's about exploring more, discovering new ways to connect together."

Those words had stuck with you ever since, echoing louder and louder in your mind. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy your intimate life with Hinata; on the contrary, you loved him and felt that you shared something special. But the idea of exploring, of finding a different side of the two of you, had left you wondering. What if there was more to discover, something you both could enjoy together if only you dared to bring it up?

Back in the present, the touch of his hand running down your back pulled you from your thoughts. His eyes met yours, soft and warm, but there was something more in his gaze, a spark that had perhaps always been there but that you were now noticing more clearly. Could you talk about it? Should you risk breaking the silence on this subject?

What if this wasn’t the right moment? Doubt anchored itself in your mind, immobilizing you. Talking about your sex life with Hinata, though it shouldn’t be complicated, felt like opening a door you weren’t sure how to close afterward. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him—on the contrary, if there was anyone you could be vulnerable with, it was him. But the fear of making him uncomfortable or, worse, of him misunderstanding what you meant, filled you with uncertainty.

When is the right time to talk about something like this? As you watched him with that smile that always seemed to brighten any room, you wondered if a "perfect moment" even existed. Would it be on a quiet night when you were both relaxed at home? Or maybe in a spontaneous moment, like now, with the background music and the soft lights of the bar creating an ambiance straight out of a romantic movie?

You bit your lip, trying to untangle your thoughts. The way Hinata held you, how his eyes seemed to read yours, gave you a glimmer of confidence. But you still didn’t know how to start, how to put into words something so intimate that it could change dynamics you had both spent years building.

"Are you okay?" His voice came softly, pulling you back to the present. His brow furrowed slightly, worried, as if he had noticed something different about you.

"Yeah, of course," you lied with a smile, though he didn’t seem entirely convinced.

Hinata knew you too well, and the worst part was that he would probably give you all the time in the world to say whatever was on your mind. The problem was that you didn’t even know how to start. Maybe it wasn’t the right time, but you also knew that if you kept waiting for that perfect moment, you might stay silent forever.

Perhaps, just perhaps, it wasn’t about finding the moment but creating it.

"Don’t be reckless," you scolded yourself silently, as if those words could keep the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind at bay. You couldn’t afford to ruin the atmosphere—not now, not when everything seemed to flow so naturally.

But at the same time, there was something you couldn’t ignore: the feeling that this moment might be exactly what you needed to take the first step. The brush of his hands on your hips, the warmth radiating from his body, the way his eyes sparkled with a mix of playfulness and desire—it all seemed to conspire to push you to speak.

"What’s wrong?" Hinata broke the silence, leaning in a little closer to ensure his voice wasn’t lost in the music and laughter of the bar. His fingers traced small circles on your waist, a gesture so casual yet charged with intimacy.

"It’s just... nothing, it’s nothing," you replied hastily, trying to divert his attention with a smile that probably wasn’t as convincing as you’d hoped.

He raised an eyebrow, as if he didn’t believe your response for a second. "If it were nothing, you wouldn’t be so distracted," he pointed out gently, his tone filled with that infinite patience that always disarmed you.

You sighed, looking away toward the cocktail in your hand. "I don’t want to ruin the moment," you admitted in a low voice, more to yourself than to him.

"Then don’t ruin it," he replied with a mischievous smile, leaning in to whisper in your ear. "Just enjoy, and when you’re ready to talk, I’m here."

His words, simple but full of meaning, made something inside you relax. You didn’t have to rush or find the perfect words immediately. This moment wasn’t the end of anything—it was the beginning of everything.

You gave yourself a mental slap, forcing yourself to gather the necessary courage. You bit your lip hard, trying to silence the avalanche of doubts that continued to assault you. Instead of speaking, you turned with determination, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting your bodies move in unison to the music.

Hinata looked at you with a mix of surprise and tenderness but said nothing. He simply leaned a little closer to you, his lips brushing against your temple while his hands found a steady rhythm on your waist.

The warmth of his closeness and the electricity of the moment made you feel safe—for now. You reminded yourself that there was no need to rush. There was time. This journey, after all, was just for the two of you.

"When we get to the hotel, I’ll do it," you silently promised yourself, closing your eyes as you let the rhythm of the music envelop you. You had to do it—not because of your friends’ advice but for yourself. You wanted to open that door with him, to explore something more, something new, something only the two of you could discover together.

For now, you allowed yourself to enjoy this moment, feeling safe in his arms, knowing that when the time came, he’d be ready to listen.

You sat on the bed with a sigh of relief, your hands reaching for the heels you had worn all day. You took them off urgently, as if your ankles were begging for a break after hours of endurance.

Hinata closed the door behind him, leaving the key on the nightstand as he watched you with a slight smile. "Too much dancing for one night?" he teased, walking over to sit beside you on the bed.

"Too much dancing for these shoes," you replied with a soft laugh, massaging your feet with your hands. "But it was worth it."

"It's always worth it when I see you enjoying yourself like that," he said, leaning in to gently take one of your feet, helping with the massage. His firm fingers found the exact spots, drawing a sigh of relief from you.

The gesture made your heart skip a beat. You looked at him, his eyes focused on his task, his expression so calm and attentive. It was the perfect moment, yet you still felt a lump in your throat.

"Thank you," you murmured finally, more for the massage than anything else, though deep down, you knew there was more weight behind that word.

Hinata looked up at you, noticing something in your tone. "Is something wrong?" he asked softly, setting your foot aside and turning to face you fully.

You took a deep breath, feeling how the moment you'd been putting off all day had finally caught up to you.

The question slipped from your lips before you could consider if it was the right way to approach it—a sudden impulse overtaking you. But with Hinata, there was never a "right" way to do things; everything was always spontaneous, natural, as if the world around you disappeared in the space where only the two of you existed.

"Have you ever thought about... more?" The phrase hung in the air between you, a question laden with as much uncertainty as curiosity.

Hinata stayed silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on yours as he read your expression. It wasn’t the reaction you had expected, but it didn’t surprise you either. He had always been an open book, yet now, something in his gaze seemed deeper, more attentive.

"More of what?" he asked, his voice gentle, as if trying to understand exactly what you meant.

The vulnerability lingered in every word that left your lips, but you didn’t stop. You had started speaking without filters, and there was no turning back now. You looked at Hinata with determination, though the knot in your stomach remained.

"More about us, you know... sexually."

The words, as direct as they were, seemed to hang in the air for a moment, the weight of them filling the room. The atmosphere shifted immediately, the tension in the air palpable. But it wasn’t discomfort—not for him, at least.

Hinata looked at you attentively, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. His expression was a mix of surprise and curiosity, but also something else you couldn’t quite identify.

"More about us?" he repeated, his tone calm, as if he were processing what you had said. "You mean exploring something different? Something... more."

You nodded, a bit embarrassed but unwilling to back down. "Yes, that. I’ve been thinking a lot about it. I don’t know, sometimes I feel like there’s something beyond what we’ve tried, something we could explore together if... if you’re interested too."

Hinata stayed silent for a moment, as if deeply reflecting. Then, with a compassionate smile, he gently took your hands and intertwined them with his.

"My love," he said, his tone so warm it made you feel like you could trust him completely, "I’ve always wanted you to feel comfortable and happy. And I never want you to feel like we can’t talk about anything. If this is what you want, then of course, we’ll do it together, at your pace."

