#i love this game to bits and it's beautiful and you should play it

[senoleaf]

childhood friends

i saw this photo while playing Undertale Yellow and HAD to draw it in my style, it was very important

here's the in-game original:

[painsandconfusion]

Writers, here’s your reminder that you should be doing warm-ups!

Athletes need to warm up. Musicians need to warm up. Artists need to warm up. Heck, I even have to play a few matches in video games before I get into a groove every day.

Warm-ups help you get into the right headspace, give you more control of your actions and word choice, get you comfortable in your physical setting (eg: with your keyboard, notebook, tablet, or whatever you're writing with), and spark creativity.

Even if you don’t think you have spoons to write, sit down and do a couple warm-ups. If you still don’t want to, that’s alright. But. I think you’ll be surprised how often they help break that ice.

5-15 minutes is all you need. I personally set a timer for ten minutes each time and do not stop writing until the time is up. Your warm-up can be anything at all so long as it gets you writing and starts nudging those creative juices.

Here's some common warm-ups:

Journaling. Just jot down some notes about your day. Feel free to really lean into something that you noticed. We're going for description and details -- try to avoid settling into a spiral or focusing on something negative that will upset your creativity.

Short story prompts. Type that into Pinterest and pick the most ridiculous, cliche thing you can. Write a little scene, story summary, or even a rant about why you do or don't like the prompt. Just write.

Vocab challenge. If you like a bit more critical thinking to get you in the zone, have a random vocabulary word generator spit out five or so words. Check their meanings and jot down a little story or thought that includes all five. You get more familiar with beautiful and descriptive language, and it gives you a much narrowed prompt (which is lovely if you're like me and suffer each time there's an open-ended task assigned).

Character moments. Try putting your character into a generic setting and write down almost meticulously what their thought process would be. Follow them realizing they've just stepped in mud or dreading the start of the day. Pick a mundane thing and describe them working through it. This will not only get your writing going, but it will wake up the character's voice in your head.

Ongoing storytelling. Did you know that Whinnie the Poo was A.A. Milne's warm up story? He would jot down a quick little story with those very basic characters and did so every day. Whatever came to mind. He kept writing little tidbits on the same characters and eventually it turned into a series. Having that ongoing plot with isolated scenes and simple characters can help you feel more motivated to sit down and write.

Get-to-know-you-questions. Google a list of basic first-date questions (there are a million out there) and answer one yourself. Go into specifics. Where do you most want to travel and why? Let yourself ramble until the question is fully answered.

Writer's block blues. This is a favorite of mine. If you're truly stuck, write about being stuck. Eg: 'I'm supposed to write for ten minutse, but that feels so stupid and impossible. No one is goign to read this anyway. I have no ideas and the page is so overwhelming when its blank. I used to be able to write on and on and nothing could stop me. it was like breathing. but now I have nothign and do nothing and I can't even do a stupid prompt-' Even the rambling and ranting got me writing. It made things easier. It made writing this post easier. Also -- notice the typos? Yeah, don't fix those. You're in writing mode, not editing mode when you're doing this. If you edit while you write, you're forcing yourself to stay in your executive and calculating headspace rather than falling fully into creativity and dream. Ignore the mistakes. That's for future you to handle.

I've officially rambled far too much, but I hope that helps even a little bit. Live well and write often, my friends. Best of luck to you <3

[girl-lostconnection]

Concept of a concept time:

Reader who goes through the whole relationship with Ghoap or the whole 141 believing that they would always come second place, because of course Simon would burn the world down if Soap was taken out of it. Of course, Price would do everything and anything to save Simon. Of course, Simon would turn into monster if it meant keeping his family safe, keeping his TaskForce safe.

Of course, Kyle would go mad with grief if he was to lose Johnny. Of course, Kyle would become a shell of himself if he lost Price.

Of course they would all shatter without each other alive and well. It was obvious. It was a fact.

Reader who sees it and places themselves on the outside of it, because these men were already something before they came along. These men were already tight knit and close to each other.

These men were already family when Reader got dropped into their laps. It’s only natural they don’t really slot fully. There’s just no more space.

Reader who takes every bit and crumb of an affection they are given. Reader who gives away everything. All of them. Every kiss and confession, every hug, every bit of love and care they have. They give it all, because yeah, maybe they will never be a part of these 4. But they can be near and maybe…maybe that’s enough?

Reader, who dies. Not instead of Soap, not instead of anyone. They just don’t come back from the job one day, their foot locker was supposed to be shipped out to the family. But there is no family.

So 141 takes it. Who, if not them, right?

