#and he was such a good sport and he told his opponents that he was lucky to win against them

[leaderwonim]

LET THE BEST PLAYER WIN.

pairing: tennisplayer!sunghoon x film major!fem!reader

summary: everybody knew park sunghoon, the tennis player at harvard that was most likely going to go pro as soon as he graduated. determined to get closer to him to gather videos for her final, film student nishimura yn tries to find out more about the infamous tennis player everybody seemed to talk about.

warnings: mentions of excessive drinking and smoking (please don’t do any, your bodies are precious 🙏), they’re both lowk bad people LOL, nonconsensual filming (not sexually)

“Whoa there,” you say, camera loosely hanging around your neck as you watch Park Sunghoon slam his racket on the floor till the strings popped out.

“What?!” He screamed, eyes practically bulging out of their sockets. He takes a deep breath, realizing that he has too much of a reputation to lose it over too little of frustration.

“Hey, don’t mind me.” You lift your hands in surrender, “just gotta film something for my final, you know.”

“Film major?” Sunghoon scoffs, throwing his now broken racket to the side as he shuffles through his gym bag for another. “Funny.”

“Very funny,” you shrug. “When I get into a big studio and start making films that blows up Hollywood, Park.”

“I’m just saying,” Sunghoon doesn’t look at you, instead focusing on his footwork. “You got into Harvard and you’re doing film?”

“You got into Harvard by doing tennis.” You snark back. “I think we’re on the same page.”

Sunghoon laughs, and it’s the first time you’ve ever heard such thing from the boy. The only things you do hear is his groans of frustration and grunts as he hits the ball back and forth.

“Not bad,” he compliments you, finally deciding to turn over. “Want to get beer tonight?”

“I thought athletes don’t drink?” You sit up straight from your previous position on one of the plastic chairs placed near the players that oversaw the whole tennis court.

“Pft, which liar told you that?” Sunghoon packs away his things, and despite having played for 3 hours, he still looks as good as ever. “How do you think I keep sane in tennis? Medication? Fuck no.”

For the first time, you see a glint in Sunghoon’s eyes, one that wasn’t the competitive glint he wore like a blood sucking cheetah every tournament.

By the end of the night, you realize that Park Sunghoon can really drink.

He’s downed 6 shots already, but his face is still as bright as ever. In fact, he asks for three more.

“The adrenaline is similar to playing tennis.” He says with his oh so cheeky smile.

As soon as the server passes Sunghoon his drinks, he wraps one arm around your shoulder, cheering, “to Nishimura Y/N, the film major at Harvard!”

You laugh, pointing your camera at his smiling face. He’s too drunk to notice you recording, swaying you side to side as the alcohol consumes his living thoughts.

🎾 ⊹ ‧

You’re pleasantly surprised when Park Sunghoon invites you to one of his matches. It’s not a state competition—but it’s his competition that he invited you to nonetheless.

Your eyes rush back and forth from Sunghoon to his opponent, the ball stroke faster and faster until your head starts hurting from cranking too close. It was a match against Stanford, Sunghoon was playing against a girl named Kelsley Aptos, who was stunning enough to make your film pop.

You cracked your neck before taking out your camera, recording the two competing. As soon as Kelsley misses the ball, you stop filming, standing up to applaud Sunghoon.

The girl isn’t happy, in fact, she’s almost furious with the way her lip twitches. But she does as any good sport would do, shake Sunghoon’s hand and tell him good game.

“I like your skirt,” Sunghoon tells her, licking his lips which were now dry from all the playing. “It’s pretty.”

“Well thanks Park,” she replies. “I like your stance.”

You’ll never understand the way athletes compliment each other—and hell you probably never will since you’ve practically signed your life to the film industry.

He grins, then makes his way to you. “You see how I beat Aptos? She was great, stunning.”

You don’t know why your stomach churns at the way he describes her. Was it jealousy? It couldn’t be; you barely knew Sunghoon, so why the hell were you genuinely upset over him calling Kelsley Aptos stunning?

“C’mon,” he draws you to his side, way too close for two people who’ve only gotten to know each other in the span of two days. “I believe we have to celebrate with drinks.”

🎾 ⊹ ‧

If there’s one thing about Park Sunghoon that you’re utterly confused by is his lack of self control.

On the court, he’s insane, unbeatable, practically a God in the world of tennis. But after tennis, after the matches, he’s chugging down as many alcoholic beverages as he can take, which is far too many a person—much less a college athlete—should inhale.

Sunghoon liked it though. He liked the way the liquor burned as it went down his throat, he liked the way it cooled in his body and how lightheaded he felt everytime he’d drink. When he wasn’t drinking, he was smoking.

You two were perched on lawn chairs, on opposite ends of each other. The chairs oversaw the beach near Harvard, and you could hear the whoosh of the waves as it drew closer.

“Your coach would kill you,” you said, grinning as you watched him inhale the cigarette. He’s not sober, clearly, but his stamina is good enough that he could make out his surroundings and conversations.

“He totally would.”

You perch your camera up on your knee, secretly recording Sunghoon as he leaned his head against the chair. Although he claims he’s so out of it, he looks so beautiful.

“Will you teach me tennis one day, Park?”

He lifts his head up slightly, eyes making direct contact with yours. “Will you teach me film?”

You nod, and he does too.

“Then it’s a deal Nishimura.”

🎾 ⊹ ‧

Sunghoon is a bad influence.

You can tell now that you’ve known him for a month and by the way he drags you into parties, your little camera still dangling around your neck like it was engraved there.

“You know what they would say if they saw Harvard’s precious athlete partying his ass off on a Wednesday night?” Sunghoon yells over the music.

“What?” You yell back.

“How preposterous!”

The two of you giggle loudly at that, bodies so close to each other that it looks like you’re making out to anyone who wasn’t closely paying attention.

“Hey Y/N,” he says, and as you look up, his eyes are already meeting yours. “I like you a lot.”

You smile at that, letting Sunghoon lean in and kiss you right there and then.

It just felt right. So right. Like a missing piece of a puzzle was finally discovered.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

🎾 ⊹ ‧

It feels like you’re discovering a new piece of Park Sunghoon everyday as you get to know more of him.

He was no longer Harvard star tennis player Park Sunghoon, but your boyfriend Park Sunghoon.

It felt weird, but giddy. Girls who had thrown themselves on him before backed off with fury, wondering why a random film student of all people got with their beloved athlete.

You don’t mind that Sunghoon loves tennis, you really don’t. You know he wants to go pro, it’s all he’s ever talked about on your dates and calls.

“I’m gonna make it to the Olympics.” He says. “You’ll see.”

“I’m sure I will Hoonie.”

What you do mind is the fact that Sunghoon loves tennis too much. His fixation with the sport concerns you, but that’s just what happens when you’ve been playing since you were 3, isn’t it? The sport becomes one with you.

“Park Sunghoon! How was your match?” The interviewer asks, shoving his microphone into Sunghoon’s face.

“Oh it was great man, lovely weather.”

“Mhm, a great warm glow over Boston today! Have you always loved tennis this much?”

“Yes, honestly, tennis is my number one. It’s the reason I breathe and live today.”

He doesn’t mention anything about you when asked about what he loved. He never did. It was always the same thing.

Tennis, tennis, tennis.

If you hadn’t seen the red flags that were ringing before, you clearly were now.

“Are you seriously upset I didn’t mention you in my interview?” Sunghoon asks, biting into his apple angrily.

“Yes! It’d be nice for you to mention me once in your interview but you never do! It’s always the same bullshit Hoon!”

“I love tennis, why can’t I talk about it? It’s what the people want! They watch me for tennis, they don’t watch me for some stupid relationship.”

“Oh, so this is relationship is stupid to you now?”

“You’re twisting my words and you fucking know it.”

You and Sunghoon haven’t talked in over a week. All because you had practically begged him just to talk about you once. Was it so hard for him to show appreciation to his own girlfriend?

It didn’t help when you went to try and visit him on the court, practicing what you were going to say. He was already too engrossed in his conversation with Kelsley Aptos, their proximity dangerously close.

Fine. You think. If Park Sunghoon wants to play this way, we can fucking play it this way.

The next thing you knew, the headlines were filled with PARK SUNGHOON, HARVARD STAR ATHLETE CAUGHT EXCESSIVELY DRINKING AND SMOKING, blaring all over Boston, with the clips from your camera being right on the front page.

[doitforbangchan]

Cross My Heart- Kim Hongjoong

Masterlist

did i spend my time writing this instead of working on Abanb? yes yes i did. But ive had brainrot for Joong and needed to get this out sooo..please enjoy :)

ps- this fic may be triggering for some so please see the warnings!

Brothers best friend! Hongjoong x reader (afab)

Warnings: Afab/fem reader, smut, unprotected p in v, cream pies, dubcon/noncon, fingering, drinking, drink spiking, drunk reader, coercion, cursing, kissing, dom!hongjoong, inexperienced (not virgin)! Reader, pet names, crying, name calling, possesive! Hongjoong, Hongjoong is a bad person, and probably more. Not proofread :)

WC: 4.5k

Hongjoong looked good tonight. Too good. Sinfully good. He was wearing dark black jeans and an equally dark ripped tank that accentuated his slender waist perfectly. He sported his normal rings and chains, adding a few more for the occasion. Hongjoongs hair was platinum blonde- he seemed to have gotten it done within the last few months since you’ve seen him. If you had less self control you’d be drooling. 

For the last decade of your life you’ve had the biggest crush on Hongjoong. The way he carries himself always captivated you. From the swag in his walk to the charm in his smirk. He made you weak in the knees. Not to mention he was respectful and kind to everyone- especially to you. Though you would never dream of acting on your feelings for the man for one reason and one reason only.  

He was your brother's best friend. 

And your brother, Seonghwa, had made it very clear to you his best friend was off limits. 

You had expected him to be here. You knew he wouldn’t let Hwa down, especially when your brother was celebrating the biggest accomplishment of his life- his college graduation. Still; even though you knew he would be here in your home seeing him in person did nothing to slow the rapid beating of your heart in your chest. There was something so docile and charming about him that you couldn’t let go of. Maybe it was the way he leaned into you when he told you a secret. Or maybe it was the way he always made you feel included even when your brother didn’t want you around. 

The party was in full swing; your family home flooded with people all here to celebrate your brother. Some were people you knew, others were friends of your brother. Your parents were gracious enough to let him throw this ‘gathering’ while they were away for the weekend. You were both fully grown adults and they knew you could be trusted. 

From your spot across the room you could see your brother and Hongjoong playing beer pong. More like Joong playing beer pong while your brother swayed and missed every shot. It was only 11pm and your brother was already trashed, his pregaming taking more of a toll on him than he anticipated. 

You watched as a ball from the opponents sunk into the very last cup in their team, Hongjoog throwing his head back in frustration as the other team cheered for their victory. He must have sensed your eyes on him because suddenly he turned his head and made direct eye contact with you. He offered you a gentle smile and a small wave that you returned. Then he lifted the last solo cup of beer up as if cheersing you, and he tilted his head and downed the liquid. 

Pushing off the wall, you made your way into the kitchen to grab a drink. You didn’t plan on drinking tonight. You wanted to stay coherent so you could make sure nothing bad happened to your parents home, so you only grabbed a cup full of soda. 

Once you had your cup full you turned around from the counter but you were met with a hard surface. You almost lost balance but suddenly you were steadied by strong hands. 

“Careful there, Y/n. You almost dropped your drink.” 

You could feel your face burning as you looked to see the playful twinkle in the gorgeous eyes of Hongjoong. “Oh, t-thank you Joong.” Fuck you can’t belive you stuttered. You’ve known this guy for almost half your life, get a fucking grip. 

“No problem.” He let you go and you felt your breath return to you. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you in a while.” He didn’t have a drink in his hand so he reached around you and grabbed a bottle of tequila and a sprite. 

“I’ve been good, just working a lot to pay off my school debt. Ya know, same ole same ole.” You shrugged and sipped your drink.

He nodded, “Yeah me too. Things at the studio have kept me pretty busy.” Hongjoong graduated a year ago and immediately got a job in music production. He was so young and already living his dream. You admired him for it. You watched as he poured himself a shot and poured a second one. “You like tequila?” 

You shook your head, “Normally yes, but not tonight. Thank you though.” 

He gave you a pouty lip “Aw come on, not even one to celebrate?” He was already pushing it towards you as he lifted his own. 

You tilted your head side to side in contemplation before giving in with a small nod. “Ok, only one.” He used his fingers to cross his heart dramatically which made you giggle. He gave you that charming smile of his while he handed you your shot. You clinked shot glasses and both of you downed the liquor. 

You cringed as you felt the burn of the alcohol go down your throat, and you immediately had to chase it down with a sip of your soda. You mentally cursed whoever bought this cheap tequila (knowing it was you). 

Hongjoong patted your shoulder as you put your glass back down, laughing in jest at your disgusted face. “Yeah it’s pretty terrible.”  You were a known lightweight and you could feel the effects of the liquor already but you held yourself together well. Or so you thought. 

Faintly from the living room you could hear your favorite song playing. You gasped in realization, your tipsy brain getting excited. “My song is on!” 

Hongjoong chuckled and reached for your hand. “Let’s go then.” 

You ignored the fluttering in your stomach when he grabbed your hand, and looked at him confused. “Go where?” 

“To dance? This is your favorite song, isn’t it?” He said it like it was the most basic answer in the world, still giving you that playful yet dashing smile of his. 

“Oh.. I don’t know…” Your mind immediately went to your brother and how upset he would be if he found you dancing with Joong. You went to pull your hand back but he held on gently. “Hwa might be upset..” 

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Doll, I don’t think he’s in his right mind to be upset about anything.” He nodded towards where he could see Seonghwa leaning against the wall, attempting to flirt with a pretty girl he graduated with.  “Plus it’s just a dance. Nothing nefarious.” 

You found yourself slowly nodding in agreement, one little dance couldn’t hurt. Right? 

“Alright, just one.” You held up a single finger. He crossed his heart once again, then laced your fingers together.

You went to walk away but he stopped you. “Don’t forget your drink. You don’t want some weirdo spiking it or something.” You nodded as you grabbed your cup then allowed him to pull you into the living room. 

---------------------------

One dance turned into two, then three. You don’t know why but you could feel your inhibitions leave you the more you danced and by the time you finished your drink. By dance number three you could tell something was up. You were abnormally drunk for only taking one shot. The pumping music and the crowds of partygoers only added to it. 

Hongjoong was being respectful, keeping his hands on your waist or your hands and spinning you around. He didn’t try to kiss you or hold you too tight even when you grabbed him to balance yourself  during the current slow song. 

“You doing alright, sweetheart?” He asked in a low tone, concern for you lacing his voice. 

“I don’ know wha’s wrong wif me..” Your words were slightly slurred. You could hear the drunkenness in your voice and it made you embarrassed. It was then it occurred to you the situation you still found yourself in. Pressed up against Hongjoong. Your crush- who was off limits. You pushed yourself away from him hastily, making him bristle when you almost fell. “I gotta go.” 

“Wait a sec, doll, what’s wron-” 

“What is goin on over here?” It was Seonghwa who interrupted Hongjoongs question. Somehow he had managed to drunkenly stagger into the living room without either of you knowing. He too leaned on Hongjoong for support. His hazy gaze settled on you, “Y/n are you ok?” 

You started to nod but it turned into you shaking your head ‘no’. “Hwa..” 

“I think she had a little too much to drink.” Hongjoong said, trying to hold both of you up but making it look effortless. 

Your brother hummed, narrowing his glossed over eyes at you. Then he sighed, “Looks like I’ll have to take care of her. Time for bed.” He went to grab your arm but he almost lost his balance, being more drunk than he appeared (which was already very drunk). Hongjoong didn’t miss the way Seonghwa muttered under his breath about you being a nuisance. 

You wanted to protest but Hongjoong cut you off. “I can take her up to her room. You should enjoy your party.” He pointed behind Hwa, “Plus there's a pretty little minx giving you eyes over there.” 

Seonghwa snapped his neck around to see the girl from earlier, giving him a wave of her fingers and a wink. He turned back to Hongjoong, “You’ll make sure she gets to bed?” Hongjoong made a cross over his heart. “Damn you really are my best friend. Thanks man, I owe you one.” And with that, the boy slinked off back to his new conquest. 

Hongjoong chuckled at the actions of his best friend, then turned his attention back to you. With no warning he scooped you up into his arms. You shrieked as you were suddenly lifted from the ground. “Waahhhhh!” 

“Calm down, doll. I’m taking you to bed.” He soothed you, walking through the crowds. He ignored the hoots and hollers people tossed at you both, only smirking in response. Joong stepped over a few wasted people who sat on the stairs. If you had your wits about you you would have swooned over how strong he is. 

Thankfully there was no one else trying to suck face- or worse- in your room, so he was able to set you down with no delay. You faintly recognized the minute sound of the lock on your door being turned, but you chalked it up to residuals from the music that blared downstairs. 

You relaxed into your sheets, happy to be back in your own comforting space. You shut your eyes and sighed. For a moment it was quiet and you had forgotten about the guest who was still in your room with you. 

That is, until you felt his lithe fingers trail up your thigh. Your eyes snapped open as you took in the scene in front of you. Hongjoong had somehow crawled onto your bed without you noticing and had taken his shirt off. 

“J-joong? Wha are you doing?” 

“Shhh, it’s alright, doll.” His usually soothing voice had a light bite to it that made you shiver and his eyes had a fire behind them you’ve never seen before. “M’ just taking care of you like I promised your brother I would.” His touches traveled even further up your thigh, getting closer to slipping under your skirt. 

“Joong I-I don’t think Hwa would like this..” You tried to protest and scoot up your bed but he put his weight down on you, holding you in place. His masculine cologne was making you even dizzier. 

By now his hand was on the cusp of touching your panties, the tip of his finger itching to get that centimeter closer to your core. 

“I’m not in Hwas bed, now am I?” He was almost condescending with the way he spoke to you. It was alarming as he had never once spoken to you like this before. “Aren’t you an adult? Or do you need your older brother's permission for everything?” 

“I don’t need his permission to do anything!” You protested, your voice coming out louder than intended. 

He snorted and sat up again, appearing disappointed. “Nah, I get it. I just thought you liked me, is all. I guess I was wrong.” He turned as if he was about to leave.

Your hand shot out and grabbed his shoulder before he could get off the bed. “No wait! I do like you Hongjoong! I like you so much!” 

He concealed his smirk with a sigh, “Doesn’t seem like it, doll. Seems to me you don’t want me, when all I wanna do is make you feel good.” His words reached deep into your drunken heart, making tears spring to your lashes. 

“No I do, I swear! Please Joongie, don’t be upset with me. M’ sorry!”You got out through your sniffles. You tried again to pull him back to you and thankfully he let you this time. “I do like you, I always have.” 

“Aww don’t cry sweetheart, you’re too pretty for tears.” He cooed and wiped the liquid from your cheeks. For some reason that made you cry even harder, your hold on him tightening even more. “ Gonna be good for me now, doll?” You nodded rapidly, wanting him to be happy with you again. “Thata girl.” 

After another wipe at your cheeks he used that same hand to tilt your face up to his, you held your breath as his eyes flickered down to your lips then back to your eyes. With no more hesitation he crashed your lips together. It was not soft and delicate like you had imagined he would kiss. Instead his mouth was punishing- a dangerous mix of teeth and tongue. He bit at your lip harshly, making you whimper from the pain. 

His hand that was not on your face slithered back down to your center, where this time he touched your most intimate area, running over your panties and to your clit. The contact made you jump and gasp; you weren’t used to being touched this intimately. You weren’t a virgin, but your experience was lackinging for the most part.  And doing this right now with Hongjoong- your brother's best friend- made you feel filthy. But that fact also made you start to get wetter than you ever had before.