The warmth of his words gave you the reassurance you needed. There was no judgment, only an open willingness to explore what you desired—what both of you desired.

"Although... I never brought it up because I was afraid," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Afraid of making you feel insecure. I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t enjoying sex with you."

His words struck you right in the heart, his vulnerability opening up to you in a way you hadn’t anticipated. The gesture—his hand scratching the back of his neck, so human, so sincere—made you realize how much he had worried about you, even in moments when he hadn’t said a word.

"I didn’t want you to think I don’t enjoy having sex with you," he continued, his gaze lowered as if he couldn’t fully look at you. "Because I do—more than I can put into words. But I didn’t want to pressure you, didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or like there was something wrong with what we already share."

For a moment, you stayed silent, absorbing what he had just confessed. You’d been so focused on your own thoughts and desires that you hadn’t considered Hinata’s side, his own fears. You looked at him, and the affection you felt for him grew even stronger.

"But now I know we need to talk about this," he said firmly, lifting his eyes to meet yours. "So if there’s something you want to explore... I want us to do it together. No matter how different it might be, if you’re ready, I’ll be ready too."

The relief you felt was almost immediate. It was as if all the tension that had been building between you, the small unspoken fears and doubts, dissolved in that moment.

"You didn’t need to be afraid," you said softly, taking his hand and brushing your fingers over it. "I would never want you to feel that way, Hinata. All I want is for us to be okay, to be together, and to always be able to talk about what we want."

He nodded slowly, a shy smile forming on his lips. "So... we’ll explore whatever you want to explore?" Your smile was answer enough, and in the end, no more words were necessary.

What had started as an open and honest conversation quickly transformed into a deeper connection—both physical and emotional. Hinata’s proximity, his touch at once decisive and tender, made your heart race. Without speaking, but with a gaze full of understanding, he made it clear that you both shared the desire to explore the unknown, to dive into new experiences together.

His hand, firm on your hips, gently pulled you toward him with a palpable desire. You felt his warmth through the fabric, and when he sat you on his lap, the contact became immediate and electrifying. The closeness didn’t just ignite the spark; it turned it into a blazing fire.

His lips found yours with a passion you hadn’t shared in some time—a renewed passion born from the vulnerability and sincerity of your conversation. His kiss was slow at first, exploratory, as if savoring every second of this new chapter in your relationship.

Your body responded instantly, instinctively leaning closer, letting yourself be swept away by the intensity of the moment. The feeling of being so near, of sharing something so intimate, filled you with a mix of nerves and excitement.

What started as a gentle kiss intensified with each second. Hinata's hands, which until now had been so careful, began to move with more determination. They ran down your back, touching the softness of your skin with a mix of urgency and devotion, as if they didn't want to leave anything unexplored. The touch of his hands against your body sent a warm current through your veins, an intense sensation that you hadn't experienced like that before.

His kiss became more demanding, an unexpected contrast to his usual tenderness, but somehow it was exactly what you wanted. Every movement of his lips and hands brought you closer to him, and for a moment, everything else disappeared. The world outside the room ceased to exist, leaving only the contact, the shared desire that now flowed unrestricted.

Every caress, every brush of skin on skin, seemed to have a purpose, as if both could read each other's desires without the need for words. The touch of his hands, so firm and soft at the same time, ran over your body with a familiarity that felt new, as if everything that had been kept in the silence of the previous years now wanted to come to light.

Your hand traveled to his abdomen, under the fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin against your fingertips. There was something about that closeness that made you feel freer, more alive, as if you could finally allow yourself to be yourself without reservation. The pressure of his lips against yours, followed by his hand on the back of your neck, increased the desire to be even closer.

Each movement of his body towards yours made you want to explore more, discover more about what you both wanted at that moment. His hand, which had traveled to your leg, slightly lifted the fabric of your skirt, revealing your skin, making a shiver run through your body. The mix of sensations, the touch of his skin against yours was all you needed to lose yourself in the moment.

“Tell me what you want to do,” he whispered, his deep voice echoing in your ears, filling you with an indescribable feeling, a desire that grew with every word.

His lips moved with precision, leaving a trail of heat on the skin of your neck. Soft, barely perceptible bites followed by open-mouthed kisses that sent shivers down your spine. His breath against your skin mixed with the soft hum of the air conditioner, his every move igniting something inside you.

There was no rush in his actions, but no unnecessary softness either. It was a calculated intensity, a mix of dominance and attention that kept your senses alert. His firm hand on your hip held you in place, while his mouth explored every inch of your neck with a precision that seemed designed to make you lose yourself in the sensation.

His hands slowly moved down, firm and determined, until he squeezed your ass with a dominance that made you inhale sharply. The instinctive movement of your hips against his leg sent a wave of electricity through your body, suddenly reminding you of the question he had asked moments before.

“Tell me what you want to do,” he had said, and now the voice resonated in your mind like a persistent echo, as deep and clear as the heat radiating from his body.

You bit your lip, trying to organize your thoughts as your hips continued to seek contact, unconsciously marking a rhythm on his thigh. His gaze, dark and fixed on yours, seemed to demand a response, but not of empty words, but of action.

Your hands moved decisively, gripping his thighs with a firmness that made him raise an eyebrow, somewhere between surprised and fascinated. You knew how much you liked them, and you weren’t going to be shy about it. The pressure of your fingers on the well-defined muscles was a pleasure in itself, but the position you were in gave you more control, more freedom.

You moved your hips against him confidently, seeking to explore the connection his thighs could offer you. A spark of amusement crossed his face at the sight of your determination. “That’s it,” he murmured in a low, almost defiant tone, his hands returning to your hips to support you as he followed your every move.

With one agile movement, Hinata’s hands shot to your shoulders, holding you firmly but never losing his usual gentleness. Before you could process what was happening, he lifted you slightly, making you feel light as a feather in his arms.

With unparalleled delicacy, his nimble fingers slid your panties down in a determined motion. His dark eyes searched yours intently, as if asking for permission and confirmation to continue, though the heat in the air said it all. It was clear that every action of his was meant to make you feel better, more comfortable, and completely adored under his care.

Firmly, Hinata guided your hips back to his thigh, forcing you to sit on it once more. The intensity in his gaze left no room for doubt; in that moment, you were all that existed for him. The feel of the fabric of his pants against your bare skin was something new and unexpected, a contrast between rough and delicate that made you hold your breath.

With an almost frantic desire, your hips move hard on Hinata's thigh, searching for the perfect friction that will bring you to ecstasy. Each thrust of his leg against your pussy is like an explosion that shakes every cell of your being and leaves you yearning for more.

The wetness between your legs becomes overwhelming, almost painful, but you can't stop yourself. Each touch is like an intense electric current running through your body from your core to your toes. In that moment, you are completely immersed in surrender to the pleasure shared with Hinata.

You brought your hands to his shoulders, seeking a foothold as you let yourself be carried away by the need that flooded your body. The constant movement awakened sensations that were new to you, a heady mix of pleasure and vulnerability. Your fingers clung to the fabric of his shirt, an anchor you needed to not lose yourself completely in the whirlwind of emotions that consumed you.

"Are you feeling so desperate that you need to fuck yourself on my thigh?" Hinata whispered huskily, his hot breath tickling your ear. It was a question, but also a confident statement, as if he already knew the answer and was willing to take control.

Hinata’s hands slid down your hips, his thumbs tracing circles over your skin, heightening the intensity of the moment. The pressure of his thigh beneath you and the growing heat of his skin against yours made you feel a mix of euphoria and freedom that you hadn’t anticipated.

Hinata gripped your hips with a merciless grip, guiding you through each movement with surgical precision. “Don’t stop,” he ordered in a deep voice that rumbled inside you, charged with a fierce authority you had never known before. His eyes remained fixed on you, devouring your every expression as if it were his most prized food.

Without hesitation, you obeyed and moved with more confidence, allowing yourself to feel every touch, every pressure he generated as he held you with an almost painful firmness. Suddenly, his hands moved down from your hips to the base of your shirt and grabbed it with determination. In one fluid movement, he pulled the fabric up and removed it without hesitation.

The cool air hit your bare skin and it was such a sharp contrast to the heat of the room that it reminded you of how exposed you were in front of him. But Hinata didn’t stop there. With impressive dexterity, he found the clasp of your bra and opened it with a simple movement. The garment fell to the floor, leaving your skin exposed.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, almost as if speaking to himself, as his hands returned to your hips, making sure you didn’t break the rhythm he had set.

His lips returned to your neck, nibbling and sucking on the tender skin exposed before him, leaving marks, which for him are a direct way of claiming you in the sight of anyone. The whispered words of praise made your skin prickle and a shiver run through your body.

One of his hands settled on your back, pulling you towards him as he took one of your breasts between his lips. He gently tugged on your hard nipple with his teeth before rubbing it against his tongue, while his free hand pinched the other with a perfect mix of pressure and softness.

Your hips moved harder against him, seeking that perfect friction with each powerful thrust that made your body shudder with pleasure. Your head fell back, letting out moans and cries as his strong thigh repeatedly hit your clit and brought you to uncontrollable ecstasy.

“Hinata!” you screamed his name loudly, a desperate plea to climax. The movement of your hips grew faster and wilder, driven by a burning desire that consumed you. Your sensitive, swollen folds pressed against his thigh urgently, the juices of your arousal leaking from between them and soaking the fabric of his pants.

The pleasure was so intense that your words were jumbled together and coming out in incoherent babbles. His lips moved messily around your nipple, sucking and nibbling with deviously delicious skill while his other hand continued to torture the sensitive nub, making you even wetter than you already were. “Cum on my thigh,” he ordered you in a husky voice.

Your body was taken over by a loud moan that escaped your lips, dragging you into an orgasm that shook your entire being and made you tremble in Hinata’s arms. He stopped tending to your breasts, looking at you with desire as your watery eyes begged for his cock. But he wasn’t ready to give it to you yet, still wanting to see you come undone under his caresses before burying his member in your tight, wet hole.

“Please,” you begged, seeking his lips, but he stopped you with a firm hand holding your hair, keeping you in place. Hinata ran his tongue across your lips before gently tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth. “No,” he said firmly, “You will be a good slut for me and take everything I have to give you.”

Hinata held your hips tightly and dropped you onto the bed, your back sinking slightly into the mattress as he stood in front of you. His eyes met yours for an instant, heavy with something beyond words, something raw, unadorned.

With quick, almost mechanical movements, he unbuttoned his shirt. Buttons came free one by one until the white fabric fell from his shoulders, sliding unceremoniously to the floor. He didn’t stop. His hands moved to his waist, undoing his belt and pushing the rest of his clothes away in a hurry, as if they were more of a nuisance than a prelude.

Each piece went to a different place in the room. The movements weren’t delicate or careful; they were impulsive, as if time wasn’t something he could afford to waste.

You watched him from the bed, motionless but expectant, following each movement with your eyes, analyzing, processing. There were no smiles or unnecessary gestures, just the immediacy of a shared moment, the silence being interrupted only by the sound of clothes falling to the floor.

When he was completely naked, Hinata stood there for a moment, his breathing heavy but controlled. There was a palpable tension in the air, not of tenderness, but of something more physical, more instinctive. Then he leaned towards you, his hands resting on the mattress on either side of your body, and let the next movement speak for itself.

With a determined movement, he took the wrinkled fabric of your skirt in his large hands and pulled it up, exposing your hips. The skirt was a work of art, too pretty to be carelessly removed.

His hands spread your legs, exposing your cute pussy to his view. His gaze rested on it with a mix of desire and admiration. “You have the most beautiful pussy,” he said in a deep, almost husky voice. His honesty was so direct that it left no room for doubt. “It’s like it was made to tempt me… always so perfect.”

One of his hands gently caressed the inside of your thigh, while he used two fingers to part your swollen folds and continue to enjoy the sight. Your pussy glistened with the moisture that continued to ooze out of it.

He used his thumb to rub your clit, and you were so sensitive from the recent orgasm that your hips pressed hard against the mattress in search of relief. But his firm hands wouldn’t let you close your legs. Suddenly, he slapped your pussy. The sound of your wet skin being slapped echoed throughout the room.

“I asked you to be a good slut for me,” he growls as two of his fingers plunge into your dripping hole up to the knuckles. Hinata’s touch didn’t stop; his pace, slow and deliberate at first, began to increase in intensity.

His skilled fingers moved with increasing speed, delving right into that sweet spot inside you that had your body arching almost immediately. His gaze remained fixed on your face, attentive to every sound, every movement you made. Your eyes fluttered shut instinctively, immersing you in a sea of overwhelming sensations.

The change was instantaneous. You, who until then had maintained a fragile control, let out a stifled moan, followed by a succession of broken gasps that filled the room. Your body convulsed under Hinata's expert touches, while he continued to explore every corner of your being with his fingers and his burning gaze.

Your hands clung to the sheets with desperate strength, squeezing and twisting them between your fingers as they searched for something to anchor themselves to in the midst of ecstasy. The sheets gave way under your relentless grip, forming deep wrinkles where your strength marked them. The soft sound of the fabric tearing echoed in the room, mixing with your moans and sighs.

Moans and moans escaped your mouth in desperation, as you tried to pull your hypersensitive pussy away from Hinata's relentless movements. But he gave you no respite, he was determined to tear another orgasm from you. With each thrust, your inner walls tightened and unclenched in an endless dance, enveloping his fingers tightly. Hinata increased the pace of his movements, his fingers thrusting in and out with frantic speed, seeking out that sensitive area that made you shudder.

His curled fingers caressed and pressed against your most sensitive spot, sending waves of pleasure through your body. “You can take it, you have a greedy pussy,” he murmured, urging you to give yourself over completely to the ecstasy that awaited you.

"Your rubbery walls clenched tightly against his fingers, as your hips curved away from the bed in a sensual arch. Your voice spilled over into cries, calling his name over and over as your legs shook uncontrollably.

You couldn't help but moan at the overwhelming pleasure he was bringing you, the way he was finger fucking you so delicious it even hurt. "More, oh god," you moaned, your hand desperately reaching out to grab onto his wrist to find some support on him. "I need another, please," you begged desperately, because you knew two fingers would never be enough to match the feeling his fat cock was providing you.

Every single one of your moans and pleading words gave him the confirmation he wanted: you were completely lost in that moment, completely his. Hinata noticed the change in your breathing, his body beginning to shake with the unmistakable sign that you were close to climax.

You gasped, unable to keep yourself in silence, your moans increasing in volume and desperation. “No… please don’t stop…” you begged, gripping the sheets even tighter, completely lost in what he was doing to you.