Your own hands wrapped around his wrist in an attempt to stop him, but he never slowed or stopped. “Joongie.. We can’t do this.. It’s wrong…”His rubbing on your clit got even more intense as you spoke, his frustration with you coming through, and the pleasure was beginning to become painful. “Ow, y-your hurting me.” 

He turned your head forcefully and ran the thick of his tongue along your cheek, making you shiver, until his lips reached your ear. With a breathy growl he chuckled in your ear. “If you behave and let me play then it won’t hurt. I can feel how wet you are through these flimsy panties, I know you like it. Dirty slut.” 

You yelped when he delivered a punishing smack to your core, “Hongjoong!” 

“Don’t act like you don’t like it, Doll.” He started nipping and sucking at your neck and your grip on him tightened. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. The way you drool like a dog over me whenever I come around. You always act so innocent and shy, as if you haven’t been eye fucking me for years, makes me so fucking hard.” 

You couldn’t even breathe let alone move, the lust and terror combined were making you stiff and compliant. You could not believe Hongjoong, the sweetest and kindest man you had ever met - the boy you were raised around- your Joongie; was doing this dastardly act to you. You couldn’t decide if you loved this side of him or hated it. 

There was a part of your brain that was happy to have any part of him you could get so you decided not to fight him anymore. His kisses and touches turned sweeter the more you relaxed, he hummed in satisfaction when your hands released his wrist. 

“There's my sweet girl. You know Joongie will take care of you, yeah?” His tone was smug and you knew he would have a smirk on his face. “I’ll make you feel so good. Cross my heart, doll.” He took your small nod as permission to continue. 

His nimble fingers went to the waistband of your thong and he roughly pulled it down and exposed your now dripping pussy to his view. With no warning he rammed a finger into your hole, making your back arch as he started pumping it in and out of you. “S-shit, Joongie!” 

“You like my fingers inside you? I know you do, your pussy is leaking all over my hand.” He slipped another finger in, now using two and curling the tips until he found the spongy spot inside of you. You moaned lewdly at the sensation, eyes wide in shock. “Oooo I think I found your g-spot. I bet no one has ever touched that special little spot huh sweetheart?” 

You shook your head rapidly, but your lack of verbal response caused him to tut at you then swiftly withdraw from your pussy and deliver another stinging slap to your folds. “N-no one but you Joongie! Only you!” 

He purred and sucked a devilish mark on your neck, “Mmm I like the sound of that. Only me. The way it should be.”

 Both your heart and your core fluttered as he said it. It gave you hope that just maybe he felt the same way about you that you felt for him. Little did you know he always had. 

 He sat up and pulled back from you completely, looking down at you with those demeaning eyes of his. He almost groaned out loud at how fucked out you already looked and he had barely touched you yet. Hongjoong had wanted you for years. He was usually a patient man, but after the years of watching you prance around in little skirts and seeing the ways other guys looked at you, his patience had worn thin. And since you were too caught up in the fact that he was your brother's best friend he knew he had to be the one to take initiative. Thank god you didn’t taste the copious amount of liquor in your drink cup earlier… 

“You’re so beautiful, baby, all spread out and glassy eyed. Mmm I could just eat you up.” He sucked on the fingers that had previously been in you, both of you whining at the lewd act. “Fuck, so tasty too. Gonna have to feast on this pussy, baby.” You clenched your thighs at the thought of him eating you out, making him chuckle darkly. “Seems like my little whore wants that. Too bad, that’ll have to be on the agenda for later. I need you now.” 

He deftly undid his belt which brought your attention to the bulge in the pants. As he pushed down the fabric of both his pants and underwear you were left in shock. 

Holy shit he was HUGE 

You weren’t sure how that was supposed to fit inside you. Apparently Hongjoong could see your trepidation because he smirked and held in a laugh at your wide eyes. “I’ll make it fit sweetheart, don’t worry.” 

When he leaned down over you, caging you in, is when the severity really hit you. Your hands went to his chest as you tried to push him off but he was stronger than you, using his weight to hold you down. “Wait, Joong I-” 

“I’m done waiting. You’ve been teasing me for years, I’m not gonna let you get away with it again. Hold still.” He all but snarled at you as he lined up his tip to your weeping entrance. He ignored your further pleas for him to wait, dragging the thick tip of his member through your slick before he slowly pushed into you. 

You wailed as you felt him impale you. “NNNGGGHHH!” Your arms threw themselves over Hongjoongs shoulders and your nails embedded in his skin so harshly he knew he would have marks for days to come. 

“Holy shit, how are you so fucking tight?” He sounded so desperate already, his need getting the better of him.”You gotta relax for me babe, you might snap my dick off.” 

Thankfully he gave you a moment to adjust; he knew he was big and he truly didn’t want to hurt you. You took deep breaths and tried to relax. You could feel your walls pulsing around the thick intrusion. Hongjoong was slathering your neck with sloppy kisses in an attempt to distract you from the discomfort. It was the sweetness you craved from him and you could feel yourself loosening up. 

Soon enough your body was pliable enough for him to move. “Good girl.” He praised as he started to move, his hips gyrating to create friction that made both of you moan. You practically purred at his praise and your pelvis subconsciously bucked up into his. “Mm you like when I call you my good girl, don’t you?” He licked at the skin under your ear and nipped there. 

You nodded and tried to answer but the full feeling of him was making it hard for your brain to catch up. “Mhmm” 

He smiled against you and then fully lifted his pelvis until the tip was barely inside, then shoved himself in all at once, bottoming out in one fail swoop. Your eyes screwed shut and your legs automatically wrapped around his waist in an attempt to hold him too you. Though, your efforts were in vain and Hongjoong began to pound into you over and over. 

The glide of him inside of you was otherworldly. This was both the best experience of your life and the worst. On one hand you were so happy to have the man of your dreams here in your bed, making you feel such intense pleasure. On the other hand… 

Something felt so wrong. 

More like something about him felt wrong. The Hongjoong you knew had never been so dominating - demanding- or abrasive. It was thrilling to say the least. 

“You look so good under me, you dirty whore.” 

You whined at the name, feeling ashamed at the gush of arousal that came from you at his malicious words. “M’ your whore Joongie. Only yours.” 

There was a hiccup in his movements then he was back on beat but this time with even more force. “I like the sound of that. My whore. This pussy is alllll for me, isn’t it?” You nodded and squeezed his shoulders. “No other man will ever touch this perfect pussy ever again. I’ll ruin you enough that no one will even think about touching what’s mine.” 

“Yours! M’ yours!” 

He chuckled and let one of his hands snake down to wear your bodies met, “You are mine. And I take care of things that belong to me.” His agile fingers found your clit with ease and he started to rub the nub with quick, lively movements. 

Your back arched further, pushing your still clothed chest into his bare one. “F-fuck.” You were getting so close, your tipsy state made your high build quicker than ever before; though it could also have something to do with the exact man causing your pleasure. “Joongie..” 

The man could feel you clench down on him and he knew that was a sign you were about to cum. “Go ahead and cum for me. Let me see how fucking gorgeous you look when you cum all over my cock.” 

With his permission you let go. You cried loudly as you crashed over the precipice, your head thrown back and your thighs shaking in ecstasy. Thank god the music was still blaring downstairs or every person in this house would have heard you. 

He groaned at the sight of you trembling and crying below him and felt that he wasn’t going to be far behind. Joong leaned back on his haunches and yanked your hips up onto his lap all while never exiting your center. He wanted to feel you clench like that again; he knew it would throw him right over the edge. 

Before you even finished quivering he took his other hand that wasn’t on your clit, and shoved two of his fingers inside you along with his cock. Now you have truly never felt so damn full in your life. It was almost too much for you to handle. He also sped up the messaging on your clit, the combination sending you jolting into another orgasm. 

“HONGJOONG OH MY GOD” You screamed as the most intense orgasm you’ve ever felt hit you like a freight train. You could hear a splashing sound and a sudden flooding of wetness all over your inner thighs. 

“Holy shit, you’re fucking squirting! Fuck, that is so fucking hot.” He couldn’t hold it in any longer, with a final hard thrust that felt like it hit your cervix he finally came inside of you. His hot cum coated your inner walls- it was so hot you compared it to getting a brand. Perhaps in his own twisted way that’s what he had done. Branded you as his. 

He let himself fall back onto you as he crashed his lips into your own; both wet with drool. When he pulled away from you, you were both panting. Hongjoong wiped away the remaining tears from your face, stroking your cheeks and looking down at you with the most loving look anyone has ever given you. Your heart was melting and you leaned up and gave him another sweet peck on his lips. 

He accepted your kiss then gave you a few of his own, first on your lips then all over your face, making you giggle. 

He sighed wistfully and flopped down beside you, pulling you up into his arms. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” You hummed, curling yourself into him. “I’m so happy you're finally mine.” He pressed another kiss to your head. You both could still feel and hear the vibrations from the loud party. You vaguely wondered if anyone had any clue of the debauchery that had taken place up here. Then another quick thought ran through your head and it made your heart stop.

Hongjoong hadn’t used a condom… 

And you were not on birth control. 

Hongjoongs wandering fingers found your overly sensitive center once again and he deftly pushed the leaking cum back into you. 

“And I always treat what's mine the way they deserve. Cross my heart.”

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

©doitforbangchan

[hvly]

— ⋆｡˚｡⋆ ｡˚ 𓆩𖥔𓆪 ˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆ —

wrestler!yuuji who doesn't fit your typical wrestler's description. most of the guys on your school's team are big, burly, and quite mean. their faces fixed in a constant scowl, shoulders squared in case anyone dares to step a little too close to them while they're walking by. then there was yuuji. bright pink hair, a constant smile on his face, and a happy-go-lucky personality that could draw anyone in. his cheery disposition was a definite plus to the team's overall school presence. in the past, they'd be lucky to have one section of the bleachers filled. now, the stands seemed to be overflowing with support at every match. even if most in attendance were just fangirls coming to see yuuji in action, it could hardly be seen as a negative.

wrestler!yuuji who wasn't all too interested in the sport at first, but caved after the wrestling coach's 15th attempt at recruiting him. "you've got talent ! and we could use someone like you on our team !" he was used to various sports' coaches coming up to him, talking about how his athleticism would be a great addition to their respective teams. but wrestling was different because he could put his background in martial arts to use in certain cases. with the promise to use and build on what he already knows, it was a pretty easy sale. after a few mock matches, he slowly comes to enjoy wrestling and realises he's not too bad at it.

wrestler!yuuji who's almost an entirely different person on the mat. when he was in his starting position, he looked at his opponent with a fiery determination to win. he was focused, eyes narrowed as he rocked in his crouched position, waiting for the referee's whistle to start. it was almost impressive how quickly yuuji could take down his opponent. you only caught a glimpse of his pink hair and the next thing you knew, he was being awarded a point and being told to reset. even when yuuji was on the defensive, it wasn't for too long. with a flip, a hook, and a roll he was back on the offensive and securing yet another point that would aid in his inevitable victory.

wrestler!yuuji who's so humble whether he wins or loses. he doesn't gloat or showboat, helping his opponent up off the mat with a solid, genuine smile and "good match" handshake. he jogs off the mat right up to the stands, where you're sitting front and center. he's sweaty and panting, hair and singlet clinging to his body alike. he pulls out his mouth guard and lets it dangle from his headgear, a wide toothy smile on his face. "So? I'm pretty good at this wrestling thing, huh?" You nod in agreement, sweeping peak strands from his forehead. "Yeah. And you don't look too bad in that leotard either." He scoffs, pulling the straps of his uniform before letting them go with a snap. "It's called a singlet," he replies. His coach calls for him in the distance, signaling it's time for him to head back with the team. He starts to make his way back before abruptly stopping and swiveling on his heels. "Hey, head over to my place. We should celebrate my win tonight," he says, giving you a wink before trotting off across the gym. You feel a mess of butterflies form in your stomach as you watch him reconvene with his fellow wrestlers. You had a feeling he was going to show you his moves weren't just for the wrestling mat.

— ⋆｡˚｡⋆ ｡˚ 𓆩𖥔𓆪 ˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆ —

© 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 hvly 2024. 𝘋𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘧y.

[nadvs]

What if Rafe and his friends goes to a party at her college and a fight happens 😄

Maybe its after a game and Max is jealous because he sees them flirting at the game and then he sees them at the party. Maybe he says something to her and Rafe cant hold back.

omg i LOVE this. protective rafe throwing punches always gets me 👀

based on this fic

» au masterlist

the first time she invites rafe to a party on her campus, especially after he just won a game against her college’s team, he doesn’t even have to think about it. it’s an automatic yes.

but because it’s rafe, he’s casual in his response, giving her a simple, “sure. text me the address.”

he brings a couple of his teammates to the loud frat house, loving the fact that he’s getting dirty looks from some people.

they recognize him as the guy who mercilessly antagonizes his opponents on the court. and if there’s anything rafe likes more than being known for how good he is at his sport, it’s being feared.

when he sees her, rafe approaches her and ducks to kiss her cheek.

he can see that idiot max hammond’s eyes on them. he noticed him scowling at them when rafe was chatting with her after the game. she recently told rafe how just a few days ago, her ex switched up from begging her for a second chance to shit-talking her to school’s team and cheerleaders.

in small, almost imperceptible moments, he’s seen the frustration flash on her face whenever she mentions how max has affected her reputation.

so, his hand slides down her hip and grabs her ass, making her laugh against his chest.

“you know your asshole ex is still hung up on you, right?” he murmurs in her ear over the music. “fuckin’ staring daggers.”

“is that why you’re grabbing my ass?” she says with a smirk.

“that’s part of it.”

she laughs again and shifts to take his hand.

“i’ll take you to the keg,” she says.

he follows her as she walks deeper into the crowded house, her fingers linked around his.

it’s odd how much comfort rafe simply being here brings her. she didn’t think the person to make her feel better after a messy break-up would be a common enemy, the guy known for playing dirty and shouting insults on the court, but she’ll take it.

this thing with rafe did sort of start as a revenge plot, but she stopped caring about that before she even walked out of the bar the night she first spoke with him.

as they fill up their solo cups, she sees max in her peripheral vision. he’s getting closer. and he’s clearly drunk.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” max mutters.

rafe turns, looking down at him. he’s got a few inches on him and he loves to show it.

“celebrating,” rafe replies with a self-assured smile. “we won. did you forget?”

“you can celebrate somewhere else,” he says.

“give it a rest, max,” she sighs.

“nobody’s talking to you,” he says.

“really,” rafe says, his smile disappearing. “you were pretty fucking desperate to talk to her a few days ago, weren’t you?”

max is clearly embarrassed. she’s satisfied.

“that’s none of your business,” max mutters. he looks over at her. “what kind of bullshit have you been spreading?”

“me?” she laughs. “you’re embarrassing yourself. just leave us alone.”

max’s jaw hardens in frustration. she could tell he had quite a few drinks, but when he says his next words, she realizes just how out of his mind drunk he is.

“why are you being such a bitch about this?” he mutters.

within a second, rafe throws a punch, his fist colliding with max’s cheek. the crowd splits in mania. rafe lands another punch. then another.

max lunges low to tackle rafe onto the floor. max’s friends jump in. then, so do rafe’s.

she’s overwhelmed. in shock. frozen. she watches in disbelief. thankfully, a few guys pull them apart.

she’s been at this house before and knows the layout, so when she grips rafe’s bicep, she pulls him towards the door past the kitchen, leading into the backyard away from the chaos.

rafe is heaving, spitting out blood onto the grass. the music is muffled once the door shuts behind them.

“piece of shit,” he mutters. “he’s fucking lucky they pulled me off of him.”

she stares at him with wide eyes. she’s never felt this way with any man before. protected. safe.

so, she gives into her adrenaline-fuelled impulse and hugs him. his chest rises and falls quickly against her cheek. she can feel his pounding heartbeat.

“nobody’s stood up for me like that before,” she admits. “thanks.”

rafe doesn’t say anything for a moment. his reaction wasn’t solely out of hatred of max. it was because he genuinely likes her as a person. and someone upsetting her pisses him off to a ridiculous level.

finally, he places a firm hand on her shoulder. they’ve hooked up countless times now, but this sort of gesture feels out of their element.

“sure,” he says tensely.

she steps back, her eyes on the ground.

“there’s another party down the block if you want to go there instead,” she says.

“alright,” rafe replies.

“hopefully nobody calls me a bitch there.”

his lips pull into a small smile.

“alright,” he echoes. “let’s go.”

[narcjsistx]

Heyy hope you're doing good. I have a request.

Rindou x gf reader where they're play fighting and he does his joint lock technique on her, without the bone snapping though. And now she wants him to teach her how to do it. You know for 'educational purposes'.

IT'S NOT LIKE ME TO WRITE SOMETHING SO SHORT, I KNOW, BUT I REALLY HAD VERY FEW IDEAS FOR THIS REQUEST 💔💔💔

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

— Just for "protection"

"And with this... I can say that I have finished my work" Rindou says, tightening his grip even more. You laugh at his gesture, but you have to admit that you are more surprised every day by how physically strong your boyfriend actually is

It wasn't the first time that Rindou pinned you on the sofa with the moves he typically used to break the bones of his opponents, in fact, for him, in your opinion it was just a stranger way of having physical contact with you. Today it happened that he blocked you after you hadn't stopped tickle him for about 10 minutes: you knew very well that if he wanted he could stop you immediately, but you appreciated that he made you play with him even in an almost childish way

"Let me go!" you say laughing, and only after leaving a kiss on your forehead does your boyfriend pull away. You're still a little amused by his behavior, however you'd be more than curious to understand how this move actually works "Rin" you say to your boyfriend, who turns around as he puts his glasses back on "What's up doll?" he asks as he approaches

“Did you create this bone-breaking thing?” You ask, crossing your legs. At the beginning of your relationship you both avoided his more violent gang side, but by now you had been together for 3 years and you had gotten used to it. Rindou seems a little surprised by your words “Why do you ask?” the boy asks, and you let out a sigh "Simple curiosity. You've never told me since we've been together" you say even more curious

"Mh... I think it was me. It's very similar to some sport fighting moves, but in those you can't break your enemies bones, but I do it" he says sitting down next to you "I understand. It would be strange if I asked you to teach me how to do it?" you ask, and you see him quite surprised by your request "Why should you learn it? You no longer trust my strength and you want to protect me?" he asks with a hint of sarcasm that makes you giggle "You know very well that I trust your strength! Mine is simple curiosity, plus it could be a nice couple moment!" you say all excited "You know, we have a quite different concept of couple moment, doll... but forget it, come here" he says a little perplexed, but motions for you to sit on the floor with him

You immediately follow him to the floor, where you find him already with his legs stretched out; you imitate him and it makes him giggle "Start with this pose and let's pretend the enemy is coming from... the right" he says with a pedantic manner, and then suddenly stands up fighting with someone invisible. You look at him and you don't understand exactly what he's doing, and your face seems to answer for you as he seems to understand your perplexity "Ok no, the single practice doesn't make you understand the concept well... I think I have to use you as a reference" he says sighing, moving closer. Without you understanding his words, you once again find yourself pinned under him "OH" you exclaim in surprise, feeling his hands rest on your inner thighs. Rindou seems to giggle at the contact, not giving us who knows how much importance "And so you immobilize your enemy" he says remaining above you, with his face a few centimeters from yours. You turn red feeling his grip tighten as his hand travels up to your hip

"I didn't think it was that simple" you say ironically, since in reality he hasn't explained anything to you at all "It's easier to do something else" Rindou says with a look you recognize: you know what he's thinking. His hand moves up to the level of your breast “Oh really, and what?” you ask playing dumb, even though you know he means it "Let me show you, doll" he says with a smirk on his face, before diving for your lips as his hand comes to your tit

[warping-realities]

New Coach

Colton Andrews was worried about his first day as a high school teacher. He knew he shouldn't worry; he had been a diligent student and graduated with honors. One of his professors had even told him at his graduation that he saw in him a natural talent for teaching. Still, facing a bunch of teenagers ready to judge him for any slip-up was a daunting prospect, especially knowing that he was only a few years older than his students, which could lead to some level of disrespect for his authority. In an attempt to differentiate himself from his pupils, Colton dressed in dress pants, a button-down shirt, and a tie, hoping the clothes would give him an air of maturity.