Ecstasy exploded once again, a torrent of uncontrollable sensations flooding over you. Your walls clenched tightly around his expert fingers, as if they wanted to lose themselves in them forever. His every move was a symphony of pleasure, every touch an explosion of fire and passion. You couldn’t control the moans escaping your mouth, nor did you want to.

Gently, Hinata removed his fingers from your body and brought them to your lips. “Open your mouth and suck on them” was his command, and you obeyed immediately, tasting your own juices on his fingers. A moan escaped your lips at the feel of you on him. Hinata stepped away for a moment to rummage through his things until he found what he was looking for: a black tie. A smile spread across his face as he approached you with it in his hand.

“Come here,” he whispered, waiting for you. Without question, you walked over to him and climbed down from the bed until you were in front of his body. Hinata wrapped the soft fabric around you, covering your eyes. Firmly, he tied the tie around your eyes, securing it tightly, leaving you completely blind to what was to come. Your world instantly went dark, your other senses heightening. The sound of his breathing, the feel of the sheets, the feeling of your skin still warming from his touch.

“You can’t see now, but you will hear everything I do.” His voice was low, filled with absolute confidence, allowing you to feel safe next to him. “Now, get on your knees.”

With a mix of anticipation and submission, you complied immediately. Your body trembled slightly, unable to contain the excitement that coursed through your being. With your head slightly bowed and your hands resting on your thighs, you knelt before him. You could still feel your heart racing and the agitated exhale from everything you had already experienced up to that point.

“I want to taste you,” you said shamelessly, making clear your deepest desires. The thought of it alone made your mouth water. The boldness of your words made a cocky smile appear on Hinata’s lips, his gaze darkening as he took in the lust you emanated. One of your hands ran up his legs, wrapping around his hard cock greedily.

With a firm hand, you explore every vein and ridge of his cock, feeling the warmth and strength of his member against your palm. With your thumb, you playfully stroke the tip of his cock, feeling the precum leaking out onto your hand. Eager to taste him, you take a teasing lick along his length.

Hinata moves his hips against you in a rhythm that makes you crave more. Without a second thought, you take his member into your mouth, taking in as much as he can fit in while using your hand to circle what can’t fit in your mouth. You feel him tighten his grip on your hair as you bob your head up and down his length, stimulating his tip with your playful tongue.

With a sharp movement, Hinata began to thrust his hips into your mouth. His movements were quick and precise, hitting the back of your throat over and over as he gripped your hair tightly to keep you in place as he continued to fuck your throat mercilessly. His rough moans escaped between his parted lips, filling the air with a heady mix of lust and unbridled desire.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good.” His words were rough and raw, but his voice was filled with pleasure as he growled with each thrust. His hips moved in a frantic rhythm, thrusting back and forth in a constant cycle. His hands were firmly held onto your thighs, holding you up so you could keep up with the fluid motion of your mouth on him. Each sensation was intense and electrifying, making you wonder how you could last much longer.

With his mind clouded with desire, Hinata could only think of how good your warm, tight pussy would feel around his cock. He pulled his member out of your mouth, and with one swift movement, he pushed you off of him. His chest rose and fell with each labored breath.

“Get up,” Hinata ordered you huskily. He guided you towards the bed, waiting for you to climb in, and before you could turn around, he pushed your chest hard into the mattress, making it clear that he wanted to fuck you in doggy style. The tip of his cock slammed into your still sensitive pussy from his earlier ministrations, drawing an uncontrollable moan from you.

“Hinata!” you cried out loudly as you felt him thrust into you hard, his hips colliding with your raised ass cheeks for him. His hands held the swirling skirt at your waist to use as leverage to pull you into him with each thrust.

“You have the most exquisite pussy, baby. Fuck, you take me so well,” Hinata murmured between moans. One of his hands squeezed your ass and slapped it hard, while the other kneaded the sensitive skin. “Oh god, oh god, don’t stop,” you begged as pleasure took over your entire body.

A series of spanks echoed through the room, leaving red marks on your ass cheeks as Hinata thrust into you hard again and again. The steady rhythm of thrusting in and out of you made your skin crawl and your moans turned into screams of pleasure. Your inner walls clenched around him, refusing to let go. All you could think about was how well your husband was fucking you, his member pushing deep into your vagina and caressing your cervix, making you scream even louder.

Rebel tears fell onto the fabric of the tie tied to your eyes as you enjoyed each thrust. With one hand, you reached for your clit and stimulated it in circular motions, adding yet another layer of pleasure to your body.

You were sure that Hinata’s powerful hand would leave marks on your hips the next day, but that didn’t matter as he continued to pound you hard and passionately. Each crash against your inner walls made the sound of sloshing fill the room, and you clenched down harder seeking to milk him for all the pleasure possible.

“Please fill me,” you begged Hinata, moving your hips in rhythm with his and squeezing him even further inside you.

With one last thrust, Hinata let himself go and spilled inside you, filling you with his essence as you reached a climax so intense it left you shaking. Together, you lay there tangled in a mix of sweat and pleasure, until you finally caught your breath and broke apart to rest on the bed.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shoyo smut #—demensrage.

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theresattrpgforthat · 7 months ago

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Mint Plays Games: Changelings, Trauma & Gaming

Over the course of October and November, I returned to one of my favourite ttrpgs of all time with @thydungeongal and my girlfriend: Changeling the Lost. About once or twice a year, I get the itch to run the 1st edition of this lovely, lore-heavy game, and every year I come away from it thinking about its potential. This is meant to be a quick break-down of my latest Changeling session, as well as a reflection on the parts of Changeling that really touch my heart.

The Game.

This game happened over three sessions, involving a character creation session, and two sessions of play. We had one character who was a Darkling Gravewright - folks who dealt with the dead in their time in Faerie (and can also see ghosts), and another who was a Fairest Flamesiren, whose entire deal is about burning bright, but also burning out quickly.

I decided to give these girls a murder mystery, with a mortal body found just outside a gate to a Goblin Market, and a missing changeling to track down. We’d talked about themes of grief and addiction prior to my planning stage, so I figured dealing with both a death and a place that offers your wildest dreams (for a price) might be a good place to start.

I don’t like planning out specific plot beats in my games, so instead I tried designing the Market like an adventure location, with various vendors to tempt the players with their wares, while dotting the landscape with NPCs in various states of distress. I figured the Changelings would pick something that resonated with them, and we could go from there. This process also generated a few different villainous characters who could be responsible for the murder, which I’m glad I did, because as usual, what the players decide to do always falls outside the bounds of what the GM plans for.

The story ended up being about saving a kidnapped changeling from a hungry Fae, and bluffing through a group of Privateers (read: mercenaries) and bringing the victim to safety. However, they didn't escape completely unscathed - coming face to face with a True Fae caused a cascade of terrible memories coming back to visit one of our characters right after she thought she'd made it to safety.

Our session was an introduction to the world and lore of Changeling, and I feel like I did a pretty good job on that front. On the other hand, I felt like it was just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the things I think Changeling can be about.