These were idle concerns, for just as his college professor had told him, Colton had a natural talent. The students attentively followed the meticulously dressed young man’s explanations. However, as he spoke about the best way for students to organize their studies for that year, Colton couldn’t help but notice that a handsome blond boy, extremely muscular, followed him with an interest above the ordinary, and he could have sworn that there was a smile playing at the corners of the boy’s mouth.

“Nonsense,” Colton thought to himself and concluded his lecture. However, shortly after releasing the students, the boy approached Colton’s desk, smiling. He had removed his sweatshirt, exposing his impressive arms. Colton admired the boy’s musculature, amazed—how was it possible for a 17-year-old boy to achieve such a size?

“Hey professor, I’m Rod, can we talk for a minute?”

“Rod? Rod? Ahhh, Roderik Thomas?”

“Rod, nobody calls me Roderik except my mother, and only when she’s mad at me.” Besides, Rod is a much more fitting name, if you know what I mean? concluded the boy with a wink.

“So, Roderik? What can I do for you?” Colton asked, pretending not to understand the student’s comment and deciding to maintain the image of authority he was trying to create.

“Rod, sir. I just wanted to say that I’m looking forward to seeing you in the field; all this talk about organization has shown me that you’re going to know how to do a good job.”

“I beg your pardon. Field? I don’t understand.”

“You’re Colton Andrews, aren’t you? Colton Andrews is the name of the new assistant football coach. Coach Colt, funny, haha.”

Colton looked at the young giant in front of him, appalled by the lad’s shallow sense of humor, but mostly because nothing he was saying made the slightest bit of sense.

“Sorry, Roderik, but I’m sure you’re wrong; I’ve never set foot on a football field in my life, and I can assure you I’m not a coach. You are certainly mistaking me for someone else.”

“Rod, coach. And what are the chances that there are two teachers with the exact same name at the same school? You’re a prankster, Coach. Cool, I’m sure you’ll get along great with the guys.”

“I am not a trainer, Roderik,” Colton replied, irritated.

“And I am not a Roderik, coach,” said the young man, a smile on his face as he left the room, ignoring the older man’s irritation.

“What the hell was that?” Colton blurted out now that the room was empty.

…..

Colton spent the rest of the day avoiding thinking about the strange encounter. However, that night, sitting on his sofa with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, absently reading a book, he found himself thinking about the strangeness of the situation. Was this the young man’s idea of a joke? Well, that could be, because Colton wasn’t lying; he had barely watched a few football games on television at home with his father during his childhood, and even he soon gave up trying to pique young Colton’s interest in the game. So the very idea of him walking onto a football field was bizarre; what about training young people for the sport? Absolutely ridiculous!

Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about Roderik’s huge arms. It made a lot of sense that a boy that size would play football. Colton pitied the opponent who got in that kid’s way. Football… it was funny, wasn’t it? The way so many people paid so much attention to a bunch of men fighting each other on a field; it was nothing more than a modern Coliseum. Taking off his glasses and putting the book aside, he followed this train of thought, imagining himself the size of Roderik, being on that modern battlefield, adrenaline coursing through his body, the anticipation of the move, the thud when blocking an opponent, the rumble of his feet on the field, the strength of his powerful muscles… Suddenly, Colton woke from his daydreams, his body feeling tired, as if he had actually done everything he had imagined. Feeling his throat suddenly dry, he headed for the kitchen, thinking of making himself a mug of tea to sip while reading.

Sitting in his kitchen, waiting for the tea to cool before drinking it, Colton again thought about Roderik’s arms, comparing them to his, though it wasn’t a fair comparison. Of course, his toned arms nicely filled out the sleeves of the polo shirt he’d chosen to wear that day; after all, he was no stranger to physical exercise. However, they were far from the gigantic size of his student’s arms. And he didn’t even want arms that big, obviously; imagine the impracticality of having two tree trunks dangling beside his body… yeah, imagine something like that.

….

Still holding the mug with the hot beverage, Colton sat in front of the television, and while he sipped his tea, he randomly switched channels, one after the other, but nothing seemed to hold his attention. Until a sports channel broadcasting a college football game caught his eye. Colton absently followed the heavy bodies bumping into each other, trying to understand the names of the plays and the moves made. Of course, he wasn’t a total novice to the subject; he knew who Patrick Mahomes was and had followed Brock Purdy’s Underdog conquest story with interest the previous year, but the information he had was as basic as it could be. However, he found himself following the match with increasing interest, even cheering and screaming when the team he was rooting for got a play right.

At halftime, Colton stretched, his arms straining at the seams of his T-shirt… dude, he liked that feeling, he thought as he took a swig of his beer. He knew that alcohol on a weekday was not a good idea, but he deserved to celebrate the success of his first day at work, even more so while watching his old college team play. Since he was a little boy, he had been a big fan of the sport, following all the games diligently, even if, to his father’s disappointment, he never showed interest in taking his passion to the field. No, Colton might have been a big guy with hard muscles, but he was still an intellectual by definition, although his relaxed attitude raised some disapproving looks during his college education. But Colton didn’t care about that; he could be an academic and still enjoy sports, working out, and of course, having a drink here and there.

As the game resumed, Colt relaxed even further, sprawled across the couch, but not letting up on play after play, cheering and cursing. Although the sofa was large, Colt suddenly felt confined, as if he had suddenly doubled in size.

“I need to buy a bigger one,” Colt thought. In fact, he couldn’t remember why he’d bought something that didn’t fit him. Colt had always been a big kid, towering over his peers since kindergarten. This, added to an agility not compatible with his size, made him stand out in all types of sports. But football had always been his passion; he would follow the games with his father since before he learned to speak, and when he was old enough, he soon began to practice, going through all the categories of Pop Warner until he reached high school, where he joined the team in his freshman year, assuming the starting position in his sophomore year. Alternating in defensive player positions and due to his size and skill, the joke among his peers was that they were looking at a third Bosa brother. Yet, to everyone’s surprise, Colt went to college not on a sports scholarship, but on academic achievement. He loved football, but there was so much more to life than the game. During college, he faced some difficulties; his professors did not seem to take his aspirations seriously, due to his monstrous size, his language full of slang, and also his partying habits. Even though he was not part of any fraternity, that was the first impression anyone had of him.

“Dickheads. I showed them, didn’t I? I’m a fucking teacher!” Colt thought as he got up to go to the bathroom and take a piss.

“Dude, all that beer had to come out at some point; I’m pissing like a horse, especially with a dick like that… haha,” he said as he swung his huge pole, missing the toilet bowl by a few inches.

“Fuck, tomorrow I’ll clean this up; I can’t miss the end of the game.” Still, he had time to admire himself in front of the bathroom mirror. His broad chest shining with sweat, his gigantic arms were on display, mountain-sized biceps and triceps like a horseshoe. His monstrous legs were hidden by his sweatpants, but if there was anything more that resembled a horse on his body, it would be his huge thighs. Looking at his square face, framed by his blond curls, he remembered his mother telling him that he looked like a little cherub as a baby, but no one today would think of him as angelic. After all, he exuded masculinity from every pore. And small? Never! Colt was big in everything—big feet, big muscles, big dick!

“Fuck, I’m so swole,” he said, staring at the mirror.

Returning to the huge sofa, Colt relaxed in front of the gigantic television in his living room. His powerful muscles comfortably positioned. His huge arms, his greatest pride, laid out at his sides like two big cannons. “Bro, he loved that feeling,” he thought before giving himself completely to the game transmitted in front of him, analyzing each move with the experienced eye of a professional in search of new techniques. After all, that was exactly what he was. Colt had been a promising player in high school, going to college on a full athletic scholarship, with the absolute certainty that only young people possess that he would be a professional player one day. His grades were miserable and his academic performance was poor, but that wasn’t important; he was a machine, a modern gladiator, and one day he would be playing in the great NFL coliseums. His college professors looked down on him and didn’t think he had any teaching skills, but they never said that in front of the behemoth that was Colt.

“A bunch of pussies,” he thought with a sneer. Colt didn’t need the appreciation of a bunch of emasculated old men; he had the football field, he had the crowd, he had his father’s eyes cheering him on every game… and unfortunately, an injury at the end of senior year had kept his biggest dream from coming true. Colt clearly remembered the look of defeat in his father’s eyes when their world had suddenly collapsed. How pleased those academic worms must have been to see Colt’s bright future disappearing. Still, he couldn’t help thinking about the sour faces that bunch of weaklings would make if they knew he was now a teacher too. Not that he cared much about the classes he had to teach. He just accepted the work because through it he managed to get the position of assistant coach of the football team and thus help a new generation to pursue their dreams since he had not been able to. He remembered at that moment the conversation he had with Rod.

“Damn, that kid has what it takes to win,” he thought. Colt had been amazed at how much the boy looked like himself at his age—same blond hair, same giant muscles, those huge arms. If he hadn’t known he wasn’t old enough to father the boy, he would have worried to find out if he had fucked his mother at some point.

“Ha, imagine being a father to a fucking boy, a Mini Colt, teaching him everything, taking him up to the professional ranks.”

After the end of the game and still daydreaming about the future, Colt went to his room. He nearly had to rip his tank top off to get it off. He took the moment to take another look at his body. He was giant, chest formed by two slabs of muscle, abs made of eight defined blocks, monstrous arms, thighs like tree trunks, calves the shape of a giant diamond, and huge size 15 feet, perfect for running on the field. All this accompanied by a square face, with high cheekbones, bright blue eyes, shallow in intellect but full of mischief, framed by his shiny blond curls. Tattooed on his gigantic arms were his varsity team crest and the letters of his fraternity.

After one last admiring glance at his perfect physique, Colt threw himself into the huge king-size bed and slept, dreams of football filling his night.

…..

The next morning, Colt woke up fully energized; today was the day his real work began.

“I’m a fucking football coach,” he crooned in his bovine voice as he picked up his sweatpants off the floor and sniffed one of the T-shirts strewn around the room.

“Fuck, I’m going to have to use this one… Dude, I’m such a pig… Fuck it, I’m going to the field!”

He then took a long shower, jerking off and thinking about the hot math teacher. With water running down his body, he went over the training plans for the day; proper organization was the mark of a good trainer and he would be the best. Even though the whole time he hadn’t stopped playing with his abs like they were guitar strings.

After a breakfast with enough food to feed a baby rhino, he put on his clothes, admired himself again in the mirror, and went to work.

Arriving in the locker room, the first person he found was Rod, with a big smile on his face, showing the dimples that gave a certain cuteness to a face that otherwise exudede masculinity, further accentuating the similarity between the two men. But Colt didn’t mind that; he would hate it if the guys saw him as a boring old man, like his college professors were. After all, he was still one of the guys; respect would come when they saw how awesome Colt was.

“What’s up, Mr. Andrews?” asked the boy with a sly smile.

“What the fuck? Mr. Andrews? Did you eat shit, Rod, my man? I’m no Mister. I’m a fucking coach. You can call me Coach, Coach Colt,” Colt replied with a laugh; that alliteration always got that reaction from him, not that he knew what a fucking alliteration was.

“Sweet, coach. We can’t wait to see the legend on the field.”

“That’s right little bro; it’s time to play football,” he replied with an excited smile. After all, he had spent more time in his life playing football than in a classroom, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything.

[aloesarchives]

Kengan Headcanon: Gaolong's reaction to an opponent speaking about you in a unsavory manner

Warnings: Swearing on my end, reader been ogled at, gender neutral reader/pronouns

Series: Kengan Ashura/ Kengan Omega

Pairing: Gaolong Wongsawat x GN! Reader

Word count: 1988

Pronouns: They/them (reader is referred as partner and (Y/N))

(A/N: Been sitting in my file for a year. Now it's finally finished and posted. Please let me know if there is anything else I need to tag in my warnings.)

So I already established that in my headcanon of Gaolang that he respects women unironically, actually he respects people in general.

That’s because he’s just GOATED like that and is overall a decent person, especially in the world/universe of Kengan.

But back to the topic, the reason why I want to establish this is he is someone that doesn’t take no shit from anyone. Based on what we learned in Ashura, Gaolang looks down upon those who are cocky and don’t take fighting seriously. Looking more into it, he normally just gets irritated by them due to his calm and collected composure. 

In the world of the sport boxing, it’s no stranger that he will come across people who don’t fall under the definition of sportsmanship. Gaolang has his fair share of opponents that need a little bit of humbling, and he for sure gives it to them during the boxing match. It also doesn’t help his perception of them when they think and openly claim they can clean Gaolang up, making him believe they’re shallow inside and out. But he only does the pre-fight press conference because his manager told him it builds up his good reputation and consistent publicity. Knowing him, he wouldn’t really go to these but he does it for the sake of the sport and the benefits it brings as previously mentioned.

In a normal situation at a pre-fight press conference, he’ll get annoyed by these fighters and let that emotion subside after the press conference is done. He’ll reply nonchalantly to anything that’s thrown at him whether it’s questions or remarks from his opponents that tests the waters. He knows how to handle them and just waits to get into the ring so his fighting can do all the talking for him.

That’s until there was one opponent he had to fight he wouldn’t forget. Gaolang’s title as heavyweight champion was never challenged nor questioned at all. But during that moment in time, Gaolang’s title as champion was being questioned when another boxer was racking up wins left and right. Although this boxer was slightly younger, he was picking up fast and his fights looked impressive. Eventually, this novice boxer was turning heads and getting popular to the point where rumors and speculation about him being the new champion in the heavyweight division. It seemed absurd to think so, but it wasn’t out of the picture. 

Gaolang saw the boxer’s other fights and understood where the praise was coming from. Although Gaolang was confident in his abilities, he still was cautious of the other’s abilities and boxing style. So like always, Gaolang trained like he always does. This wasn’t new to you at all since you have been with Gaolang for quite some time and married for a few years at that point in time.

You thought this opponent was different as he seemed humble and didn’t bark a lot. After turning on the t.v. back in Thailand, you started watching the pre-fight press conference. Again, nothing new to you at all. When the questions from reporters started coming in, both boxers answered them as normal. However, you had a feeling that something was off about the guy. You could tell what it was but your gut had a strange feeling that couldn’t be shaken. 

It was not until the last 15 minutes of the conference that the novice boxer started to bite off more than he can chew. There was one reporter left that triggered a particular answer from him that caught Gaolang’s attention. However, what got a reaction out of him was when the boxer mentioned your name.

“But I will admit though, Gaolang. I’m jealous of you. You’ve got a beautiful and wonderful partner there. I wish I had someone like (Y/N).” 

Gaolang didn’t like where this was going. More so when someone mentions your name that wasn’t friends, family, or King Rama. He knows people like to use your name to throw off Gaolang but he knows how to deal with those who try to use your name to their advantage.

But it doesn’t mean Gaolang doesn’t feel any sort of anger when this happens, especially now.

Gaolang stood up and gave his signature glare to his opponent. He then walked across the stage and stood in the middle. The boxer did the same but he had a stupid shit eating grin plastered on his face.

“What’s with the face, Gaolang? I thought you would agree since you have (Y/N) to yourself, ya’know? Having such a fine person as a partner is something between us two men with good taste could understand.”

“Watch your tongue, (Boxer’s name). (Y/N) is not an object and is not to be ogled at, have some respect.”

But the boxer didn’t know any better and forgot to hold his tongue. The next few things that came out his mouth sent Gaolang’s blood boiling. Then there’s you  who gasped and covered your mouth as you watched what unfolded in front of you on the screen. Deepening his glare more while still keeping his stoic face, he looked down upon the novice boxer.

“Your words against (Y/N) are punishable crimes, and I will deliver the punishment without further question.”

With that, Gaolang turned and walked towards the exit. All chaos breaks out in the conference room. Meanwhile, you were sitting at home with the feeling of disgust and a pinch of fear. You never minded when your name came in the news, but this type of attention was something you feared and the fact a man said on live television with no hesitation was terrifying.

Basically, Gaolang went straight to his hotel room and took a cool shower to calm down.

The anger subsided but the feeling of repulse didn’t.

There are only 3 things that Gaolang shows pride, loyalty and devotion towards: the country of Thailand, King Rama, and you.

And how dare that boxer disrespect you in front of him. The absolute audacity!!!

After Gaolang finishes his shower, he calls you to see if you're okay. Whether it is physically or emotionally, Gaolang needs to make sure you’re doing alright. Gaolang, as always, is respectful towards you in anything. That’s why he has never mentioned you or your relationship to the public unless you allow it. But even then, he wants it to be lowkey af.

Sure, you have calmed down. However, you were a little shaken by this. I mean, I would if a random man said some unsavory things about me on public broadcasting.

Gaolang apologized for letting this happen to you, to which you told him that this isn’t anything too serious and that he should focus more on his upcoming title defense match.

However, this was and IS a serious matter to Gaolang. So the next few days, Gaolang trained with just a little bit more intent than normal.

(Meanwhile, that boxer is getting absolutely slandered for the shit he said on the internet. Those netizens don’t like how he dissed their favorite power couple)

At last, the day of the match that would decide who keeps the title is here. You opt to stay home for this as it would be better for your piece of mind. But you were more worried about Gaolang. Although you  know your husband well, actually that’s the problem. You know how exactly your husband is. Goalang isn’t a hard person to read. He’s rational, calm, loyal, and observant. One thing you notice about Gaolang is how defensive he can get.

People can shit talk him all they want, he could give zeros fucks at all. But insult Thailand, King Rama, or god forbid you, that person is gonna get fucking die.

It had been a couple of days since the conference. So you know the initial anger wore off. But still, you only hope Gaolang goes somewhat  easy on him.

But since the controversy at the press conference caused such attention, this match was one of Gaolang’s most anticipated matches yet for any of his titles.

The event started as per usual with any boxing matches, the sponsors, introductions/entrances, anthems, etc. The challenger seems as confident as ever, having barely any nervousness evident on his face. Same goes with Gaolang, but with his classic stoic stare. The match was on its way once the referee explained the rules and the first bell rang.

However, you knew something was wrong right off the bat with him. It wasn't like Gaolang was fighting alright, he’s a man that never half ass anything. But you can tell he wasn’t giving his all at all. You didn’t know why he wasn’t trying at all. This wasn’t like his fight with Kaneda, he put effort into that one. But something was different about this match and you couldn’t tell what.

It seemed like Gaolong was struggling seemingly, the commentators were shocked and questioned that there would be a new heavyweight boxing champion on their hands. Was this the end of Gaolong’s reign as boxing champion?

No, you knew we wouldn’t lose to people like his opponent. He would rather die than give them a win.

The third round came along and around seemed hype about Gaolong’s opponent and he seemingly being the winner. However, Gaolong was not phased by this. In fact, he still kept his calm composed aura like he always does. That’s when you saw that Gaolong was up to something. You didn’t know yet but it was something.

The 3rd match began and that was when everything suddenly changed. It was like a flip of a switch as Gaolong just started boxing the hell out of his opponent. Gaolong had landed more hits than his opponent could dodge. 

It was obvious to the crowd that this round was one-sided. Gaolong outmatched the hell of his opponent in every way he could. And with a finishing blow to the jaw, Gaolong had won by a knockout. The crowd went wild, the commentators losing their minds from the fast yet heavy KO.

Gaolong pulled the ultimate power move by letting his opponent think he had a sliver of hope in beating Gaolong. Only for Gaolong to straight up smash it to the group and pummel it until it was dust. He shattered the man’s hopes and dreams by letting him think he had a chance of getting a win only for Gaolong to show him that he is nowhere near his level.