The Potential

When it comes to the World of Darkness in general, I think Changeling: the Lost has a relatively sleek amount of lore regarding the various Courts, Seemings, and faerie characters. Each Changeling’s durance can be typified, but ultimately what they went through can be up to the player who designs them, and the Hedge is limitless in its weird and strange creatures, which gives the GM license to create all kinds of goblins and monsters to fit what they want their game to be about - and the players aren’t really expected to know what’s going on in there anyways. Most Freehold history exists in rumour, because talking too openly about it feels like you’re inviting the Fae to your front doorstep, and in the same way, the true nature of the Fae is left up to rumour and superstition, allowing your group to decide what they really are, or leave their nature forever a mystery.

That being said, the toys that you can play with are still more numerous than anything that you can fit into any one campaign, even if you’re playing that campaign for 4+ years. You can very easily play Changeling as a magical urban fantasy game (and I’ve done this fairly regularly with my group), but C:tL also has a lot of poignant themes that can delve into themes about trauma, addiction, and mental health.

Disclaimer: CtL is not always graceful in the way it represents mental health. There are antagonists presented in the books that come across as “madmen”, some pretty gross Merits you can take that can feel bad to play at most tables, and characters that have lost what makes them human, becoming threats to the players. However, I think that the Clarity system does have some interesting ideas in it that, if treated with care, can still provide some interesting depth to the game.

Clarity

Clarity is meant to be a measure of how well your character can tell truth from Fiction - a high enough Clarity score, and you can sniff out a Fae even if they’re trying to hide themselves; a low enough Clarity Score, and you have a hard time differentiating colour and smell, and might even start seeing an overlay of your Durance infiltrating your weekly grocery trip.

Your Changeling moves up in Clarity if they’re able to keep a stable life with elements that help you ground yourself and give you a sense of identity - and mechanically, once you spend Experience points. Your Changeling moves down in Clarity when they suffer “sins” - moments that disrupt that hard-won stability. This sins could be something we’d consider morally fraught, such as stealing, assaulting someone, or murder - but they could also be significant life changes, like losing your job, buying a house, losing a friend or getting married. You also always suffer a Clarity sin when you come in contact with a reminder of your durance - particularly a True Fae.

The higher your Clarity score is, the harder it is to keep yourself there. Smaller and smaller things can trigger a Breaking point, like going a day without human contact, starting a new college course, or using a Faerie token. Furthermore, the lower your Clarity score, the more difficult it is for you to tell truth from fiction - think of the scenes in Mockingjay where Peeta has to ask Katniss “real or not real” and try to trust her answers.

It doesn’t help that so many pieces of the Changeling experience after getting out of the Hedge seems designed to Fuck You Up - like the doppelgänger that’s been living your life ever since you left, or the fact that mortals can’t seem to notice the ways that Faerie has changed you: you can feel the horns on your head, but all they touch is a well-coiffed hairstyle. In many ways it feels like your whole experience with Faerie is invisible - and you’re fairly certain that even if you told a mortal the truth, they’d never believe you. If they did believe you, they would never treat you the same again.

I like this system because it doesn't really measure how "good" or "bad" your character is - instead it's a representation of how your lived experiences can often trigger symptoms even if others get lucky enough to survive those events with their mental health intact. I'm not a bit fan of derangements - but I think dropping in Clarity is an excellent time to ask characters about pieces of their time in Faerie that haunt them, and perhaps saddle them with Frailties instead - what personal rules do you have to follow in order to navigate the world when you have a hard time telling friend from foe?

Other Themes & Metaphors

The Fae themselves are also exquisite boogeymen, mercurial abusers without the familiar human emotions that we might feel more equipped to understand. They act on their whims and follow their appetites - and while real-life abusers often have very human reasons for being that way, we need not feel such compunctions from the Fae.

We might have to feel some compunctions about their right-hand Loyalists however, changelings who have agreed to work for their Fae Masters in exchange for some semblance of freedom. These are enablers: giving the Fae a step into the mortal realm and throwing mortals and other Lost under the bus, just so the True Fae won't turn their abuses back onto them.

Much of the ethos of the seasonal courts in the first edition has to do with different strategies for preventing a day where you find yourself back under your abuser’s control. Do you pretend that everything is fine, because they won’t recognize their victims if they’re happy? Make yourself physically stronger so you can tell yourself that you’ll win next time? Amass magic rituals in the hopes that learning just the right order of steps will keep you safe? Or do you make yourself as un-interesting as possible in the hopes that they give up on you for other prey? (Yes, I think the Winter Court could totally be all about grey-rocking).

On top of that, the Changelings that your characters embody (and interact with) are far from perfect. They have vices, fears and trauma responses that pull and push them into a dance of backstabbing, power-grabbing politics, full of seeking the upper hand and possibly even selling out their fellows in a gambit meant to keep the Fae focused on someone other than them. (A political game or LARP with these themes in mind feels so juicy to me.)

Next is the metaphors of power and/or addiction. The higher your Wyrd is, the more Glamour you can hold, and the more powerful your magic is. At the same time, the more Glamour you can hold, the more you need to hold it: what starts as a fun magical resource can grow into an addiction, if you lean into it hard enough. Sure, your Contracts become easier to activate and you can Incite Bedlam if you get powerful enough, but are you willing to chance withdrawal if you can’t get your daily fix of goblin fruit? How much are you willing to play with human emotions in order to get that sweet sweet taste of anger or grief?

Then there’s the seeming-specific traumas. Beasts struggle with wondering whether they can be human after giving in to animal instinct; Darklings fell into Faerie because they crossed an invisible or moral line and have had to make morally questionable decisions in order to survive. Elementals are used to being treated as part of the scenery, moulded to fit the whims of their captors; Fairest are constantly pressured to be the prettiest or the best with the threat of terrible terrible things should they fail. Ogres have undergone terrible physical hardships, including physical mistreatment and deprivation, while Wizened have been told time and time again that they are only worth something if they are useful. Stepping out of Faerie doesn’t magically “fix” any of these complexes, and as a result each Seeming has to wrestle with stereotypes even amongst their own: if you need someone murdered, go to a Darkling, If you need something made, go to a Wizened. If you need a hot piece of ass, a Fairest is sure to oblige - right?

Lastly, there's the Fetch: a copy of yourself that was made to replace you when the Fae took you away. This other-you is often so much better or so much worse than the person they used to be - they can act as a foil to your character, haunting you or making your life difficult, reminding you of who you used to be, or never letting others forget how badly you may have screwed up. In Changeling society, killing your Fetch is at the very least a regrettably convenient way of tying up loose ends, and at the most, a rite of passage. But it's also a surefire way to risk losing Clarity. Kind of a catch-22 situation, isn't it?

My Experience So Far

Past Changeling sessions I’ve run have included NPCs getting kidnapped by misguided friends, stumbling across characters who were at an all-time Clarity low, trying to save other Changelings from their Faerie kidnappers, cannibals, Fetches, and antagonists who are set out to betray one or more factions of the Freehold that is supposed to protect them. It’s always bits and pieces of what feels like a bigger picture.

On the one hand, I think that's to be expected. There's so much in this game, and I doubt that any campaign can really dig in to all of its systems and complexities. On the other hand, I’m not sure if I’ve been able to really dig into the themes of Changeling: the Lost in the way that I’d really love to be able to do.

The subject matter can be so close to real struggles, that I’m nervous about making those struggles too bare-faced at my local table. Gas-lighting, torture, hallucinations, drug abuse and cannibalism are so very easy to drop into a Changeling game, but are also so very easy to hit uncomfortable moments for someone who's unprepared.