That Gaolong was miles ahead of this cocky bastard and he made sure his opponent knew that. This loss will forever change his opponent for the rest of his career.

After the Gaolong’s win was finalized, all he wanted to do was go home back to Thailand and be with you. That’s it. He did his press conferences and interviews, but he didn’t care for them. All that mattered was you and he needed to get home to you as soon as possible.

As always, King Rama gives Gaolong a few days to a week off of work when Gaolong brings home a win. Every time Gaolong wins, it’s like an unofficial national holiday is happening. Thailand is bright and festive as ever everything he wins.

Now with Gaolong back home and off from work, he just spends his time with you. Maybe a little training but more so leisure and doing errands or chores with you. You were happy that Gaolong isn’t in a bad mood anymore but Gaolong now knows that people who weaponized you and your name against him just to stir the pot. 

Well, he takes that pot and creates his own fucking food with it because no way in hell will he let someone do that to you. He made it known with that match. Because after that match, his opponents never mentioned your name ever again.

Thai God Guard Dog privileges.

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Hope you enjoyed it! Please like or/and reblog it! Have a wonderful day!

[myrquez]

In Motogp there’s so much money involved, performance anxiety dominates and builds up barriers. Everyone retreats into their own pack, nothing is done together anymore. And I just adapt to it, according to the theory that it’s better to be alone than to be in a group full of fake smiles. But relationships among athletes aren’t only the ones made via some direct, classic form of communication. In sport you can actually enter into communication with someone through other ways that are more mediated but, in some cases, even more profound. With Márquez, for example, we aren’t technically friends. We think highly of each other, we respect each other, we smile to each other when one sees the other one, over the past year he’s been very fair to me, often defining me as an ideal opponent. I think it’s because he knows that I can race him very hard, but always within the rules. Which is, even if for many may not seem like it, exactly the same thing he always did while racing against me. Marc may look crazy, but he actually stands out from clichés and defies physics laws in good conscience. Unlike other riders — those reckless ones with no sense of limit, who after a crash often say “I don’t know why I crashed” — Márquez knows very well why he crashes. He often precisely crashes on purpose, just to explore that limit. He does some experiments first, then goes on to elaborate his theory. In a way, he’s an empiricist exactly like my dad was, when he purposely kept taking more and more steps forward on the track to teach me how and where to brake. It’s just that in this case, it’s the rider that does it. I like Marc. And I interpreted our famous duels in 2017 as a means to get to know each other better. In Austria and Japan we indeed were extreme, but not crazy. Adventures-seekers who like to push themselves to the limit, but not insane and neither unfair to each other […] Deep down, he isn’t irresponsible, even if he often looks for some maneuvers that have no rhyme or reason. Theoretically, and practically, they don’t make any sense. Yet I never get angry about it, not even that time in Zeltweg when it looked like I told him to fuck off. It surprises me, instead, to see what he tried to do to get a win, something like “I can’t believe it”, an amazed curiosity to see how he tried to move into this uncharted territory, the same one where, thanks to him, I consequently went into as the well. And it’s so cool. As if we both dug together a whole new vein of gold: we won’t share the prize, of course, because to keep the gold is my goal, but we still dug through it together as if we were pioneers. And this indeed does create a bond, whatever is it.

And it’s even more incredible because I exactly know what Marc is going to do in that last turn in Zeltweg. Theoretically, he doesn’t have any more weapons to attack me: at this point his Honda has less traction, worn-out tyres, less power; generally speaking, Honda is less suited to this track than Ducati. And yet he got this far, in the end […] I well know that to have Marc right behind you while going through the last corner is way too much of a problem, the worst thing it could happen to you: he’s going to try it anyway anywhere. So I’ll be there, waiting for him […] Even if we’re going at 200 km/h, I can feel upon my skin how meters get marked bit by bit. One after another. I force myself to focus on his engine’s sound to understand when and where he will attack. And when the noise is there, almost unbearable, I brake hard and leave him a bit of space on the inside line, to force him to exaggerate a bit and then overtake him in acceleration. It’s almost as if I just accepted his invite, just to deceive him later. It might look like it’s just a technical challenge, or a stunt one, but it’s actually about mind games, an hand in glove tied relationship in which our minds get connected. As in bull and bullfighter kind of way. Or, in a I know that you know that I know kind of way. To get a win in this way is a much more difficult thing to achieve, but it is much more cooler as well. When Marc gets on the inside Iine I just know that I made it, because he’s a champion, but he cannot overcome the laws of psychic. My plan gets fulfilled and the dissolving noise of his bike as he goes wide resonates with liberation. That’s when I make that gesture, automatically. Fuck off, you just got played! Real subtitle is: what did you make me do, you bastard? It’s my third win this year. It’s now clear that I am the one challenging Márquez for the title. But to me this doesn’t matter. Like it doesn’t matter that much how I just won against the one who is recognized as the hand-to-hand duels master […] What matters most is that this race has been a way to get to know each other better. Márquez, with his usual Joker smile, confesses that if he hadn’t tried to surpass me he wouldn’t have slept at all that night. That’s what perfectly defines what he is: as long as he is breathing, he will try to pass you even if he had to go through a wall.

In Motegi it isn’t that different. Here, as well, Márquez is struggling a bit more than me, but I am sure he is going to try it in the last corner. Why shouldn’t he? We’ve been “beating” each other as if there was no tomorrow for the last six laps, in some apocalyptic conditions: heavy rain, curling-like grip, no visibility at all […] Ten minutes ago I wouldn’t have thought we’d get to this point, but as soon as Márquez did a little mistake I got back on track and now we’re here, us again. Ehi, Marc, how are you doing? Our connection in Zeltweg has been restored on the other side of the world. It’s now clear that everything that is going to happen now would not be possible without the other’s collaboration. Like two alpinists in a rope team, we will get ‘till the last meter together. We overtake and we get overtaken. We give and we take. We sting like bees, fly like butterflies, and more than anything we hit like blacksmiths. At Turn 10, I change my trajectory: I’ve been studying Marc for quite a lot from behind and now I imitate him, going a bit wider. This allows me to get into Turn 11 very fast, ready for my strong suit: braking. That’s how I easily overtake him. The Ducati is very stable, everything is under control. I’d be sure to get a win at that point but an alarm goes off in my mind: I won’t give it to you this easily. Exactly. Last corner is on the right. Giving my position it’s obvious that there isn’t any physical space to get on the inside, but imagine if he does really give a damn. When I’m about to lean into the Turn, Marc abruptly arrives out of nowhere as gracefully as Hulk in a china shop. It’s not even a dirty try, more like a circus number: his engine’s noise getting closer echoes into my helmet like the drum rolls that comes just before a trapeze artist jumps. Ladies and gentlemen, Marc Márquez! Where the fuck do you want to go? You’re still sitting straight, I’m already leaning: don’t you see that we’re touching? I don’t know how, but I keep the bike in control. I suspend my maneuver for a millisecond, just enough to let him slide on the outside as I go on riding through the apex. At that point he’s way too wide, he pulls half of a miracle by leaning all on the right to keep his bike on track but has no margin for anything else. Farewell, bye, goodbye. I win today. Again. After the finish line, we stop near the track side by side. Our gloves touch. Contact. Knowledge of the other has deepened. Relationship was preserved. Despite everything, no one cut the rope and we got to the mountaintop together. It’s an awesome feeling. That’s exactly the sport that I would always like. Especially because I won. On TV I eventually admit that to win against Márquez in what he does best really excites me: this is the boost that I need for the climb to the championship, at only 11 points from the lead. Marc showers me with compliments and says that it’s awesome to battle with me for the title, the living proof that professionalism and hard work pay off. He calls me a good guy as well, and I forgive him. Actually, no. Why should I be ashamed [of being a good guy]? To pretend to be a bad guy is something that everybody can do. To actually be one when it’s needed, and to do it with a certain style, it’s something for the few.

— andrea dovizioso talking about his relationship and his duels with marc márquez in asfalto (2018)

[vitentia]

MEDDLE ABOUT .lıllıl.

pairings ━━ street racer!ellie x fem!reader

warnings ━━ TOTALLY AND ENTIRELY inspired by the movie Culpa Mia bc I am obsessed, jealous!ellie, illegal street racing, questionably dangerous circumstances, fighting, use of a gun (not against anyone)

synopsis ━━ ellie williams, notoriously infamous street racer, wanted in many countries both by law enforcement and desire. desire for her car, her skills, her money, and especially what she could do with those hands beyond driving. luckily for you, her favorite grid girl was the only the only one she ever wanted.

playlist ━━ literally any chase atlantic song ever

Your friends excitedly pulled your arm, ooo-ing and awing at everything under the neon lights. A girl friend squealed into your shoulder as an attractive racer walked by and gave her a wink.

“Holy shit! You never told me you had such sex symbols walking your job like an all you can eat buffet.” You snorted at her and shook your head.

“All you can eat maybe but I actually have a job to do.”

“Oh, please, you mean to tell me nobody in here has tried to get with you? That you’ve never been tempted?”

You shrugged, “I never said that.”

Walking your friends over to the gathering crowd, you provided them front row seats to the open road arena and stepped away to lean your head into your favorite car.

“Williams.”

The short haired girl whistled lowly. “Aha, there’s my favorite girl. You gonna be shooting for me tonight?”

“Nah, Dina wanted to do it today.”

Ellie clicked her teeth. “Damn, I was hoping I’d see you in something sexy before I race this asshole.” She nodded her head in the direction of her opponent.

Cameron, upper middle class douchebag who thought he could win every race by being reckless and owning expensive cars. He winked at you from outside his car before sitting inside, no doubt trying to rile Ellie up.

You rolled your eyes and faced her again, “Ignore him. His fancy little cars are no match for this baby.”

“No match for my baby, you mean.” You made a confused face. “Hop in the passenger seat.”

“Woah hold on, you don’t let anyone in this car.” You responded, shock and surprise laced in your voice.

She smirked. “I’ve let you on top of it.”

Both anxious and excited, you bit your lip and looked at her blood red car. “Are you sure?”

“No time like the present, baby. Get in.”

You squealed and ran around the front of the car to get into the passenger seat, your friends shouting sexual jokes at you from afar. Once your bottom hit the plush leather seats you nearly moaned, flipping down the upward mirror, opening the dashboard, all of it was just so…exciting.

“You have been in a car before, right?” Ellie said sarcastically, watching your enjoyment.

“Yeah but never your car. It’s like a spaceship.” You gleamed, she smiled at you and shook her head, resting her arm out the window as Dina sauntered over between the two cars.

She read the basic rules and the promised dollar amount to the loser, roughly around 7k and spoke to each person in the car. When she came around you and Ellie, you leaned on the elbow rest and called out to her from the window.

“Your ass looks great in those jeans, D!” She turned around, hair whipping behind her and gave you a wink as Ellie scoffed.

“Why didn’t you tell me my ass looks good?” She asked, offended.

“It looks good, not as good as Dina’s though.” Your smirked.

Right then, she revved up the engine, hands sitting properly at the wheel and her plan already in motion. Dina stood between the two cars, raising the gun high in the air before finally breaking the tension and letting out a shot.

Before you could even blink, the car was already swiveling through the air. Your heart felt like it was in your throat as you grabbed onto the upper handle for support, but your mind was ecstatic over the adrenaline rush you got.

You didn’t even realize you were smiling and laughing until Ellie broke her concentration to admire you.

The moment fell short when Cameron’s sports car bumped roughly into Ellie’s from behind, sending you forward in your seat with your seatbelt forcing you back.

“What the fuck?” She cursed, bracing herself on the steering wheel before craning her eyes in your passenger side mirror to see.

Cameron pushed into the back of the car again, this time, his smirk visible for both of you to see.

Ellie tilted her head menacingly at him through the rear view mirror and revved up her engine, her knuckles turning white against the steering wheel as she prepared for a particularly sharp turn. You clasped the upper handle harder than before and prepared yourself for the increase in speed. Wind blew about the car dramatically and once the car finished its straight illegal turn, your butt planted on the seat and you finally allowed yourself to breath.

Ellie didn’t say a word nor look in your direction, her eyes pointedly eyeing the finish line with vigor. If you weren’t so attracted to her angry face, you’d be slightly worried.

Cameron expensive car rolled up on its side once Ellie made it past the finish line and it’s owner came out of it in anger. He slammed the door shut uncaringly and stomped over to you and Ellie like a child. You slipped next to Ellie but she lightly pushed you behind her and stood to her full height against the prissy boy.

“You fucking bitch!” He cursed

“Calling me names doesn’t help you, upper side. My money is owed.” She responded calmly, scarier than if she yelled back.

Jesse ran up in the middle and inserted himself between them. “Let it go, man. You lost fair and square.”

Cameron scoffed, unbelieving. “I ain’t giving you nothing. You or your little prostitute, Williams.”

Ellie swore her vision turned red as she revved up her arm for a mean right hook before abruptly being interrupted by Jesse holding her back.

“Not now, Els.” He whispered to her.

Cameron chuckled at her reaction and looked you up and down, sending a shiver up your spine. “Maybe I will pay for you, how much you charge a night-“

As soon as the boy started talking, Jesse mumbled something under his breath and promptly let go of the seething girl in his arms, raising them up to his sides and pressing his lips into a thin line. Without anymore resistance, Ellie swung her fist across Cameron’s jaw and a jaw dropping crack was heard from feet away. You gasped and slapped your hand over your mouth as she pushed him to the ground and pressed her black and white converse into his freshly cracked jaw.

“You’ll hear from my lawyers, you bitch.” He coughed out, barely eligible.

Ellie smirked and leaned down, hand against her knee. “I’ll be glad to tell them all you’ve been up to, Cameron Trevor Mallard Jr.” She roughly pulled her foot away and nodded towards Jesse. “Collect my money and bring it to me by tomorrow.”

No words were exchanged as she took your hand in hers and directed you to the passenger seat, opening the door and buckling you up herself before moving to her side and driving away from everyone. You looked back through the window, jaw agape.

“I’ll tell Jesse to make sure your friends get home safe, okay? I just- I just didn’t want to be alone.” She said, breaths shaking alongside her hands.

“Hey, come on, pull over. You can’t drive like this.” You said gently, putting your hand on her shoulder.

Listening to your words, Ellie pulled over to the side of a gravel road and took a deep breath. Your hand slipped under hers and examined the cuts on her knuckles, kissing them softly.

“You shouldn’t have-“

“No, I should have.” She finally looked at you. “Besides, I’ve been wanted to do put that kid in place for ages. You just gave me good reason.”

You smiled and averted your eyes from her intense gaze, but she leaned forward in her seat and brushed her nose against yours, forcing you to look at her.

“Thank you.” You whispered

She smirked, “Ah, you’re such a sap.” Ellie pressed her lips against yours, undecided on whether she wanted to swallow you whole or take it slow. With the moonlight bouncing off her tinted windows and the darkness of the night shielding you both from any prying eyes, she finally decided to do both.

[letterex-fyofm]

hq first years playing basketball hc

Because after that one haikyuu CD drama of class 3 vs class 4, my head has been swarming with ideas and scenarios and I couldn't let another year pass without writing them down.

btw, this is as if they were in P.E class and playing a silly basketball match.

Kageyama

would absolutely try to set the ball into the hoop. He would like, win five points straight by setting until the other team started complaining about how that was illegal

he would still pass the ball as if doing a horizontal set though.

gets a bit thrown off because his opponents are LAUNCHING at him instead of standing two good meters away from him behind the safety of a net

again with passing, he just would be so analytical about who to pass? and his teammates would be like "JUST PASS THE BALL" but it is so difficult for him to focus when the ball is repeatedly trying to get taken away from him that he just passes it to whoever is next

one time, that person was tsukishima (other team) and kageyama almost died of frustration

he is the type to be setting the basketball while in breaks. he will later try to set a volleyball and ricochet it straight up to the ceiling and be surprised at how light it is

Hinata

he's so damn fast. like, he will be on the other side of the court in the blink of an eye.

walks a lot, though. he's teammates both hate him and love him.

soooo good at taking the ball from others. until tsukki calls him a bug that has to crawl to play (kageyama thought it was very funny)

after that, he starts competing with kageyama (who is on his same team) on who can score the most points (kageyama wins and hinata insists his first five points by setting do not count)

when he is on the bench, he will cheer for his team so loudly and have the time of his life.

volunteers to be the one jumping for the ball at the start of each...set? idk the name 😭😭😭. his team doesn't let him, tho.

once, he receives a pass. it hurt him like hell but he said "it was all calculated".

once, he spiked the ball, and it hurt him like hell yet he said "it was all on purpose!" with tears on his eyes.

Tsukki

he's having the time on his life watching hinata and kageyama embarrass themselves over and over again

is forced to do the jumping...and that's like his only contribution to the game.

tries to chat away the time of the game with Yamaguchi, but Yamaguchi gets surprisingly into it so tsukki is kinda standing on a corner like 🧍‍♂️

whenever hinata has the ball, he blocks it and is so annoyingly happy about it. ("try to score, shrimp, let's watch you try it" "TSUKISHIMA, YOU JEKR!")

HE'S JUST SO ANNOYING WITH HIS BLOCKING--like, putting his arms like that

he stops in mortification when yamaguchi says "looks like kageyama and hinata aren't the only ones missing volleyball--wait Tsukki I didn't mean it" (he will never forget nor forgive Yamaguchi for that)

after that, he's pretty useless (doesn't want to run, doesn't want to jump, passes the ball to whoever is closer to him, doesn't try to take it away from anyone) so he gets benched

he has a nice view from the bench though, so it isn't that bad. and with nice view i refer to him watching as Yamaguchi thrives and getting a full-on gay crisis (me too, tsukki, me too)

his peace is ruined after hinata is benched too (because, well, all students need to play and it is just a silly P.E match) he feels less lonely but he will never admit that

Tadashii

he's surprisingly good at the sport because he played it with his cousins before. he is getting way too into it.

he mimics tsukki's blocking in basketball after learning it was legal and indeed a common play.

was so crushed when tsukki got benched ("now I'm going to be all alone" "you didn't even talk to me while I was there" "THAT'S NOT THE POINT")

jokingly told tsukki (mouthed the words) "this ones for you" expecting to absolutely fail. he shockingly managed to score when he was way too far from the hoop. he blushed and died and everything and tsukki just pretended to be cool.

the type to apologize everytime he bumps into someone or does something he things might have hurt anyone.

before tsukki gets benched, he passed the ball to him and tsukki didn't notice it so he got the ball smashed on his stomach. tsukki might have recovered but Yamaguchi will never (very guilty and insisted to take him to the infirmary)

after P.E finished, he would joke and said "it seems that my destiny was basket and not volleyball after all." hinata was not amused. yachi was seriously worried that yamaguchi would leave and gave him a whole stuttered speech. yamaguchi had to assure her like ten times that he would, in fact, not leave the club.

the basketball captain tries to recruit him though. it only makes his rivalry with daichi grow.

Yeah, this whole thing could have been written in fic format, but I was too lazy and too tired and maybe I will someday, but who knows!

[kitkat238984]

Goddess Of Your Dreams (soulmate au)

Summary: In an alternate universe where soulmates are determined by unique marks, you do everything you can to hide your matching soul mark from the cold-hearted handsome devil, Hook.

But when a match with "Timeless" Toni Storm causes your secret to be revealed to the whole world, you have many awkward encounters that leave you both mesmerised and breathless.

TW: Mentions of sexual themes, normal wrestling violence.

The crowd roared as The Chairman’s Intent played through the speakers and Hook entered through the tunnel and made his way down the ramp towards his hungry-for-violence opponent, Wheeler Yuta. Excalibur’s voice fed through the TV screens in the homes of thousands. 

“And we see the cold-hearted handsome devil walk down the ramp, so confident and expressionless, a complete contrast to that sunflower soulmark he’s sporting there, wouldn’t you say Taz?” 

The father of the heart-throb in the wrestling world had to stay neutral in his job as a commentator, but never hid how proud he was of his son and his achievements. “Of course. But if there’s one thing I’m sure about is that he will make some lucky girl very happy”. 

“Hook, doing his ritual of circling around the ring. And I think the soul marks make you realise just how human we all are, showing almost the vulnerability in people as stone cold as Hook”. 

The match between Hook and Wheeler wasn’t for any title, only to settle a score when Yuta began cussing out Hook’s arrogance and the friends he “strings along”, and - as he usually does - Hook shoved those words where the sun don’t shine and had him caught in a redrum within minutes. After all, cursing is Danhausen’s thing. 

— 

A couple of weeks later, you were backstage, preparing for your upcoming fight against ‘Timeless’ Toni Storm for the Women’s World Championship. This was quite frankly the biggest match of your life, and against a wrestler who was far more experienced than yourself, even though you had been in AEW for a year now and had made quite the spectacle of yourself with your alluring character. You couldn’t count the number of times male fans of AEW had approached you with their clever but awkward pick-up lines. 

“You’re ready for this” , the voice of your ringside and friend, Kris Statlander, told you whilst patting your shoulder. “You’ve studied every one of her moves and trained for weeks on end. How are you nervous about this?” 

You ignored her question with no real answer to give her. You were ready, more than you had ever been for a match, let alone already being a decent wrestler. 

You continued to watch yourself in the mirror. You really did look like a goddess. And that wasn’t you trying to be conceited because your whole gimmick was that you were Venus, the Roman goddess of love and beauty and sex and more. You wore waist high blue shorts with decorative white buttons and drawstring with a matching plaid sporting bra which cupped your breasts and made your cleavage visible for all to see. 

You didn’t mind being used as sex appeal to be honest as it made you feel a lot more confident in your self. You’d hardly had any confidence before AEW until one day you decided to be brave, wearing very little sportswear at the gym which happened to be the day you were recognised as a potential for professional wrestling. Coincidence? Who knows, but you didn’t care. Everyone appreciated you as a good sportswoman. You were here and you were proud your dream came true whilst also being one of the best female wrestlers in the company. 

“You know why I’m nervous”, you said, timidly, glancing to the right of the mirror to meet the gaze of Kris. 

“We go through this every time, no one’s going to see it. They never do! That choker is very secure. You might as well be strangling yourself”. 

You hummed, instinctively slipping your hand under the large braid that snaked down the right side of your neck and swept your fingers under the choker, touching where you knew your soul mark to be. 

“I don’t even know why you bother hiding it. It’ll come out eventually. One of your hookups are going to piece it together”. 

You smiled and chuckled lightly at her comment and turned around, tiptoeing to lean closer to her ear. 

You whispered, “Daniel Garcia didn’t say anything when he had his hands wrapped round my throat”. 

With a hearty laugh, you went to leave the room you used as a dressing room hearing her dramatically gasp, saying “Y/N, you’re such a slut!” 

The door was half open with you facing inside. “I may be a slut but I still have morals. My soulmate is more important than any of those floozies”, you laughed again and opened the door fully, but almost crashed into a figure who was walking past and most likely heard the last of your conversation. 

You looked up at the tall man wearing a white hoodie and black sweatpants and immediately cleared your throat and glanced back down when you made quick eye contact when he glanced at you with a raised eyebrow and continued on his way, not stopping once to question what he just heard. 

“Awkward”. You turned your head to glare before nodding your head towards the hallway so you can get ready to go on, not before taking one last look at the cold-hearted Hook who had his hood covering that damned mark that matched yours. 

Why, of all people, him? 

You’d never even spoken to each other and you always thought that your personalities would clash. That is, if you even knew his personality. His cool exterior was only an act after all - or at least most of it. You had no clue where to even start with him. 

Your ‘quick look back’ must have lasted a little longer than you anticipated because you found yourself being pushed through the dimly lit hallway towards the stage. 

Toni Storm was already out there making her extravagant entrance as usual and the nerves suddenly hit you again like a continuous stabbing to the gut. 

Kris must have read you like a book because she began roughly massaging your shoulders and shaking you, waking you out of the depths of your own mind. 

“You got this", she told you. “Rip out the feathers of her boa and you’ll have her crumbling on the spot”. 

“Or that would just make her even more angry?" 

“Just beat her senseless and bring back that belt. Come on, we’re on”. 

You heard the guitar riff you’d heard so many times which was your entrance song, 'Venus' by Shocking Blue - ironically not such a shocking song for your character. 

Holding your best flirty face, you walked through the tunnel and stood centre stage, eyeing the crowd and blowing kisses at certain men on the front row, contributing to your act. You made eye contact with Toni Storm and gracefully travelled down the ramp with Kris tailing behind you, riling up the crowd a bit before walking around ringside. 

Entering the ring you saw she had a mic in her hand and so you thought you’d wait to attack and have a little fun first. 

“Any words before I banish you off the screen?” 

You motioned for the mic and she willingly let you have it. “First off, that belt clashes with your outfit. And secondly… I’m about to knock you into the 1800s, showgirl”. 

You throw the mic to the side and headed straight for the attack which Storm skilfully dodges but you bounce back on the ropes and high kick her in the face which makes her stumble back. 

You go back and forth with the attacks and a few minutes in it’s still difficult to predict a winner as you both fight through the pain, eager to get your hands on that belt. 

You let her swing you around the ring before stranding you in the middle where she kicked your back and you fell forward, face first into the canvas. Blood was most likely pouring from your nose at this point and you felt pretty helpless but, your arms the only thing keeping you up, even when she had your legs bent and leaning on your back you still wouldn’t budge so the referee never started counting. 

Everything from that point felt like slow-motion. Storm yanked up your hair and grabbed a hold of the precious choker that you felt the need to guard with your life. However, you couldn’t stop her as your arms were still in use to hold you up. 

You thought you could hear the voices of Excalibur, Tony, and Taz commenting on this scene when your oxygen privileges were taken away from you for a brief couple of seconds. 

“Dramatic as ever! Toni Storm ripping that choker from Venus, breaks the chain, and still has her-” 

“Wait a minute there, Tony”, Excalibur interrupts. “What’s that? On her neck?” 

“Why, it’s a sunflower!” He was quick to reply. “Oh, my god! Now, for anyone who doesn’t remember, that’s the exact same soul mark as our very own Hook! Taz, how are you feeling about this?” 

A few seconds passed before Taz responded to that question, bewildered by this realisation that millions of people in the fanbase had just come to terms with. “For the first time ever, I-I have no words. I’m utterly speechless”. 

You couldn’t believe what had just happened. You were in such shock that the one thing you were trying to hide was revealed that you lost control of your arms and they gave in to both the weight of yourself and Toni - who was still laying over your back - and the recoil of your head after the breakage of your choker. 

You acted fast when the referee began smacking his hand on the canvas and you swung your elbow back into Storm’s side, rolling her onto her front in place of you, pulling her legs back and holding down her upper back with your knees so she couldn’t escape. 

Within three seconds, you heard the ring of the bell indicating your victory and had secured yourself the WWC. You carefully got off your opponent and used your large braid which was still somehow intact to cover the sunflower mark. You knew it was all too late but perhaps you could save yourself at least a little dignity for now. 

You allowed your hand to be raised in the air and for the Women’s World Championship belt to be slung over your shoulder. You decided to not let your revealed secret take away your triumph and you gladly stood on the ropes of the ring and held up the belt for the world to see. Most of the crowd were cheering which you were relieved at. 

Jumping out of the ring you picked up a mic and yelled out, “Checkmate, bitch!” before Kris attacked you with a hug which you happily embraced, knocking the microphone out of your hand. 

With smiles strewn across your faces, you limped up the ramp and gave the camera a wink and blew a kiss before heading through the tunnel. 

You were greeted with “well done”s and “congratulations”’s, and you didn’t fail to notice every one of them look at where your soul mark was. 

“I can’t believe I just did that”, you said to them all, still breathless. 

“We thought you were a goner when she had you pinned like that. Such a turn around”. 

“Saw it in the viewing room. Could’ve gone either way”. 

“Y/N…” a stern voice called to you. You turned to see who it was and came face-to-face with the one and only Tony Khan. 

Ah shit. 

“I hate to cut this celebration short but could I speak with you for a moment?” 

You stared in shock. “Uh yeah of course”. 

He couldn’t fire you, could he? It was just a soul mark. Even though the scenario that he would get rid of you was unlikely, the fear plagued your mind. 

— 

“I first want to say well done for securing the Women’s World Championship. You deserve it after all the effort you’ve put in this year”. 

“Thank you”, is all you managed to say. 

“I’m going to be straight with you. It was very irresponsible to keep something like a soul mark matched with another wrestler away from myself and the team. We would have understood if you wanted to keep that a secret from the public but not us. We could have helped you and prevented a situation like this from happening". 

You sighed, knowing he was completely right and you should have at least told someone about it so you could get help to cover it rather than taking it upon yourself to hide it from everyone. 

“We can’t do much about it now. The public already knows and we’ll just have to go with it”. 

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, sir?” 

“If what you’re thinking is incorporating it into a story line, then yes”. 

You had such mixed emotions coursing through your veins at this moment. You were relieved that you weren’t in trouble, excited you were part of a new story line, thrilled that you’d just won your match against Toni Storm, and scared as to what your soulmate would say to you after this. 

He continued. “But I have to ask. Did Hook know?” 

You shook your head lightly in shame and looked down at the hands that sat fidgety on your lap. 

“Well I’ll give you time to sort out a few personal things, and I’ll make sure promos are recorded regarding your new on-screen romance first before there’s any action in the ring. Thank you”. 

You nodded in appreciation and left his makeshift office, now bubbling in anticipation at this new opportunity. You practically ran to your dressing room where Kris said she’d meet you and you’d get changed and party until dawn, drinking to celebrate your success and to also forget about the future encounter with Hook, well… Tyler is what you’d found out his name was, but you weren’t ready to be so casual with someone you'd never spoken to before. 

— 

When you were back at work, you expected Hook to approach you straight away, however, the most you got out of him was a mere glance your way or sometimes you’d catch him staring at your back, not that he seemed even the slightest bit embarrassed to turn away. 

You couldn’t possibly start any conversation with him. In fact, when you were told what was happening for one of the promos, introducing your on-screen romance, you never spoke to him about it and had to improvise when the cameras were placed on you both. 

“Danhausen, tell us how you’re feeling about the upcoming trios match?” The interviewer asked him. Danhausen being himself, he had this scary yet amusing pose with clawed fingers in front of him. 

“Very good. I have cursed all three of them so they may die before then”, he said in his freaky accent. 

“And of course you’re teaming with Hook and Orange Cassidy - a pretty strong team formed there if you ask me - how do you think they’re coping with the pressure of this match?” 

“I fear they are frozen”. 

“Uh frozen? What do you mean by that?” 

“Some powerful sorcery has frozen them in time. Look!”. 

The camera first focused on Orange Cassidy who was leaning up against a wall, both arms and legs crossed and slowly chewing on a piece of gum. 

The camera then turned to you and Hook who were told to stand opposite one another, simply staring into the other’s eyes, your soul mark being the one to show the camera. 

Although it was only acting, you still felt butterflies floating around your stomach since this was technically the most you’ve ever interacted with him, your soulmate. No one else’s soulmate. None of his adoring female fans had the same mark as him on their necks. The thought of you being the special one almost brought a smile to your face, but you had to stop yourself when you remembered the cameras. 

You used this time to really appreciate his facial features. How had you not realised how attractive he was sooner? His jawline was well-defined yet looked so soft to touch. And his eyes… so dark but so… intriguing… and… and… what were you saying? 

You’d got so lost in the moment that you hadn’t even realised that the cameras were no longer on your faces. It was only when the clicking of Danhausen’s fingers in between you both that you were brought out of your trance. 

“I fixed them! I didn’t know I could uncurse someone…” 

You saw Orange Cassidy on the other side of the room, peeking over the top of his sunglasses with his suggestive look at you. Hook hadn’t once flinched or maybe even blinked and still continued staring your way. The fear and self-consciousness struck you like it had done a thousand times before and you awkwardly walked past him towards catering where you were to meet Kris and Willow. 

You were smitten alright. Unmistakably. And you did not want to make yourself feel even more flustered than that situation had already made you. 

— 

The plan was simple. "Timeless" Toni Storm and her husband and AEW wrestler, Juice Robinson, would talk shit about you in the ring, daring you to come out with the belt. You’d go out, say something snarky, they’d beat the crap out of you, and Hook comes out to save you. Easy. Simple. 

Except it really wasn’t that simple. Not when Hook was involved. You couldn’t bring yourself to confront him again. Danhausen’s promo was only the beginning and you only just managed to hold yourself together then. 

It took you a few laps around your hotel room that morning to clear your mind of the worries. Once all of this was over and everything made sense in the world, there would be nothing left to worry about and you would actually be able to get on with your life and career in peace. 

You were backstage, ready for your entrance. Hook stood only a couple metres away, eating a bag of chips. If there was one thing you definitely knew about Hook as Tyler, it was that he loved chips. Even when the cameras were nowhere in sight you always saw him with chips to hand. 

“...so what I want to say to Venus is that if you want to disrespect my beautiful wife, then you can come out here and say it to me as well. Come on! What are you afraid of? Everyone knows your dirty little secret now so you might as well show it to the world!” 

You took that as your cue and motioned for the sound and visuals manager to play your into. When it began, you wasted no time strutting out on stage, with no bother sending kisses to the crowd. After all, you were meant to be angry at them. 

You were given a mic at the end of the ramp and when you entered the ring, the power couple before you stood tall and confident, looking down at you who stood alone with your newly won belt you felt the need to protect. 

“Let us not dither with such a minor dispute. I don’t want to waste my time with an extra”, Storm laughed, and you heard a few boos in the crowd. Thank you. “You have stolen what is mine and I want it back. Now”. 

You smirked to the crowd and back at her who had her hand out expectedly. 

“It’s actually my belt now. My belt, my championship, my title. If you want it, you’ll have to come and take it from me. Mr. Loverboy over here don’t scare me”. 

An impulsive thought suddenly came to you whilst saying that. Where were their soul marks? Were they matching? People get into relationships, but normally they wait for their soulmates for marriage. Perhaps you just couldn’t see their marks, you thought, but then inwardly grimaced at where it might be as Robinson wasn’t exactly hiding much of himself with the amount of clothing he was wearing. 

“And where’s yours?” she asked. “Are you done staring at each other or are you still both lost little puppies, looking for their owners?” The teasing began to infuriate you. She must have been told to make the most of how she was the one to shed the light on your soul mark. 

“It’s… none of your business…” you awkwardly stated, glancing off to the side. 

“I’ll tell you what is my business. That championship. Darling?” 

Within seconds, the mic flung out of your hands for goddess knows how many times now and before you knew it, your hands were pinned behind your back and you had fallen to your knees, hair pulled to look up the 1920s star, officially at the mercy of the couple. 

As always, Storm dramatised the entire scenario, acting as if the belt was an Oscar she’d won for a picture show, and suddenly flung it to the side of the ring before striking your face with her forearm several times and you could do nothing but endure it. 

At one point you decided to test the waters and spat at her, who gasped disgustingly and kicked you to the side and you dropped on the floor. 

As if on cue, the arena darkened and Action Bronson played through the speakers, notifying you that Hook had entered the scene, and the butterflies yet again fluttered in your chest. 

Don’t get nervous now with millions of people watching you, Y/N. 

At the sight of Hook striding down the ramp with his cold-hearted yet handsome, sort of devilish expression - oh you got why they called him that now - Robinson and Storm ran past him towards the tunnel, Hook intimidatingly puffing out his chest through his hoodie as they crossed. 

The crowd went absolutely wild when they saw that Hook hadn’t stopped there and fought, but climbed through the ring and stood over your feeble state. As expected and without any exchange of words, he offered you a hand which you looked to the audience for approval before accepting gratefully. 

Ahhh it hurts so much. I didn’t realise the soulmate bond was this powerful. Was he feeling the same as me? How was he so cool about this all? 

You smiled as you both walked up the ramp in style, a couple that were quite frankly unstoppable to AEW. 

You didn’t bother lingering backstage, hoping that maybe Hook would finally approach you since you still couldn’t gather the courage to do it yourself. It was rather hypocritical of you seeing as you had an entire year to say something, but you just wanted to know if he was interested in you or not before making a fool out of yourself. 

A small gasp escaped your lips when a strong hand gripped your arm and spun you around where you faced the devil himself. He stared at you like he had all those other times, although you noticed the subtle desperation in his expression as his nose twitched and eyebrows furrowed, adjusting his jaw. 

His eyes shifted and you followed his gaze to where your mark was and self-consciously reached up to touch it but his hand gently took hold of your wrist, stopping you, and his head leaned closer toward your neck. 

Was this a chapter out of Fifty Shades of Grey or something? 

You couldn’t tell if your heart had stopped or if it was beating so furiously that it would burst out of your chest. A shiver sent down your spine and a shaky breath left your lips when you felt his own brush over the mark you shared, giving you the perfect angle to see his own soul mark. 

It really was a replica of the one you had which was a given. 

His head lifted out of your neck and he met your eyes again, this time exhibiting a sly smirk telling you that he knew exactly what he was doing to you. 

How devious… but you couldn’t deny that you were loving every second of it. 

“Why were you ignoring me?” you finally managed to ask after weeks since your mark was first shown in the ring. His obvious attraction and reveal of his need for you as well fuelled confidence within you, and you were glad that this encounter had turned out the way it had. 

“Why did you hide this from me?” He placed a hand on the side of your neck which now filled you with warmth and comfort. 

You kept quiet and bit your bottom lip as you didn’t really have a good explanation for why you did what you did. 

He chuckled lightly and quickly looked over your body, licking his lips - a small detail that only someone as close to him as you were in that moment would have noticed. 

“Well now I know we’re soulbound, it’d be rude not to ask the lady for a drink after the show. So how about it?” 

A large, mischievous grin swept across your face. “I’d love to. But you should know that I don’t commit on the first date. Not to anyone”. 

“Not even to your soulmate? Aren’t you meant to be the goddess of love?” 

“Are you saying you’re already in love with me?” 

You had both found yourselves gradually getting closer and closer. You didn’t even realise when your chests had come into contact, breath tickling each other’s faces. 

“Can’t argue with the soulmate bond”. 

Almost in desperation, your lips crashed into Hook’s who’s hands travelled to your waist to somehow pull you even closer than you already were, your arms snaking around his neck, fingers sliding through the hair at the top of the nape of his neck. 

“...I thought these videos were meant to be about me…” a voice broke you out of your kiss and you felt Hook huff and pout like he usually does, making you giggle at his childishness. 

You turned and saw Danhausen standing, watching you both in confusion with the camera crew situated behind him, pointing towards you. 

This was undoubtedly going to be aired in a promo but you couldn’t care less in that special moment of yours. The crew left once they realised that you both weren’t going to budge from where you were. You’d just been thrown in the arms of your soulmate after a year of knowing the truth and over a month of incredible attraction. 

Your attention was very quickly back on the man securely holding you in place, and you decided to tease him a little if that was the game you were going to be playing. “I’m not just the goddess of love. I’m the goddess of beauty… desire… sex…” 

Knowing exactly where you were going with this, his smirk returned, bigger than before. “Well let’s see. Beauty? Check. Desire?” He told a hold of your hand before guiding it towards the bulge that stuck out of his sweatpants. You squeezed his length gently, earning a soft groan before pulling your hand away again. “Check. Sex? Well I guess I’ll be the judge of that”. 

His hands slid down, cupping your ass and lifting you up with ease as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. You felt yourself being carried through the halls backstage and you used this time to entangle your hands back through his hair which caused him to squeeze where his hands were placed on your backside. 

You lightly nibbled on his neck where the mark was and breathed in all of him. 

Ugh. Did he always smell this fucking good? 