At the same time, I think that playing a game like Changeling with a high-trust table that uses robust safety features has so many interesting stories that can give power to players, even if the setting is technically a horror one. I’ve been having conversations with @psychhound about a lot of the themes that folks try to explore in ttrpgs, especially in response to this post he commented on back in April. To summarize that conversation: TTRPGs are a great way for folks to tackle personal struggles and traumas from a safe place, in ways that can give them a cathartic experience or that can give them a fresh sense of identity. Changeling has been a significant part of those discussions.

I came to Changeling: the Lost as a fairly new GM the first time I picked it up, and the more I learn about Safety Tools and a culture of care, the closer I feel to getting to that game that lives in my head that lured me into TTRPGS in the first place. Every time I come back to It, I think I'm closer to pulling together a Changeling game that sinks its teeth into the themes I’m interested in and hit some of the grime beneath all that glitter. So every time I come back to it, I’m going to create funky little goblins and design weird Fae bars and take the characters’ memories and ask them why they hurt - figuring out how I can twist the knife just enough to peel back the glamour, without opening any wounds that we’re trying to keep closed.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #changeling the lost #mint plays games #mint speaks #world of darkness

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wintrwinchestr · 2 years ago

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obedience | part 1

summary: you decide to act out after feeling neglected by joel for over a week. it doesn’t go quite according to plan, but his punishment does help you unlock a new kink or two.

warnings: 18+, smut, no outbreak au, daddy kink, d/s and ddlg relationship dynamics, brat tamer joel, degradation/humiliation (use of slut, whore, 1 use of bitch), orgasm denial/edging, boot riding, pet names (baby, babygirl, darlin’, sugar, sweetheart, honey, puppy), entering petplay territory??, finger sucking, one face slap but she likes it (and so do i), taking/sending nudes at work, subspace, hair pulling, joel cums on reader’s face, cum eating, two idiots who finally communicate and apologize to each other, gets soft at the end bc i’m a woman of many interests, reader can be carried by joel but no other physical descriptions, winter’s limited knowledge of what contractors do, pic of girl in the moodboard is for bra imagery only, reader looks just like you!! :)

word count: 4.1k

a/n: this is extremely self indulgent so please don’t look at me!!! lil shoutout to @pascalisbaby for inspiring me to write something just so i can use “puppy” bc their love’s gonna get you killed series has fucked me up extremely bad.

divider by @saradika

(read part 2 here)

It’s coming up on nearly a week and a half of Joel working long days and late nights at the latest suburban McMansion he’s been contracted out to. Each and every time he creeps into his side of the bed after you’ve already gone to sleep, never failing to wake you up in the process, he always has a different excuse. “My concrete guy was out sick today”, “the vendor gave us the wrong size rebar”, “the landscapers were in our way all damn day”, and other similar eye roll-inducing anecdotes that were followed up with sleepy apologies.

Tonight, you’re almost certain, will be just the same.

Slogging through yet another slow and uneventful day at your corporate nine-to-five, you’re practically counting down the seconds until you’ll be able to escape your drab little cubicle for the day. You aren’t exactly looking forward to going home, though, either. You know that all you have waiting for you will be another lonely night of heating up a frozen dinner, watching reality TV reruns until the ten o’clock news comes on, and then tucking yourself into a cold bed.

While you’re waiting around for a coworker to message you back about something painfully unimportant, you decide to get up to kill some time in the bathroom on your phone and stretch your legs a bit. You stand up from your rolling chair, grabbing your phone in the process, and head down the hall to the one single-person bathroom in the building that you know of.

You step inside and click the lock shut behind you, looking forward to having a rare few minutes to yourself without the threat of your manager lurking over your shoulder. You inspect your makeup in the mirror and address some flyaway hairs before leaning back against the sink and swiping your home screen into view. Your heart soars at the discovery of a text notification from Joel, but settles just as quickly when you read the words across your screen.

A couple of my dumbass guys fucked up some measurements again. Gonna be another late one. Sorry baby.

You let out an exasperated sigh and turn around to face your reflection again, bracing yourself on the edge of the sink and trying not to cry. How much fucking longer are you going to have to put up with this? You'd been getting through it alright so far, but his sterile text had ignited a raging fire deep in your stomach that made a scorching heat climb its way up the back of your neck.

You’re determined to get his attention tonight, one way or another. Even if it means pushing some of his buttons, riling him up, making him feel a few licks of that very same inferno. You’re feeling fucking bratty.

You undo the top few buttons of your blouse and shimmy it off your shoulders, exposing the blushing lace of the bra you had chosen when you were getting dressed this morning. Using one arm to hold your phone up to the mirror with the camera app open, you use the other one to prop yourself up against the sink and assist in pushing your tits together. As a final touch, you pull down one of the delicate cups along with its accompanying strap, exposing an already peaked nipple. Meeting your own eyes in the reflection and forming your glossy lips into a faux pout, you snap the picture and attach it to your text conversation with Joel. You type out a coy little message to go along with it and send it off.

that’s okay daddy. just sad i wore a rly cute bra today for nothing :(

While you anxiously wait for his response, you take a few more lewd photos to tease him with later, and make your way back to your desk after you button yourself up again and smooth out your skirt.

Sitting back down at your cubicle, you check your notifications to find a response from Joel, sent just a few seconds ago.

What’d I tell you about sendin me shit like that when I’m at work? Put your fuckin tits away babygirl. Not in the mood today.

Despite his harsh words, you know your plan is already working in your favor. You can’t help but giggle to yourself as you attach another one of the photos you had taken in the bathroom, this one of your matching lace panties pulled aside to expose your bare pussy to the front camera. You type out another flirtatious message and tap the button to send it.

idk what u mean daddy :( just miss u is all. she misses u too :((

You promptly turn off your phone and place it screen-down next to your mousepad, resigning yourself to a mere ten minutes of work before you can’t resist temptation anymore and pick it back up again to check for a reply.

Last warning babygirl. I got enough shit to deal with today, don’t need your slutty pictures distractin me. I’ll see ya tonight.

whatever. u don’t pay attention to me anymore anyway :/

You begin to regret your message as soon as you send it, worrying you might have taken things too far. But it was true; you’re upset, in a bratty mood, and feeling neglected. And, maybe you did want to work him up enough for him to take it all out on you, to fuck the attitude out of you the way you know he likes to do every so often.

A few seconds after you power off your screen to do a few more minutes of work, it illuminates again.

Oh I don't? When I get home tonight you better be kneelin in front of the door waitin for me undressed like a good girl. Not like the fuckin brat you’re actin like. And we’ll see about payin you some attention. Now pull your fuckin panties up and get back to work.

Your heart jumps into your throat as you read his text, now feeling exhilarated that your plan is officially in motion. After you’ve read his words through a couple of times, squeezing your thighs together and stifling a whimper as you did so, your trembling fingers type out a simple reply:

yes daddy <3

The remainder of your work day seems to pass by in slow motion, every minute feeling more like five. You can hardly bring yourself to focus on any of your mundane tasks, your mind constantly drifting to what you might be in for tonight. Will he spank you and leave red handprints on your ass for days? Will he fuck your face while you sputter and gasp around him? Will he work you over with his tongue until all you know how to say is “I’m sorry, Daddy”? As you shake yourself from your trance and try to focus your eyes again, you wonder why you hadn’t thought to act up like this earlier in the week. You keep your eye on the little digital clock in the corner of your monitor for the last five consecutive minutes of your work day, and as soon as 4:59 flashes to 5:00, you practically sprint out to your car in your hurry to get home.