You didn’t care if the people you passed were judging you or not; you only cared that all this tension was finally about to be released. 

“You’ll be turning full heel after the night is over, baby. I’m about the fuck all that gracefulness out of you”. 

You giggled and leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “You just try me”. 

THE END. 

[lamnwar]

Come here, old man ♡ // Harasawa Katsunori x Fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

A/N: ABSOLUTELY not requested, this is ridiculously self indulgent and I got so into it that it's like... 6.3k words on how much I need that man 😭😭 @sennkawaa @chaotic-nick I did us harasawa girlies a service with this one, hope yall enjoy it <333

Context: a chance encounter with a hot old man makes you loose your sanity.

Warnings: age gap (around 20 yrs assuming reader is in university), alcohol consumption but they have sex sober, aomine being a bitch during his 2 sec of screentime, handjob, oral (f! receiving), mention of unprotected sex but they wear a condom, implied praise kink (reader), coach harasawa is kinda desperate (poor man hasn't got good pussy in months 😔)

Never in your life did you think you'd sleep with a guy old enough to be your dad, yet here you are – caged under the basketball coach's surprisingly toned body, his wavy locks falling in your face.

It's honestly nothing but the result of an unexpected chain of events. What were you, but a simple girl with too much sweetness in your voice and lust in your eyes? Nothing, absolutely not a single star in the sky, could have foreseen such event. While you do appreciate older guys, it never crossed your mind to go after someone who could easily be your senior by twenty years. The single thought of being with a man closer in age to your parents than to you is enough to draw you away from such big age gap. But all that, all that you trusted to be an unmovable preference of yours; it all went down the drain the moment you laid your eyes on Harasawa Katsunori.

It started with a simple invitation from your university friend. Ever since meeting Satsuki Momoi during orientation, you learned of Tōō High School’s basketball team in their prime – the players, their best matches, and their greatest opponents, almost as if you attended that school yourself and was on the bench during every match, witnessing the plays of Tōō’s basketball team. At some point, you got to meet Daiki Aomine, the prodigious player who was at the centre of most of the things Satsuki told you about her former team. He was quite a sight – tall, dark, and handsome, almost hot enough to make you see past his nonchalance and laziness. And in the following months, you came to meet most of the team – or at least, those who were playing during Satsuki’s time as Tōō’s manager.

A special bunch, you noticed, asking yourself how sweet and soft Satsuki got to spend almost every single one of her high school days surrounded by these guys without going insane. Yet, you couldn’t help but stare at them with softness in your eyes, the bond between these boys being endearing. Growing apart, yet never forgetting each other – their recurrent meetings for a shared meal or drink, and for some reason you’d be there because they grew to like you enough not to mind your presence. Never in your life would you have imagined being hanging out with a bunch of big dudes, fairly intimidating ones at that, only to find out that they were no less of goofballs as any other guy their age. You always watched them with a faint smile on your face, quite like an outsider that knows too much about them.

So it was not much of a surprise when they invited you, in a collective feeling of nostalgia for their high school days, to watch Tōō play at the Winter Cup’s semi-finals. You said yes, although you wished you could have witnessed the boys on the court instead of these new players, but it didn’t feel right to turn down the invitation just for this reason. But all that didn’t matter anyway, the moment you stepped foot in the court. You stood back, blown by the ambiance – the cheers, the squeaking of the shoes on the wooden floor, the balls bouncing on every surface. There you were, in Tōō’s tribune with alumni, mind blown as if you were attending some high-level sports event (wasn’t it just high school basketball?).

“Oh look! It’s us!” exclaimed your friends, as their former team walked in from the lockers.

Your interest piqued, you looked down, meeting the sight of yet another tribe of giant teenage boys, surrounded by the kind of aura that made it clear that this was serious business for them. But your eyes quickly trailed to the man leading them, as if your eyes were meant to see him, and only him. Time ceased, granting you with eternity so you could take in every feature of this gorgeous man. From his wavy locks to the way his striped shirt was so neatly tucked in his dress pants. The tall, slender figure of a man who looked mature, yet so fine that you couldn’t wish that he was younger. No, there was such a charm in the small wrinkles in the corner of his mouth, and the slight bags under his tired eyes that were looking up at you…

Wait. Was he looking at you or is it your brain seeing what it wanted?

“Coach, over here!”

Ah, that made more sense. It wasn’t about you, you were merely a member of the public like others, just standing between his former players. You watched, processing your embarrassment, while he smiled politely in the direction of your friends. You would have melted in place if that smile was aimed at you, but it wasn’t. You sat, looking anywhere but at him. Nothing would kill your soul like him catching you staring like a creep. But the minute he diverted his attention back to his actual players, you couldn’t help the urge. Something about that man, so calm yet commanding, it made your stomach churn and twist.

And so you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him the whole forty minutes of play. Eyes diverting from the court every once in a while, just to see him stare at the game intensely, eyebrows furrowed as you guessed that he was thinking about the next best strategy for his players – not that they really needed to change anything to the way they played, if you referred yourself to the score board. When the final whistle blow, a jaw-dropping 108-65 for Tōō got the whole gymnasium on fire, the first one to express their joy being your friends. Hell, even Daiki smiled, showing a bit of care for his former team. Naturally, you looked back at the gorgeous man at the head of this whole team. He had the slightest smile tugging at his lips, but you guessed that winning was no exception for him. It was impressive.

“Girl, you comin’? We’re going to the lockers.”

You jolted at Daiki’s voice. Not just because he wouldn’t usually talk to you, but mainly because it made you realise how much you’d cut off from reality just to stare at your new crush – if you could only call it that.

“Can I come?” you asked, hesitantly. You weren’t a Tōō alumni like your friends, it felt a bit out of place to meet the team in their locker room.

“If I’m telling you, dummy.”

“Daiki! Don’t talk to her like that!” Satsuki scolded the blue-haired man, before turning to you with the sweetest smile, “of course you can tag along.”

And so you did, totally unaware of were that would have led you. You followed close behind Satsuki, feeling like you would when you were just a kid, attending some function with your parents and hiding behind their frame in shyness. It wasn’t like you, but the idea that you may fall face to face with the coach had you feeling out of your habitual state, like a silly teenage girl experiencing her first crush. But that alone would not be much of an issue – no, it probably was more on the fact that he was old enough to be your dad (well, he’d be a quite young dad if it was the case, but still!). And you couldn’t bring yourself to telling Satsuki – let alone any of the boys – how you felt about their former coach.

A guilty attraction that followed you to a nearby bar you all went to after, the middle-aged man unable to refuse the invitation out of nostalgia, or maybe because he couldn’t pass the offer for a nice glass of whiskey after a championship match. You sat at one end, thinking of yourself free of any awkward interaction with him from that position; oh honey, how wrong were you. It was ridiculous, really. It turned out that a bunch of basketball players needed an awful lot of leg space, prompting them to move around so everyone could be comfortably seated. Almost as if you were the main character to a cliché story, you ended face to face to the man you were trying so hard to avoid.

“It feels weird that you’re all old enough to drink now” he contemplated, swinging the honey-coloured drink in his glass.

Ah yes, right. He knew your friends when they were young and angsty. He was probably a big part of who they were now – the young adults you befriended without thinking much about it. And here you were, a mere stranger at a table of old friends, out of place but not deigning to leave. Somewhat, the thought of him being a mentor to these boys warmed your heart. Something about men being nurturing was oddly attractive to you.

“But I haven’t introduced myself to you, have I?” you blinked, wondering who he was talking to.

It is you, idiot!

You nodded your head, gulping your drink. What were you? Some fool who didn’t know how to talk? He let out a breathy chuckle at your face (probably).

“Katsunori Harasawa, coach of Tōō Academy’s basketball club.”

You repeated the name to yourself, muttering it as you hid your lips behind your glass of liquor. You liked the way his name rolled off your tongue, like a song. He had a pretty name, almost as pretty as he was. You sat there, smiling as you introduced yourself – but there wasn’t much to say. You were a student, Satsuki’s classmate, daughter to normal parents, raised in a quiet neighbourhood. No one extraordinary, not even a fan of basketball. But strangely, it didn’t matter all that much to him.

As the glasses emptied and refilled again and again, and you were way too far gone to even care about how you could be perceived, you might have seen him smile. An ever so charming smirk painted on his rose lips, ones he’d moisture with a gulp of whiskey. He’d let the hard liquor drop down his throat without wincing, and that’s how you knew he was a man way out of your league. It didn’t matter how nice he was to you, despite having no prior ties to you; or how nice his laugh was, when his former players would talk shit. Katsunori Harasawa was a man way beyond your scope, someone you’d admire all night hiding behind your glass, while your heart would pound the minute he looked your way.

And the next morning, all that felt like a dream. A weird hallucination of your infatuation for Satsuki and Daiki’s former basketball coach. Maybe you imagined him – he was way too much to your taste to be real. And yet, your mind kept wandering all day, at the most random times. Thoughts of that dark strand of hair he’d twist around his fingers when yesterday’s match was a tad too stressful, while you brushed your teeth. Thoughts of his nicely fitted white shirt and the tie he’d tug loose when you were out for drinks, while you ate your lunch. Thoughts of his sharp eyes and the small wrinkles that would appear when he smiled, while you were sitting in your 2PM lecture. Thoughts of his fine features, the ones you could stare at for days without ever getting bored of them, while you were buying some eggs.

Just thoughts of him, all day, haunting you to the point where you were questioning your own sanity. It’s not like you, not even in the slightest. For all the people you’d been attracted to in your life, no one had occupied your mind quite like coach Harasawa. And you wondered, what could it be? Was it the fact that he was out of your reach, someone to admire from afar? Or the fact that you couldn’t process your attraction to someone easily twenty years your senior? A swarm of obsession, the kind you were breaking your mind to understand. The kind that distracted you from reality, as you aimed on your way to the station, not even realising that the sky was getting darker. Too lost in your inner turmoil of trying to rationalise your thoughts and feelings, to feel the droplets of rain fall on your skin. It took you being almost entirely soaked, bag pressed against your chest in a poor attempt of protecting its content from the water as you cursed yourself for not checking the weather app before leaving home.

“Need a ride?”

You blinked, not sure if you were hearing well. Usually, you’d walk away in a hurry at any man who would drive next to you asking if you’d want to hop in. And for a brief second, you wondered if it wasn’t just your mind hearing what it wanted to hear.

But it wasn’t. Behind the droplets of rain that fell before your eyes was the man of your thoughts.

“Coach Harasawa..?”

“Come on, you’ll get sick if you don’t get some cover.”

You silently went over to the passenger seat, settling there while you watched the drops on your skin, sliding down to the car mat and leaving a dark puddle under you. The heat of his car was somewhat comforting, till you were reminded that it was his car.

“Do you live far from here?” He asked, eyes focused on the road ahead.

“Two stations away” you spoke, surprised by the sound of your own voice.

It was weird to talk to him, considering how you were thinking till just now that he might have just been a sweet creation of your imagination. But he was very real. You could see him blink, and the way the air conditioner would blow softly on the thin hair on his forearms.

“Come and dry off at my place, then I’ll drive you to the station.”

As all kinds of thoughts rushed through your mind at a speed that exceeded one of your words flow, you tried to decline the offer. It was not right, in anyways, to follow him home. At the back of your head came back the multiple times in your childhood when your parents would tell you not to follow a stranger anywhere. You grew up skittish and with fairly apparent trust issues, at this instant, it wasn’t the case anymore.

“You don’t have to but thank you.” You replied, unable to look in his direction without feeling flustered.

“I can’t let you take the train all drenched, it’s the least I can do.”

You couldn’t argue against him. He was right, in some way. And honestly, you wouldn’t mind drying off a bit. The way your wet clothes were clinging to your body was uncomfortable to say the least, but that wasn’t even the worst. It was the way your makeup was erased by the few drops that fell on your face, and the way your hair got frizzy. And you had to be seen by him in that state. Not that you’ve been the kind to care all that much about your appearance, but it didn’t feel right to look like a mess next to a man who was so well groomed.

And it didn’t feel right either when you stepped in his apartment – so neat and simple, yet homely. It matched him so well, giving the aura of something way too classy for someone who, at the end of the day, was no more than the coach of a high school basketball team. You let your drenched shoes at the door, soggy socks leaving trails behind you as you took each step hesitantly.

“Wait, I’ll give you a towel. Would you want a change of clothes, too?”

“Huh? No need, I’ll head out right after anyway, I don’t want to be a bother.” You urged, clearly out of place in his home.

Your presence felt invasive; you were no one to him. Not a friend, not even a former student. He’d only met you last night, wasn’t it absurd to ask so much from him? For all you knew, he didn’t even remember your name, maybe just your face. He was probably being nice and caring out of his habit of taking care of unhinged teenagers.

“It’s spring, y/n. Evenings are still cold.”

You sighed, a part of you warmed by his words. He sounded like a doting mother, which contrasted with his rather stern look. It was getting harder for you to say no, so eventually, you folded and took the t-shirt and sweatpants he handed you, walking to his bathroom, hoping that you were the only one hearing the thumping of your heart in the silence of his apartment.

It felt surreal, you thought to yourself as you undressed and patted your skin dry. The kind of coincidence you’d only see in a cheesy romance story, far from realistic or even logical. The materialisation before your eyes of the man of your thoughts alone was way too good to be true; but being here, at his? That was beyond your comprehension. The way his pants were barely too big for you reminded you of his small waist, the one held by the sinch pair of slacks he was wearing when you saw him yesterday. Even today, he was wearing a rather formal attire, even a tie. A purple tie that was now hanging loosely around his neck when you walked out of the bathroom, seeing him standing over some papers. It was such an ordinary sight, but every single little detail about it caught your eyes as if you were looking at an artist’s magnum opus.

“Thank you for the clothes and for lending me your bathroom” you said, with a slight polite bow.

It was weird and awkward, and somehow, it made him smile a bit.

“No problem at all.”

He was nice, too nice. Part of you hesitated to be too blunt, scared of appearing rude or too prying to him, but you had to ask, because it might just be better to be honest.

“If I may, why are you helping me out?” you asked, unable to look at him in the face. “I mean, I’m not your student or… anything, really.”

You simply saw his slim fingers on the dark wood of the table, as he put down the papers he was so seriously analysing. You felt bad for a second, heart beating in at an anxious rhythm while you longed for a reply.

“Huh? It just felt right. Besides…” he sighed, pulling a chair out for him to sit on it. “My players like you, don’t they?”

“Is that reason enough to invite a girl you barely know to your place?”

You followed your words with a short gasp, realizing that you’d spilled your thoughts with no second guessing. Crazy enough, in this situation where you had been overly cautious, this might just be the first time you were honest.

“Aren’t you a blunt one?” he raised an eyebrow, following by a quaint chuckle. “Can’t argue with you on that one, though. It isn’t quite my most rational decision, but I’d argue that I still know you a bit.”

“Is that so?” you mused, resting yourself on a chair.

“You’re quite talkative when you drink, you know?”

The flustered look on your face drew a light laugh out of the man’s lips, but to your opinion it was far from amusing. While, yes, you were well aware of the fact that you had a tendency to run your mouth when inebriated, your biggest issue was certainly the possibility of you saying something you shouldn’t have last night. And as you expected him to elaborate on that – potentially digging your grave – he simply got up, pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

“Care to accompany me?”

You chuckled nervously. “I mean, should I? What if I end up saying too much?”

“What do you think that is, some interview?” he clicked his tongue, a glass landing in front of you. “It’ll warm your insides, trust me on this one.”

“Talking just like a dad.”

He scoffed, the sound making you feel just as warm as the liquor that flowed down your throat. He was nice, as much as you wanted to question that, he undoubtedly was. You didn’t feel like letting your guards down yet, but maybe you were too vigilant. Maybe it was the first impression you had of him, when he walked on the court last evening, suit pressed and face stern – dark eyes scanning the court and the way he commanded a bunch of overly energetic boys. Or it was what his relationship to your friends – a mentor or a father figure, someone they trusted and loved years after last being under his care.

So how could you not be scared of him, even in the slightest? How could you not be terrified at the idea of being stupid in front of him?

Well, eventually, you weren’t. Not once you’d emptied your glass, asking him for seconds. You were getting too comfortable, but it started to feel just right the more you got accustomed to being here, alone with him. Comfortable enough to get in his kitchen, determined to give back for his kindness in some ways.

“I’ll make us snacks, can’t drink on an empty stomach my parents say” you hummed, after getting his permission to rummage his fridge.

“How many drinks do you expect to share with me?”

“Hm?” you pouted in reflection, patting yourself as if you were trying to gauge something, “till I’m fully dry, I guess. But I’m only halfway there.”

“You know what? I don’t mind the company.” He nodded, pouring the both of you another drink. “It gets boring being alone sometimes.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend or something?” you asked as you prepared a plate of appetizers, but you were quick to answer your own question. “Ah… I guess you don’t, if I’m here alone with you.”

Your words escaped your mouth without much thought or intent behind them, leaving you both in a lingering silence. For once, he was the flustered one – almost as if your words were projectiles hitting him right where it shouldn’t. You figured you were better off not adding to it, retreating in silence as you walk back to the dining table, nervously sipping on your drink.

“Is that an issue to you?” His voice broke the streak of quiet, forcing you to glance in his direction.

“I don’t have the right to any opinion on your private life.”

He shook his head, a soft chuckle coming out of his lips, “it’s alright, you can think what you want. And by letting you in my house, I’ve kind of made you entitled to judgement, haven’t I?”

“That’s one way of seeing it.”

“So? I feel like you’re an honest one but that you’ve been holding back” he remarked, and you couldn’t argue against it in any way.

He had you figured out, which was no surprise coming from a man whose job was to strategize and read people. You suddenly felt vulnerable, a sense of loss taking over you; yet you weren’t playing any games. It was mostly you, putting things in your head and reacting at the way things unfolded in what felt right – or so you would conclude, after a long series of thoughts that with retrospective, was based on speculation.

“You want my opinion on the fact that you’re single, that’s it?” You cocked an eyebrow, for some reason embarrassed by the request.

“It’s more that I know that you want to say something but you’re not doing it.”

You let out a breathy laugh, taking a sip of liquid courage. Ah shit, I’m gonna say it.

“I’m glad that you’re single. Here, said it.”

You took your breath, heart beating like crazy that you even said it. It wasn’t even a confession, but it wasn’t nothing either. Your words travelled straight to his head, the meaning so clear that you couldn’t even lie your way out.

“I figured.”

The calm with which he expressed himself was unsettling. You were a mess, unprepared and with no exit plan. No one prepared you to this, to the humiliation of your crush, who was significantly older than you, figuring out your attraction for him.

“Ah…” You groaned, slumping on your chair, “this is humiliating.”

“It isn’t. Not at all.”

You didn’t dare look up, but he was there. He was standing, leaning towards your chair. His voice was soft, like a feather that caressed your ears.

“I don’t understand.” You let out, in clear confusion.

“It’s frankly flattering that I caught your eyes. I’m overworked and I dress fancy to tell a bunch of teenage boys how to play with balls. I’m not really a prized bachelor by standards.”

You chuckled, genuinely amused by his words. In some ways, it made you feel better, more at ease in this instant. But you’d argue that he was wrong in multiple way. Katsunori Harasawa was a suave man, one that had such delicacy in his self that you wouldn’t even care about any of the defaults he found for himself.

“Don’t ask me why I like you, I just do.” You looked up at him, meeting his sharp dark pupils, and it made your heart jump.

You couldn’t tell why, but it felt right in that moment to lean in to leave a soft kiss on his mouth. You could cry at how soft his lips were – the taste of honey and cinnamon from the whiskey you were both drinking, and the scent of his perfume coming to you from the proximity of your bodies. And to your surprise, he kissed you back. He did, cupping your face gently and tilting it to the right angle so he could get a better taste of your sweet mouth.

And now, here you are. You can’t even make a sensical thought, not when his warm hands are travelling down your body, lifting your shirt up with urgency. His touch gets you dizzy – too far gone to even question what you are doing. All you’re able to do is tug on his hair, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you cover his face with kisses of all sorts. He laughs softly – how sweet are you, an adorable little thing in his hold. He stands back, taking in the sight of you. Your messy hair, his t-shirt rolled up above your gorgeous breasts, those pretty eyes that look up at him with the kind of need that he hasn’t seen in years.

“Pretty…” he mutters, lips trailing down your neck to your chest, leaving traces in their wake.

You blush – you feel silly, all flustered by the words of a man, when you are the one who initiated all this with a kiss. But you can’t deny the way his hands and lips touch you, proof of the years of experience he has on you. He is smooth in his transitions, the wet kisses you were feeling on your neck mere seconds ago now marking your chest. His breath is hot against your hardened nipples; he is so close, but he still doesn’t get to your sensitive buds, no matter how much they beg for his attention. No, coach Harasawa vows to take his sweet time with you. Your desperate sounds are nothing but a nice song to his ears, the soundtrack to his ministrations that exalts his senses and his cock. You can feel him hard against your thigh, the simple sensation driving you insane.

You squirm, desperately kissing him as your own hands slide down his torso, untucking his shirt from his pants and clumsily unbutton them. His skin is pale and warm, like a tropical beach, and it makes you melt, the way he feels under the pad of your fingers. You trace the outline of his muscles, proof of the carrier as a professional player that he mentioned yesterday. You had no reason to doubt him, but you were far from imagining that his body would have still been toned. It is a delicious mix of softness and firmness, one that you want to cling to.

“Can I touch you, coach?” you ask, tone too innocent for the kind of demand you’re making.

He stands back, unbuckling his belt as he clicks his tongue.

“Don’t call me that, it’s what the boys call me.”

“Are we on first name basis, then?” you question him, helping him out of his pants.

Your palms rest over his bulge, taking in the size of it. Akin a sun, it is a life beating in your hold. He hisses, sensitive – your touch is delicate and curious, and he could melt at the way you look at him with so much need.

“I think it’s totally appropriate given that your hands are on my penis” he replies, following his words with a soft laugh.

You would never peg him for a jokester, but apparently, he has some humour. You giggle – although flustered by the bluntness of his words. He is, indeed, in the hold of your hands, as you stroke him gently. He is a man of composure, but your touch could easily make his resolve waver.

“Katsunori… aah! It’s weird calling you that” you groan, looking away. The way his name rolls out your tongue feels weird, but he couldn’t disagree more.

Every word that falls of your lips is the prettiest sound to be in the man’s opinion, especially his name. It feels intimate, the way you say it. He shivers, grabbing your chin to kiss your lips softly.

“You’re doing a great job pretty, keep going and I might fuck you right away.”

“Ah? I thought you were more of gentleman.”

He chuckles, fingers tangling in your hair and tilting your head back, planting an eager kiss on your lips. The honey and cinnamon taste of whiskey on his tongue melts you, reducing your entire self to a simple being of pleasure. You’re so cute like that, he thinks, a nice girl that wants him, simply. He’s found himself warmed every night by the arms of solitude for so long, that your presence – your body, so close to him – feels like a breath of fresh air. Here you are, the first ray of sun after a cold winter, with your eyes sparkling with admiration and lust, and your hands, soft and warm as they stroke his cock.

“I am a gentleman, but you do make it hard for me to behave like one.” He smiles, fingers delicately angling your face towards him. “You look at me like a starved woman, how long has it been for you, hm?”

You pout, the sight of you like that making the blood course through his body to his hardened cock, throbbing in your hands. He’s right – you haven’t had sex in quite a few months, probably explaining in parts your insatiable thirst for the man; but he shouldn’t have put you in the spotlight like that! You would love to huff and puff, making a fuss for the way he’s got you figured out, but he doesn’t even give you the time to.

Once again, you can’t explain how you’ve found yourself in this predicament. He’s got you on your back, breathing heavily as he rolls your panties down your legs. You want to hide yourself at the sudden exposition, but you fail to. His hands prop your legs open, kisses trailing all over your thighs. What a sight, one of your glistening cunt begging for attention, and Katsunori Harasawa can only think of making it his. Every part of it calls for him – for his fingers, for his tongue, for his cock.

“I’m gonna taste you, is that ok with you, doll?” he asks, breath fanning over your erect clitoris.

The question is unnecessary, the answer is evident. You nod eagerly, a small hum coming out of your lips.

“Ah, ah… wanna here a clear answer.” He urges, leaving kisses on your inner thighs.

You groan, face buried in the palms of your hands as you feel yourself blush like a silly girl. He’s a man, you figure, your weak sounds are nearly not enough for him.

“Yeah... it’s ok” you finally say.

It’s all it takes for him to give you what you crave – at last. His tongue laps at your slit, tasting your sweet nectar and you writhe under his ministration. Your fingers tangling in his wavy locks, pushing them away from his face to look at him as he devours you. It makes you smile between your soft moans, the way this man eats you out with a kind of passion you’ve never experienced. Little do you know, that he hasn’t been with someone for so long. It’s more due to circumstances of life than anything else, but he is indeed a starving man. Seeking touch and warmth in ways he himself wasn’t aware of, until this very moment where he has you writhing under him, your essence on his tongue. He hums at the taste – sweet, like the rarest honey, and your fingers tangling in his hair. He rejoices in the melody of your cries, the wordless pleas for more. What a sweet thing you are, a puddle of desire in his hold.

“Fuck, gonna…”

“Yeah? Let it out, doll.” He coos, pacing his tongue like you want him too, willing to take you to a place of ecstasy.

You whimper, feeling an impending explosion coming. How long has it been, since a man last made you come so fast? It’s blinding, a mirror reflecting white as your thighs threaten to close around his head. He holds them still, watching you unfold as he gives you a last teasing lap – more for him than for you, in all honesty, just so he can get a last taste of you. Under the music of your pants, he stands back, watching you. You’re a sight like no other – naked on his bed, the hills and valleys of your body, an endless land all for him to explore. His cock hard in his hand as finds a condom in his cupboard – it expires in two months, he’s in luck. At the back of your mind, though, you have the dirty fantasy of doing it raw, feeling him in the tightness of your cunt in the most intimate manner. It’s wrong, you are aware of it, but something about the man before you makes you irrational.

“Hey, I’ll push in, alright?” He whispers in your ear while you feel his tip tease your entrance.

“I can take it” you nod, your odd confidence drawing a soft laugh out of his lips.

The flushed look on your face speaks a thousand words, but your resolve doesn’t budge. You hiss at the feeling of his head in between your walls looking at the man over you. His eyes are focused on you, but his mind can only think of the warmth of your pussy. It takes everything in him not to push in his whole length – coach Harasawa isn’t usually a patient man. But with you, he must be. Every second counts, so he can feel more of you.

“You’re doing so good f’me…” he mutters, a sense of pride at the way you take in every inch.

You struggle to keep in the noises that threaten to leave your throat, too embarrassed – who moans from just that? He hasn’t moved yet, but you feel overwhelmed. Maybe it’s that whole situation. The warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne, the locks of hair that tickle your forehead, his grip on your hips. You don’t know, and you don’t care to know either. All that really matters is the way he slowly fucks you, as if you were made of crystal.

“Yeah, feel good?” you mewl.

“Of course, pretty” he sighs, catching your lips in a kiss, “you feel heavenly.”

His praise sends a jolt down your body, cunt clenching in response. He grunts, not expecting your walls to hold him in such a tight grip, and it makes him dizzy.

“You like it when I compliment you, hm?”

You nod, the sparkles in your eyes making his cock twitch. He strategically holds back in his thrust – you feel way too great for him to risk ending this too soon. But that languid pace drives you mad. You buck your hips to meet his, a needy whine leaving your mouth. He laughs; the message is rather clear.

“Calm down, doll, I’ll fuck you right. Here…” he coos, pushing deep enough to knock the air out of your lungs. “Shit! You were made for me, weren’t you?”

He chuckles, drunk on you. It takes a few more thrusts and more of your desperate sounds before his resolves finally breaks. You hold the sheets, mind going blank when he finally gives you what you crave. His thrusts – deep and powerful, make you twitch and squirm. He holds your body tight, in fear of you slipping away; but you aren’t going anywhere. As you sense your orgasm coming, you whine. It’s too soon, it can’t be!

But you are too far gone. Your pants and moans mix with his groans and whimpers, the symphony of your encounter sending you over the edge. Praises fall in your ears – such a pretty thing, taking me so well… good girl, come for me.

“I’m right here, make me proud.”

It’s all it really takes for you to unleash your pent-up arousal, body shaking as you’re washed over by the wave of your orgasm. He fucks you through it, relishing in the way you cling to him. It doesn’t take long till his own release approach. He stills, head buried in the crook of your neck as he lets go of all inhibitions. You gasp, overwhelmed yet head empty.

From that moment onward, Katsunori Harasawa is all you have in mind.

[venus-giirl]

"A enemies to lovers"

Gyutaro Shabana x fem reader.

Fandom: Demon Salyer.

Word count: +1.8K

Rating: fighting, insults, fluff, anguish, enemies, harsh words.

N/A: I'm back, bitches. This last month I've been with final exams and couldn't find motivation to write. So last night I sat down and decided to write an enemies to lovers with Gyutaro, since I saw that the last post had been well liked. Enjoy reading, sorry for the hurtful words, but in this story the two of them hate each other… or not.

THE BOY IS A MONSTEERRRR

The room was dark. School supplies were cluttered all over the space, which was already cramped. Balls, tennis racquets, strings, mats, etc. Everything smelled like gym equipment, covered with the typical layer of dust that was hardly cleaned unless the equipment was being used.

Both of your breaths were labored, breathing hard due to the little air left inside along with the dense layer of dirt. You were angry at the stupid situation you were in.

"You shouldn't have come, it was me who was tasked to go get the mats." he growls in a serious tone, almost sounding like a dog facing his opponent.

"I've already told you a thousand times, he sent me to help you too, the mats are heavy…". you retort.

"I don't need your help, I am much stronger than you".

"You're an idiot if you think a woman can't fend for herself, Gyutaro."

"The idiot is you if you thought you were going to help me with those weak arms." His breath hits your face. It wasn't unpleasant to you, despite his hideous appearance. It smelled like a mixture of mint and body odor.

You shake your head shaking your thoughts away. My goodness, you disliked him for over two grades. He was so cruel and mean to the other students and envious through and through. He was always complaining about those who were better than him, especially in sports.

"Oh my god, you're unbearable, you know that?". You don't know what to respond and the only thing you can think to do is try to vent your anger by making him feel bad. Even though that really wasn't what you wanted, but you couldn't help it.

"Unbearable is your stupid voice and to top it off the door was locked with the keys out because of you, you clumsy girl." He had snuggled closer to you. Although the room wasn't very well lit, because the light wasn't working either, you could see his face with the small solar halo coming in through the small square window located above the wall where Gyutaro was.

His hands had reached your arms to shake you helplessly for the situation. You wince as he digs his fingers in that it almost hurts and you let out a whimper, trying to pull away from him.

"Let go of me, you brute." You fight back, trying to wiggle out of his grip. "I hadn't even seen the keys." When you had entered the materials room you didn't notice that the keys were in the lock, so you assumed that the trainer had already opened the door and that he had them hanging around his neck, as usual.

"Oh, of course. Because the girl is so dumb that even at that she's not able to figure it out." His comments were starting to hurt and tears were beginning to sting the edges of your eyes. You were not going to allow yourself to sink with his hurtful words. If he could insult you with no regard for your feelings, of course you would too. You hated him.

"You are inconsiderate, sarcastic and unbearable." You scream and press the palm of your hands on his hard chest to push him away from your body. "If you were in a different mood maybe we'd be out of here by now." You press your nails into his shirt and manage to rip a button off. He grunts and squeezes you tighter in his grip. Your arms hurt too much. It might even leave a mark on you.

"I didn't need your help!" He yells and shakes you.

"Fuck, Gyutaro, this isn't about help!".

"Then why do you always show up everywhere I go?". His question left you unsettled, blank. In fact, you also had the same feeling of running into him, in the hallways, at the lockers, when sometimes you were late because you overslept, in fights you were always around or even when he was expelled from class for confronting some teacher, you would show up by the punishment room to put some papers.

"What… What? For God's sake, I'm the deputy. It's normal for me to be doing… delegate stuff." You weren't crazy and you weren't chasing him, it's just a coincidence. right?

He laughs in a low, vile tone, not believing anything you say. "And it's also a coincidence that we're here right now?".

Your cheeks were starting to heat up from anger. "Honestly, I'd rather die than be locked in the same room as you." You spit out in a stern tone.

Gyutaro responds with a laugh too unpleasant for you "Dare to say that again and again and I'll break you". The glint of malice could be seen in his gaze. His teeth chattered with every word and his jaw tensed, you almost thought he might snap his teeth from the strain. His grip and his voice were harder and harder.

"Fuck you." You grab his shirt and try to shake him too.

"Oh, I'm flattered, but no thanks." You take a few steps forward and out of sense take a few steps back. You don't want him to touch you. You can't stand it. His touch feels rough and horrid to you. Cold and hard. Painful and… Fuck, stop thinking about it.

"I hate you, I hate you. I can't stand you and you think I'd be after you? Jesus Christ, you wouldn't believe that yourself. From the moment I saw you I couldn't stand you." Gyutaro is silent for a few moments, seconds in which a silent emptiness takes over the room, which, seconds before, had been filled with screams and voices, insults and confessions too painful and cruel to be able to say them to another person.

Seconds in which your body is pushed forcefully backwards. The air leaves your lungs abruptly and gravity takes hold of your body pulling you down. Your back crashes heavily against the mattresses and you feel a large, angry body looming over you. The vibes shook your skin and it bristled at the numerous sensations you were experiencing, fear, terror… But you were not going to show weakness before him. No way, he couldn't see you crying or in a vulnerable state.

Your breaths were agitated, loaded with words that wanted to leave your mouths to hurt again. Hands and legs move, squeeze, and you try to pull away. You sit up, but he places his palm on your chest and sinks you back down to the mattresses. You claw at his arms and groan, trying to overcome his enormous strength. He grunts gutturally and tries to grab your hands again. When he finally succeeds, he spreads your legs apart with his knees and stands over you, his bony pelvis now between your thighs, preventing you from closing your legs or kicking him. You gasp and grunt, arch your back, but nothing, you can't free yourself from him. From his prison. God…you were almost sure you'd never get out of there.

"I hate you you know." Desperate you attack him again with the only thing you have left.

"I know." He replies in a dry tone and smiles showing his menacing teeth.

"I hate your smile."

"I know." He repeats. His face moves closer to yours. Her hair, always messy, now falls around your face, forming a curtain between the two of you.

"And your face, you're so…you're so obnoxious." Your nose brushes against his, his breath hits your mouth and cheeks. If you could sink even deeper into the mattress you would have made it by now.

His weight on your body burned you more and more. "And I can't…I can't….". Your eyes widen as you feel his lips rest on yours. You don't know it at the time, as the darkness prevented you from seeing, but his eyes looked into yours with a glow…an unexplainable glow. His dry, chapped lips encircled yours in a chaste kiss.

Your breath catches and you let out a soft sigh, half-opening your lips. Gyutaro pulls away just an unbearable millimeter and you already feel the cold from the absence of warmth. In an uncontrollable impulse you sit up and kiss him back. You suck in a breath of air and crash your lips against his. Gyutaro grunts in an attempt to control himself and crushes you back against the mat without separating from you, without breaking the kiss again. His mouth opens and he sticks out his tongue to open your wet lips which you open, inviting him in. Your tongues meet, slippery with saliva. Oxygen is depleted as your kiss becomes more intense. Now it has become a war to see which tongue can dominate the other. Your mouths open in a kiss. His breath caresses your right cheek and you tilt your head so you can get more of him.

His hand held the back of your neck. Since when did his hand hold the back of your neck? His thick, calloused fingers curl and pull at it. Your body arches and his body hovers more over you, the mats supporting the weight of both of you. Gyutaro grunts and begins to eat from your mouth as if it were the last meal on earth. You follow his rhythm and you both create a dance, in which your mouths devour each other with anger, rage, hatred and uncontrolled passion. His teeth sting and graze your lower lip. From time to time he gently bites your tongue and curses, in words that crash over your lips, incomprehensible confessions.

You feel and hear Gyutaro's nails digging into the mat and breaking it as he clenches his fists. Your hands now embrace his neck and you pull at his hair, causing him to growl. At an indeterminate point, you become dizzy and can almost feel his pelvis shift between your thighs, searching for something to relieve himself with.

However, the crazy magic of that crazy kiss is interrupted by the jingling of keys and a male voice shouting, "Is someone inside, the door is locked, hello!". Everything falls apart when Gyutaro abruptly pulls away from your body and growls. His weight, his touch, his breathing, his hands…everything is now cold to you. Your mind gradually comes to its senses and you awaken your mind cold again, assessing the matter. You are still there, lying on the mats, trying to calm your breathing and organize the bomb of events in your head.

"Shit…" Gyutaro curses and turns his back on you. Before he leaves he gives you one last look showing his teeth and walks away, leaving his scent, his trail. You hear the professor hurling questions at Gyutaro who ignores him completely, until you stop hearing his footsteps. Your hands rise by inertia to your red, swollen lips and you again hear footsteps running into the material shed.

"T/n, are you okay?" Mitsuri's soft voice sounds concerned, but you don't manage to hear it. Not after what's happened.

"I… I hate him…". You whisper still feeling the trail of Gyutaro's kiss on your mouth.

[thelaughtercafe]

Hello! I'm very happy to found your blog... since you said you accept darker content request... would you mind doing something related to "bullying" with lee kageyama and ler oikawa? I feel like only Oikawa strong enough to bully Kageyama, because Kageyama itself was already intimidating in my opinion... Thank you so much in advance! P.S. please avoid foot tickles hehe

Tea Type: Black Coffee

Potential Triggers: Bullying using tickling, I'm gonna give a non-con warning for tickling too, some trauma responses and panicked behavior

Pairing: Oikawa/Kageyama

Length: 1.6k+

Summary: A chance meeting leads to familiar feelings and anxieties thought long forgotten.

A/N: Hope you enjoy this anon, apologies for the wait! I was a little unsure just how dark I wanted to go with it so it took a bit to finish it but I hope you enjoy the final product! Definitely let me know whatcha think <3

Chance Meetings*

“Is that who I think it is?”

Kageyama froze in place; a long forgotten feeling of dread settling in his stomach. He felt his heart beat faster, heat flooding his cheeks as his eyes darted around, looking for an escape. He knew he shouldn't have gone to the sports store today. If he ran- he just knew he wouldn't get far. Not with him. 

A familiar arm slung around his shoulder and he whirled to lock eyes, still frozen. 

Oikawa laughed, eyes glittering in amusement at Kageyama's shock. 

“I should've known if I'd catch you anywhere it'd be here; heard you've been doing pretty well for yourself nowadays. Your team is pretty good.”

Kageyama nodded stiffly, wanting nothing more than for this to be over with. Maybe if he just told him what he wanted to hear he'd leave without a fuss. He cleared his throat and shrugged off Oikawa's arm, turning his face away as he headed towards the doors, trying to make it look casual. He tried to ignore the lump in his throat as he followed just behind him, a cheerful grin on his face. 

“Yeah, yours too. You're just as strategic as ever.”

“What can I say? Got to keep my opponents guessing~”

He tried not to remember his old encouragement methods, but failed, feeling more heat in his cheeks as he reached his car. He felt the weight in his chest begin to subside, a bit of genuine happiness making a small smile spread across his lips. 

“Sorry to cut the conversation short, I've actually got to meal prep for this week, but it was great seeing you again.”