–

You’re cuddled up on the couch underneath your favorite fleece blanket, already stripped down to your peony-colored underwear set like Joel had requested. The past couple of hours have been spent cycling between all of your streaming services and social media apps, trying desperately to find something to occupy yourself with until he gets home. You’re half-tempted to get up and walk some laps around the house, but around 10:30, you finally see the scanning headlights of Joel’s pickup as it turns into the driveway.

You immediately spring up from your little nest on the couch and prance over to the front door, kneeling a few feet in front of it just like he ordered.

In your excited anticipation to see him, you tune your ears to pick up every little sound you hear as he makes his way to you: the slam of the truck’s driver’s side door, the dull thud of his work boots heading up the walkway, the prolonged jingling of his keys as he fumbles with them to unlock the door. You’re sure he’s fidgeting with them for a few seconds longer than usual, just to tease you and keep you waiting. A shiver runs up your spine and you can feel your heart pounding against the walls of your chest as he finally turns the lock.

He calmly steps inside and closes the door behind him, dropping his dusty work bag onto the floor and stripping himself of his canvas tool belt. He stalks over to where you’re knelt on the hardwood, wrapped in your dainty lace for him like a little doll. There’s something arousing about the contrast between your barely-there feminine attire and his dark, practical clothing.

“Well, whaddya know, she can be good after all… Waitin’ for me all nice and pretty just like I asked. All it takes is an order from your Daddy to get you actin’ right again, ain’t that right, babygirl? Obedient lil’ thing…” He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger as he speaks, keeping your eyes trained on his. You nod up at him, doe-eyed and dazed, already feeling yourself beginning to slip into that familiar saccharine headspace.

Every time you had previously tried your hand at bratting, it never lasted very long, and tonight was already proving to be no different. He was right, after all, it doesn’t take more than a command, a look, a gentle grasp of your chin, to remind you of your desire to be good for him.

“What, Daddy doesn’t get a proper greetin’ after a long day o’ work? You already that far gone f’ me, can’t use your words proper like a big girl?”

“H-hi, Daddy… Missed you today,” you half-whisper, your voice sounding a little higher and further away than it did earlier in the day.

“Yeah, I know y’ did… I’ll bet your lil’ panties are ‘bout soaked through already, bet you left a wet spot on your fuckin’ desk chair just from daydreamin’ about what I was gonna do to you tonight, hm?”

Another silent nod accompanied by a pitiful little whimper. The blazing fire in your gut from this afternoon is quickly being replaced by something much more easily tamed, something more akin to a flickering candle flame than a wildfire. You struggle to keep your eyelids open as they begin to feel heavier with submission.

A stern look and a ticked jaw is enough for you to correct your wordless response.

“Y-yes, Daddy…”

“And what is it that you think I’m gonna do with you tonight, babygirl? Speak up, now…”

You rack your brain for a moment, suddenly unable to remember any of the depraved fantasies you had been conjuring up all day instead of replying to emails. You eventually land on a relatively straightforward answer.

“I th-think you’re gonna… gonna fuck the attitude outta me, t-teach me a lesson… right, Daddy?”

He lets out a dark chuckle, releasing your chin from his hold to give your cheek a couple of condescending pats instead.

“Aww, dumb lil’ thing… you thought Daddy was gonna touch you at all tonight, make that pathetic lil’ pussy cum after the stunts you were pullin’ today? Nah, I don’t think so… Open that slutty fuckin’ mouth.”

You’re reeling, taken aback by his harsh words, words that were certainly not in any of the countless scenarios you had been imagining at work. There’s a long beat of silence as you struggle to process his command.

You hear the smack across your face before you feel the heated sting of it, and it prompts a debauched mewl to spill from your parted lips.

“I said open your fuckin’ mouth…”

Your jaw falls slack in an instant, your pulsing cunt releasing an ashamed wave of wetness at the degrading slap. Joel shoves his thumb inside your waiting mouth, and you wrap your lips around it obediently as you swirl your tongue along its calloused landscape. It tastes salty, a little dirty, and you like it.

“Good girl, suck on Daddy’s thumb, tha’s it… dumb whore’ll suck on anything Daddy puts in her mouth, won’t she? Desperate lil’ thing… Bet you wish it was this fat cock instead, don’t you baby?”

You whine and nod around him, your hole squeezing around nothing as you look up at him with pleading eyes.

“Well… that’s just too fuckin’ bad, ain’t it? Tonight’s not about what you want, you can gimme that sad puppy look all you like, sugar, not gonna change anythin’...”

He pulls his thumb out of your mouth, and your slick lips try to chase after it until he wipes it clean on the side of your face. His hands make quick work of opening his stained work jeans and freeing his stiff cock from his briefs, taking it into one hand and beginning to pump it with languid strokes. He grabs a fistful of hair at the base of your skull with his free hand and taps the leaking head of his length against your cheek, adding to the dampness there from your own saliva.

“This what you want?” Tap tap tap. “You want Daddy’s cock? Hm? This what you been thinkin’ about all day, dirty girl?” He rocks his hips back and forth as he speaks, smearing his arousal along your skin.

You can’t help but squirm as a humiliated heat begins to pool in your tummy.

“Yes, Daddy, please let me have it, wan’ it so bad…” you beg.

He releases your hair and pulls his cock away from your face, making a show of massaging it and taunting you with what he won’t let you have.

“Nah, you ain’t gettin’ any of Daddy’s cock tonight, baby… In fact, I’m gonna stand right here and take care of m’self, and you’re gonna find somethin’ to rub that soakin’ cunt on while I watch…”

As the last of his words leave his lips, he steps one foot forward and nudges it between your thighs, looking at you expectantly. You lower your head to face his steel-toed work boot, covered in dust and dirt from his day at the construction site. Your mind still too deep in the clouds to understand what he’s asking of you, you lift your eyes back up to him for guidance. He juts his chin out in a silent “go on, then”, and you return your confused gaze back to his boot, the toe of which is positioned just in front of your aching heat. Your breath hitches and your eyes go wide as you finally realize: he wants to pleasure himself to the sight of you getting yourself off on his boot.

All at once, it falls into place how he wants the night to unfold. He wants to deny you. Deny you of his touch, his cock, even the privilege of making him feel good yourself… all because you acted out, disobeyed him, tested his limits.

“We understand each other, darlin’?”

“Y-yes, Daddy…” You meet his eyes as you speak, voice coming out a little unsteady. Any confidence you had while you were teasing him this afternoon is long gone, fully submitting to him now and completely at his mercy. He didn’t need to fuck you in order to put you in your place, he knew plenty of other much more degrading ways to rid you of your bratty attitude, to remind you of who you belong to.

You position your cunt over the filthy toe of his boot, the gusset of your lacy panties now completely saturated with your wetness. Your hands planted on either side of his leg, you try an experimental grind onto the leather-covered steel. A bolt of electricity shoots from your swollen clit to your fevered cheeks, burning with the eroticism of being made to humiliate yourself like this. He allows you to wrap your arms around his calf, using his sturdy form as leverage to rub yourself harder and faster against the solid material.