Kageyama turned to try and open his car door but inhaled as Oikawa leaned over him, one arm over his head, subtly keeping the door closed and drawing his attention back his way. He tried not to flinch at the way Oikawa's once playful, light expression darkened, but only in his eyes. His voice and words remained bubbly. They were still in public after all. 

“Aww but I haven’t seen you in soo long Tobio~ I can help you! You don't mind me tagging along do you?”

Kageyama debated his options, nibbling his bottom lip and came to a decision. There really wasn't one. Oikawa was nothing if not resourceful, and stubborn. If he didn't agree now? He'd just get it worse later. Oikawa had never had any issues biding his time. He'd once said it gave him time to think up more “fun ideas”. For him, of course. 

So, Kageyama nodded with a sigh. 

“Sure, fine, whatever.”

He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably and Oikawa giggled, his eyes lighting right back up at his agreeance and poked Kageyama's unguarded midsection, making him jump and cover his stomach. 

“Aww c'mon cheer up Tobio! We'll have so much fun!”

Kageyama grumbled and got into his car as Oikawa moved over to his own after a cheerful wave to follow him home. 

Once there, things were nicer than Kageyama expected honestly. He helped him meal prep, talking animatedly about setting strategies that he too couldn't help but get passionate about, and their favorite college teams. Kageyama was finally relaxing from being jumpy at Oikawa’s surprise attack earlier when he struck while they were relaxing in the living room. 

Kageyama had sat on the other end of the couch when Oikawa eagerly bounded forward and straddled his waist. Kageyama grappled with him but quickly found himself overpowered, with his hands pinned under Oikawa's legs as he straddled his waist.

Oikawa laughed gleefully and cooed at him as Kageyama glowered up at him. 

“Aww, you didn't really think I'd letcha off the hook, how did ya? What kind of friend would I be if I didn't test your endurance? You know; for old times sake~”

Kageyama's heart beat wildly and he growled, trying to make himself more threatening. It worked on everyone in Karasuno, and even with his current team. Most normal people would've cowered, and apologized- but Oikawa was the one bastard that had never worked on. Not ever since he found out this stupid, downright humiliating weakness of his. 

It was kind of hard to be taken seriously when you were laughing your head off, and squealing like a child. 

“Now where to start, where to start? Any volunteers?”

Oikawa sounded sadistic as ever, eyes scanning his body for the slightest movement now that they were alone and Kageyama discreetly tried to squirm. No dice. He was stuck. Unfortunately he bucked his hips in the process and Oikawa’s eyes lit up. 

“I never took you to be so eager Tobio~ But if you insist!” 

Kageyama threw his head back in mirth as Oikawa drilled his thumbs into his hipbones, making him really buck, for all the good it did him.  

“Hhehehehey! Cut it ohohout, get off mehehehe!” 

“Nah, you must be having fun. Look at that beaming smile you’ve got! So cute~”

Kageyama groaned in annoyance at that, feeling his blush darken. 

“Ugh! I am nhahahahat! I swear when you let me up you’re dehehehead!! You hehehear me!? Dead!”

Oikawa’s eyes sparkled with mirth as he jeered down at him, his fingers ruthlessly toying with his hips before one jumped to scribble at his tummy, his shirt having ridden up from his struggling.

“Oho? Still have it in you to threaten me? That’s not very sportsmanlike of you Tobio! Besides, we both know you’d never be able to overpower moi!”

Kageyama wished he had the strength to fight back, to prove him wrong but tickling had always made him helpless, unable to do anything but laugh. He’d tried to get him back later, give him a taste of his own medicine once, back in college. 

It hadn’t gone well- Iwaizumi had walked in and all chances had evaporated in front of his eyes. Two on one was hardly fair, but seeing the momentary panic in Oikawa’s eyes and the snort he’d let out had been worth it. At least till he had been wrecked to tears for the attempt. 

His struggling finally bore fruit as he bucked particularly aggressively when Oikawa moved suddenly from his hip to the bottom of his ribs, finally allowing one of his hands freedom. He grabbed his wrist, tugging the offending hand up and off of him, panting and glaring. It wasn’t very threatening apparently, as Oikawa merely giggled at him, the fingers spidering along his stomach pausing. He cocked his head at him, brown eyes glittering with amusement.

“Oho? I’m impressed Tobio! You’ve bulked up since our school days!”

The hand at his tummy jumped to his exposed underarm and Kageyama yelped, air leaving him in a rush. Now that’s he’d gotten one of his hands, he had some leverage and strength and knowing he didn’t have much time, he acted. He raised his knee so it was flush against his captor’s side and brought both their hands down against the couch to push off his tricep to turn. Oikawa wasn’t expecting his sudden movements, and tumbled to the ground beside the couch, freeing his other hand in the process. He quickly released Oikawa’s wrist and jolted up, and over him seeking refuge in his bedroom and slammed it behind him, locking it just as a body slammed against it, causing it to jump back in surprise. 

He panted, swallowing harshly, hands trembling as he tried to think rationally. Oikawa wouldn’t break his door down. That was too direct for a scheming bastard like him. His eyes scanned the room for his phone and he felt his blood turn to ice as he realized it wasn’t here. Shit. The banging stopped, and Oikawa’s too sweet voice came through. 

“Aw c’mon Tobio, we were just playing~ I guess you’re a tad more sensitive than I remember. Sorry if I pushed you too much; if you come out, I promise I’ll play nice~”

Kageyama snorted, glaring at the door. He felt bolder, now that he was safe from his old “friend”.

“I’m not the same naive college kid you tormented, just leave, alright? I’m not gonna fall for your sweet words anymore!”

There was stony silence and Kageyama immediately regretted his speaking out, but it was too late to take it back now. 

So instead, he listened, backing up to sit on his bed and try to process. He couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid. Why did he bring him here? Now he knew his address. Maybe…Maybe he really hadn’t changed that much after all. If he was honest with himself, he’d always known some part of him missed Oikawa. For all his faults, his lack of listening sometimes…those good moments were still good. Maybe he was over-reacting-

He shook his head, holding his head in his hands. He was doing it again. Falling back on old habits to cope with Oikawa being in his life. 

“Tobio, I’m going to head out now! I put your meals in the fridge. And…I’m sorry. Really.”

Kageyama looked at the door with wide eyes. Oikawa actually sounded…remorseful. He sounded serious. Still, he didn’t move until he heard his door slam, and even then he held his breath and put his ear to his door, listening for any sign of footsteps, just in case. He twisted the knob and then headed back to the living room, letting out a breath as he realized he was truly gone. 

Everything was cleaned up, his living room just as it was, as if he was never there to begin with. 

He jumped in place at a sound, and his eyes flew to his phone, making him sigh. Just a text message. Stupid body. Why was he still so on edge? 

He grabbed his phone and swiped it open.

His eyes widened and his grip tightened, his other hand moving to cover his mouth. 

An unknown number.

The message?

‘Let’s meet up again sometime Tobio~’

[desicanary]

Some thoughts after finishing the double that I need to expel from my consciousness:

1. I haven't enjoyed a show so much in a while. It had all the drama, and it didn't sacrifice it for the romance

2. Princess Wanning! She killed her dad and I think that was queen shit. She should have killed more people, frankly. She deserves to do so much murder

3. Shen Yurong how I hate you. This man is not only a murderer and a coward, he's also incompetent. None of his plans have ever worked. Mans couldn't manage to successfully kill his wife even if every god were on his side. I loved every time Xue Fangfei did psychic damage to him simply by existing

4. Xue Fangfei! Xue Li! Jiang Li! Xiao Limao! A'Li! Many other terms of address I've missed! She truly is that girl. She is gaslight gatekeep girl boss. She's a girl's girl. She stabbed a man in the dick 7 times. She has the man who once called her a pawn wrapped around her pinkie. When her man tells her he has to get into a political marriage for the nation she says do it then, and then he has to admit he was never gonna. She inflicted +9999999999999 damage on those who wronged her and Jiang Li. She can't fight to save her life (as evident) but can and will confuse her opponent into tripping over their own nonexistent shoelaces

5. I loved the progression of the relationship between A'Li and Xiao Heng. They weren't immediately lovers or friends. They fully used each other until they were willing to be used. The chemistry, the flirting, it's too much and too good. Also, Xiao Heng serves. See: the fans, the fucking gold plated murder fan, a walk-in closet full of capes, the most dramatic entrances known to cdramas, and all the audacity

6. BUT what were the last 20 minutes! They don't exist to me! My buddies Wen Ji and Lu Ji are watching their boss embarass himself at Duke Su's mansion and sharing in the hot goss, to me

7. Plus, I've gotta be missing something about the Longwu army. I do not understand them at all. Not a single one of them would survive the Nuremberg precedent. Not only are they not guided by ethics and morals, they're also not guided by loyalty or revenge or anger or hate or any understandable motivation. Instead, they're guided by a rock carving of a fish. wut. They find out the dude holding the fish works for the guy who betrayed and killed their general, their comrades, and even some of their family. And their response is: "How could they?!?!?! But we still have to listen to them because they have the fish!" Truly what. Someone explain this all-powerful rock fish to me

8. I do think that the Jiangs deserved more. And by more I mean worse. I think Xue Li should have told Jiang Yuanbai exactly how Jiang Li lived and died, and that she hated him for his negligence. I think she should have told the grandma too. They had their hand in this and they deserve to feel the full weight of Jiang Li's life and death and hatred

9. Also Jiang Yuanbai being like "It's not that I didn't know what was going on at home it's just that I was so busy working for the nation uwu". Sir, disrespectfully, no. You had not a clue. And if you did, that makes it worse. Like "Oh no! I'm so busy working that I have no choice but to let my wife frame my 8 yr old for her own attempted murder! The murder of the same stepmom that she, until yesterday, adored! Oh well, I gotta go to work so I'll just let that happen and abandon her for 10 years until politics makes it necessary for me to bring her home! And I'll feel really bad about abandoning her now, but I'll also never believe a single word out her mouth!" Actually, I think he should be hunted for sport

10. Anyway, that got off track! But I love this show, and how even the antagonists have arcs and backstories and aren't countering our girl just cuz. I love the fleshed out characters, all the looks it serves, the drama, and the adorable Wen Ji and Lu Ji and Jiang Jingrui

[uchi-mochi]

You flatter me (Sebastian Sallow x Slytherin!Reader)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Summary; After joining the Slytherin quidditch team it is finally time for your first Hogwarts house party with Sebastian. Overal just two idiots who are in love <3

Warnings: mentions of Alcohol, not proofread

Word count: 2k

Requests are open!

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

House parties at Hogwarts held a strong legacy for themselves - and with every new party the students tried to out do the last one. Every house was competitive when it came to this.

Quidditch had always been a good reason to host one such party - so when the sport was reintroduced in your 'sixth' year it was only a matter of time before all hell would break lose in the common rooms.

The Slytherin quidditch team had a few open spots, Imelda Reyes had practically begged you to join the try outs, specifically for the role of seeker.

"Y/n L/n." Imelda Reyes said in a stern voice. "You have beat literally all of my damn trials in record time. You know a seeker is all about insight and speed!"

You pondered on your decision. Ranrok was gone and the ancient magic depository laid safe under Hogwarts. You would finally have some time to yourself - developing your flying hobby didn't sound too bad. 

"Besides, I heard a certain troublemaking someone is going to try out for Beater" Imelda teased.

"Very funny Imelda" you said, rolling your eyes at her. She playfully hit your side with her elbow. "Fine, I'll try out for seeker. But you owe me fudge from Honeydukes"

Naturally, you crushed the try outs and landed yourself the role of Seeker. Your competition couldn't even come close to your skills on a broom.

You sat down on the tribunes next to Ominis (who had came to cheer you and Sebastian on), opening a bag of fudge Imelda had given you. The tryout for Beater was next. Imelda was right, Sebastian was taking part in the tryouts. You had seen his surprised face when you entered the pitch - you had told him about your hesitation to join the team, but not about your change of mind.

Sebastian's skills on a broom were quite impressive. You watched in awe as he skillfully dodged and countered the incoming bludgers. He was even cocky enough to fly past you, giving you a wink.

You weren't surprised when he emerged victorious, becoming the newest Slytherin beater.

The only tryouts that were left was for the role of Keeper. Sebastian sat down next to Ominis and you after he had changed out of his quidditch gear.

"Didn't know you were going to try out for Seeker" Sebastian said as he reached for your bag of fudge. "Count me surprised"

You put the bag away from Sallows reach. "Hey, that's my well earned bribe!"

"Imelda had to bribe you to get you on the Slytherin team?" Ominis chuckled. "You're easily bribed, good to know"

Sebastian was taller than you, the difference being even larger than it was in your fifth year. He reached over for the bag and (much to your dismay) snatched a piece of the candy. "You know, I wanted to surprise you by making it on the Slytherin team. But I suppose it's even a better surprise to have my lucky charm right on the field with me"

-

Your first quidditch match was against Ravenclaw. "A good warm-up for our future matches" Imelda had said. Ravenclaw wasn't the strongest opponent you could have been out against - and you were very grateful for that. Despite your rigorous training you were nervous.

"Ready folks?" Imelda asked the team, though she didn't wait for an answer as she flew onto the air. You were all lined up for the opening ceremony, having practiced an elegant yet intimidating entrance. "I want to make them shiver before we even score a single point" Imelda had said. "Besides, it boosts morale"

The trick seemed to have worked; Imelda had scored three times before Ravenclaw did. The score was currently 80-30 for Slytherin. This gave you a slight bit of breathing room to find the golden snitch.

You scanned the playing field and spotted a glint of gold across the other side of the stadium. Sebastian flew to your side, hitting an incoming bludger away from you. You muttered a quick 'thanks'

"Seb!" You yelled. "Keep their Seeker busy for just a minute!"

"Got it!"

You flew down into the pitch, focused on that same glint of gold. Sebastian had kept his word; the Ravenclaw Seeker was far behind you, desperately avoiding the incoming bludgers. He was having a hard time avoiding Sebastian's aggressive plays - even being almost knocked out of his broom. Despite how much you loved besting Sallow in a duel, you made a mental note for yourself to never make him an enemy on the quidditch field.

The snitch was only a few centimetres out of reach as it flew under the tribunes.You upped the speed of your broom, skillfully avoiding every pillar and support that came your way. The snitch flew away from under the tribunes, out in the open air. You could spot the Ravenclaw seeker flying towards the snitch from the other side of the pitch. Sebastian had been knocked to the side and put off balance, disabling him for a few seconds. 

"40-80 for Ravenclaw!"

If you didn't act now, the match would be lost. Steering your broom slightly sideways you cut the snitch of - catching it directly in your hand just before the Ravenclaw seeker could catch it.

You quickly flew above the pitch, proudly displaying the golden snitch to the audience.

"150 points to Slytherin!"

-

You walked alongside your quidditch team into the common room, cheers erupting out of your fellow Slytherins as they swarmed around you. The common room had been decorated with all sorts of green decoration, most of them displaying the Slytherin symbol. Snacks, jugs of butterbeer and bottles of all sorts of alcohol were placed on the tables, both muggle and wizard music playing through the room.

You could spot a few shades of reds and yellows amongst the sea of robes - Merlin knows how they got in here.

Sebastian held hold of your waist, hoisting you into the air then spinning you around. You yelped in surprised at his antics, which quickly turned into a laugh.

"To our new Slytherin Seeker and Beater!" Imelda yelled as she raised her fist into the air, more cheers echoing through the room.

"What was that for!" You laughed as Sebastian put you down onto the ground again, playfully elbowing his side.

"What, can't show off our new quidditch legend?"

"Oh please, don't spare yourself the credit"

The crowd slowly dispersed over the common room as the party officially started.

"Care for a drink, Sallow?"

-

One butterbeer had turned into two (alongside a shot of something you didn't know the name of). Your head felt just slightly fuzzy.

Though that couldn't be said for a quite a bit of your fellow Hogwarts students. You had counted at least three brawl fights between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin this evening - which was very entertaining to watch. However, Imelda had promptly kicked them out of the common room.

Sebastian had left for just a moment to grab another drink, leaving you in the company of Imelda and Natty.

"Way to steal the spotlight today!" Natty said enthusiastically as she patted you on the back, holding a glass of butterbeer in her other hand. "I bet that Ravenclaw seeker is going to be sulking for at least a week"

You chuckled at her comment.

"I knew I was right about you" Imelda quipped in as she chugged down another shot. Merlin, that girl could hold her alcohol. "If you keep this up I'll happily buy you all the fudge your heart could ever desire"

"Look forward to our win streak then, Imelda"

You scanned the room for Sebastian. He had been gone for a while now. You spotted chatting with Ominis across the room from you, pouring him a glass of butterbeer. He had definitely gotten taller over the summer - and oh dear, all the quidditch practice had really made him more muscular. You knew Sebastian was handsome, but had he always looked this good in his white button up shirt and those rolled up sleeves?

Imelda followed your line of sight. "Admiring Sallow now, aren't we?"

You whipped your head away from his direction, embarrassed that you got caught.

"Oh please, it doesn't take a lot to notice how obviously the two of you like eachother"

You shot Natty a pleading look in an attempt to get her to back you up, but all she did was shrug.

"Although I have to admit, seeing the two of you pining over eachother has become one of my favorite past time hobbies, it's about damn time one of you confessed to eachother"

You had harbored a crush on Sebastian ever since the trip the two of you made to Hogsmeade at the beginning of your fifth year - his strong wit, flirty comments and protective nature made you fall head over heels for the troublemaker. However, over the passing year your feelings and admiration for the boy had only grown.

"Don't tell me you're scared of asking a boy out on a date?"

"Shut it, Imelda!"

Natty laughed at your bickering. "You have taken down countless dark wizards Y/n!"

"And don't forget about the poachers"

You groaned. "Don't remind me". They were right. How did asking out a boy seem so much scarier than taking down dark wizards? You hid behind your hands, making Natty laugh as she pulled you against her side.

"Tough evening huh?"

You quickly turned around and came face to face with Sebastian Sallow. If your blush wasn't obvious already, it certainly was now. Imelda and Natty giggled at the sight. Imelda shot up from her seat in a hurry, pulling Natty along with her.

"Our turn to get a drink now!" Natty chirped as the two of them rushed off towards the snack table.

You sighed, internally screaming at the thought of Sebastian hearing your conversations. "you could say that, yeah"

Rather than sitting down, Sebastian held out his hand for you. "I haven't danced yet tonight. Care to indulge me?" Your face lit up, gladly taking his hand.

"I'd love too, Seb"

Sebastian eagerly pulled you with him onto the dance floor, laughter erupting from the both of you.

"Ever danced before?" Sebastian asked as he placed his hand on your waist, making you feel as if butterflies were flying through your stomach

"A few times" you said as Sebastian guided one of your hands to his shoulder. Your other hand was still intertwined with his.

"Well don't worry - I'll lead"

The current song ended, a more slow and romantic song taking it's place. The two of you gently swayed across the dancefloor. Merlin did he look gorgeous tonight. You started into his eyes which were full of love and adoration.

"You're a natural" Sebastian whispered as he gently twirled you around.

"You flatter me too much, Sallow"

"You're worthy of all the flattering in the world, L/n"

You couldn't contain your feelings for him anymore. You didn't know where you got the sudden boost in confidence from but it didn't matter. You let lose of Sebastian's hand and grabbed onto the colour of Sebastian's button up shirt, pulling him into a desperate kiss.

Sebastian needed no time react, pulling you closer against him - his free hand now placed in your hair. He kissed you back just as desperately. His lips were slightly chapped, the taste of butterbeer still evident on them. Your hand found it's way onto his cheek, gently cupping it making him deepen the kiss.

The two of you broke apart, gasping in need of air. "I've been waiting ages for you to do that" Sebastian whispered, letting out a shaky breath as he pulled you into another kiss, cheers erupting through the common room at the sight.