“Look at you, humpin’ my boot like a fuckin’ dog… that’s just what y’ are, ain’t it? Daddy’s lil’ puppy…” he teases, spurring you on with his words and the indecent sounds of his wet fist working along his thick cock.

You let out an involuntary yelp at the new pet name, which he’s quick to catch with a huff through his nose.

“Oh, she likes that, don’t she? Y’ like that, sweetheart, bein’ Daddy’s good girl, his obedient lil’ puppy? Yeah, I know y’ do… I got you trained good, don’t I? Do just about anything I want, won’t you? Got you rubbin’ that slutty pussy on my fuckin’ boot, for Christ’s sake, barely even had to ask… fuckin’ pathetic.”

The degradation makes your stomach swirl with a cocktail of embarrassment and pleasure. Your cunt flutters as you continue your frantic movements, releasing broken whimpers that sound something like uh huh and yes, Daddy. You’re sure that your slick has to be dripping down his boot by now, soaking straight through the leather and pooling onto the hardwood. You wonder if he might punish you for that, too, for making a mess of him and your freshly mopped floors. Just the thought of it has your hips picking up the pace, desperate to reach your high.

Your eyes are shut tightly as you pursue your orgasm, but you can still hear the shallow pumps of Joel’s fist and his stuttering breaths that indicate he’s close to his own release.

“Yeah, grind that sloppy fuckin’ puppy cunt on Daddy’s boot, there ya go… lookin’ like a goddamn bitch in heat… desperate whore… c’mon, puppy, make a fuckin’ mess for me…”

“I’m gonna cum, Daddy, gonna–”

Just as you feel yourself about to crest the wave of your climax, he pulls his foot out from under you and yanks your head back by another fistful of hair.

“Open up, puppy,” he groans as he splashes his hot release all over your face, aiming most of it around your mouth as you cry out from the denial of your own pleasure.

“Look at you, filthy girl… So pretty for Daddy, all covered in me,” he coos as the last few milky drops land on your cheek. Before any of it can start to drip, he scoops it up with his thumb and feeds it to you a bit at a time, and you continue to suck his finger into your eager mouth once again.

When your face is fully cleaned of his spend, he pulls his thumb from between your lips for a final time with a pop, and you stick out your tongue to show him you’ve swallowed everything he’s given you.

“Good girl,” he praises, petting the side of your hair in soothing strokes. “What do you say to Daddy, hm?”

“Th-thank you…” you choke out, still trying to steady your voice.

“And what else?” he asks.

You take a deep breath. “And… I’m sorry, Daddy,” you relent.

“For what, sweet girl?”

This was always your least favorite part, the part you struggled with the most: admitting that you were wrong.

“For being a brat today, for not listening and disrespecting you…” Your posture deflates, wondering if you should continue your confession. You remember one of the ground rules that was laid out when you first entered this dynamic with him, the one about how important communication is, and decide to keep going. “I jus’ feel like you’ve hardly paid any attention to me the past few days…” You start to sniffle as you speak, the overwhelm of it all finally catching up with you.

“Oh…” he breathes sympathetically. “Here, can you stand up, babygirl? C’mon, come sit on Daddy’s lap for a minute.”

He offers you his hands, and you use them to push yourself up onto shaky legs, feeling like a newborn foal. You wrap your arms around his neck and he scoops you up, carrying you bridal-style back to your cozy spot on the couch. He situates you in his lap, wrapping you up in your blanket again, and you bury your face in the warm expanse of skin between his shoulder and neck. You inhale through your nose, smiling to yourself and sighing contentedly when your senses are flooded with his natural comforting smell.

“I know I’ve been workin’ some real late nights recently… I’m sorry about that, honey,” he apologizes, rubbing comforting circles around your upper back.

“‘S okay, Daddy, ‘s not your fault,” you say into his skin.

“But I shoulda made more of an effort to give you some lovin’ anyway, I shouldn’t have had to wait for you to brat on me… Look at me, baby.” You lift your head and meet his sincere gaze, his eyes flicking back and forth between yours. “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“I’m sorry too, Daddy.”

“I know y’ are, sweet girl, I know…”

You exchange warm smiles, and he curls his pointer finger under your chin to pull your face toward his, placing a delicate kiss to your lips. He settles both of his large hands on either side of your face before breaking the kiss to press your foreheads together. You close your eyes and try to match his breathing, enjoying this moment with him.

After a minute or so, you break the silence. “So… puppy, huh? That’s a new one,” you giggle.

He laughs and releases your face from his hold, meeting your eyes again. “Jus’ wanted to try somethin’ new, I guess…” He snakes a hand under the blanket, thumbing over the damp crotch of your panties. “And judgin’ by this lil’ mess down here, I take it you liked it. Hm, pretty girl?”

Still sensitive from your earlier denial, you let out a high pitched little whine and an involuntary buck of your hips into his hand.

“See? Even sound like a lil’ puppy… Daddy’s good girl. You want Daddy to train you, babygirl, you wanna be his pretty lil’ pet?”

“Uh huh, yes, Daddy, please…” Your face is buried in his chest as you rut into his hand, squeezing it between your thighs, back to the same place you were just before he pulled his boot out from underneath you.

“Daddy was so mean earlier, wasn’t he? Not lettin’ you cum, punishin’ you for actin’ up… But I think you’ve learned your lesson now, huh puppy? C’mon, sweet girl, let go, soak Daddy’s hand…”

And you do. With his permission, you cry out, muscles spasming and cunt twitching as you finally ride out the climax you’ve been chasing all night. You’re panting by the time you start to come down after what feels like several minutes, exhaustion hitting you hard all at once. When some of your awareness has come back to you, you realize that Joel is gently rocking you back and forth on his lap, petting the back of your head and gently shushing in your ear.

“Shh, shh, you’re alright, babygirl, I gotcha, Daddy’s gotcha… So good for me, baby, my precious girl…”

When your breathing evens out once more, you muster the strength to lift your head from its place against his heart, and he chuckles at the sleepy and sated look on your face as you blink slowly at him.

“My lil’ puppy’s all tuckered out, huh? Let’s get you up to bed, darlin’, Daddy’ll tuck you in.”

He stands up with a groan, cradling you in his muscled arms, and carries you into the bedroom. You’re already drifting off to sleep when he sits you on the bed, carefully stripping you of your ruined underwear and helping you into a clean, sensible pair of cotton undies. He retrieves one of his oversized “Miller Contracting” shirts from his drawer and slips it over your head, helping your weak arms through the sleeves. Brushing your hair away from your face, he places a scruffy kiss to your hairline and helps you lay down onto the cool sheets. He pulls the covers up all the way over your shoulders, the way he knows you like, and smiles to himself when you burrow yourself into the sheets.

He takes a quick shower to rid himself of the grime and grit he collected on his skin during the day, and slips into bed beside you. Another private smile and a small shake of his head when you instinctually turn to face him and snuggle into his warm body, wrapping your arms around the breadth of his upper arm and inhaling the masculine cologne of his body wash.

He reaches across his chest to gently scratch at the top of your head, prompting a dreamy little noise from you. “Just like I said,” he whispers to himself, “a lil’ puppy.”

He wouldn’t have you any other way.

not really sure who to tag for this one, gonna use the same list from my last fic if that's okay!! anyone else please let me know if you'd like to be tagged on my future fics!!

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @gracieispunk @iamasaddie @rebel-held

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #daddy!joel miller #joel miller smut

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