Reader, who dies and haunts the narrative from that point on. Reader who leaves a hole the size of a person and no one can fill it. It’s impossible.

Reader, whose warmth was seeping through them all for so long, the absence of it feels like a whiplash. The absence of it feels in their bones and it’s cold-cold-cold now. Their hearth dies and there is nothing to do about it but keep going.

Soldiers die every day, this one shouldn’t have been special. But they were.

Kyle who takes their personal things before someone else can come and toss them out, sleeping with their T-shirts and hoodies. Part of him dies with Reader. Part of him is getting buried with them. He’s sitting at their funeral until Price leads him away.

Simon who takes their photos and books, hiding them, keeping them safe. He needs to have it, because memory is traitorous and one day he might not be able to put a face to the name and he’s terrified of it to the point of feeling sick.

Soap who takes mementoes — keychains and magnets from all of the deployments, he takes every knick knack they found in the foot locker and Reader’s room, he stores them next to his. There are new keychains on every set of his keys. He’s fumbling with them every time he feels like there’s knot in his throat and he can’t speak.

Price gets the notebooks. Just a few of those were in a footlocker, filled with scribbles and meal plans and random quotes and games Reader played with Kyle during boring briefings. But it feels like them. It smells like them. Reader never wrote a consistent diary, too little time and too much going on, but they notated the places and times and that Soap coughs like a sick Victorian child and that Kyle has the most perfect beauty marks on his thighs and that Price sneezes like dad and that Simon sleeps with lamp on.

It is everything there was of them. Everything there’s left of their love and John isn’t sure he’d be able to part with it. It isn’t fair that it happened like that. It isn’t fair that he feels like destroying his whole office when he reads the “im not sure i fit in. on the bright side I reckon if something was to happen to me, no one would mourn too long. they have each other, I should be happy it is like that. I should be grateful” because it’s not fair-not fair-not fair-not fair.

John doesn’t show these diaries to anyone. John guards them like his most prized possession, reading it over and over because you, silly perfect thing, why haven’t you said anything. Why haven’t they noticed anything.

John doesn’t show it to anyone because he’s not sure if they won’t crumble under the notion. He’s not sure they won’t shatter when the rest find out that Reader died thinking they weren’t part of the family.

John sobs so hard, bile rises to his throat, world swimming in his eyes and it hurts, and he’s so fucking angry and it’s so unfair. Because it’s not true, because of course you were part of them, of course you matter, of course they mourn.

Because you die never finding out how much you were loved. Because there’s nothing he can do.

And it’s not fair.

Continuation

[sttoru]

⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. a relaxing day at the beach w/ toji ‘n little megumi, accompanied by their usual bickering and precious moments

tags. dad!toji x wife!female reader. fluff. honestly just the beach episode toji deserves w his family t_t not proof read!

the beach is a beautiful place to rest after a tough week. toji lays on the towel besides yours, bulky arms resting behind his head as he enjoyed the gentle breeze, the smell of the sea mixed with his wife’s perfume.

the peace is quickly disturbed when he feels a small fist claw at his mouth.

“‘gumi, don’t feed papa sand,” your muffled laughter echoes through the busy beach. you watch your husband attempt to fight off megumi’s tiny hands as they pry his lips apart.

toji grunts and moves his head multiple times, but the toddler is determined to get what he wants. “brat—” the dark-haired man scoffs while his hands wrap around megumi’s torso, lifting the little boy in the air as his final resort, “what’s this all ‘bout? wanna kill y’r daddy or sum?”

your son pouts and furrows his brows. “no, i made papa food. burger,” he defends himself and kicks his legs while being held up at arms length. megumi’s tiny fist full of sand manages to reach his father’s lips again, “now papa eat!”

toji lifts megumi up higher, as far away from his face as possible. he takes a second before realising that he indeed had made a request for a burger just moments ago, when his son asked him what he should make out of the sand.

toji totally forgot to play along with megumi’s pretend restaurant game, thinking the boy would halfway forget about it anyway. children’s attention spans are short after all.

seems like his kid is an exception.

“i ain’t eatin’ shit, boy,” toji grunts and turns megumi away, putting the boy back down in the sand between the two beach towels. you’re about to reprimand your husband for his behaviour before your child interrupts.

“this not poo poo!” megumi jabs a finger at his father’s chest, his voice a bit louder. he’s taken great offence to the comment about his imaginary burger, which was now but a cluster of sand particles.

toji snorts and gently flicks megumi’s hand away, “yeah, it is. bet it tastes like ‘poo poo’ too.”

“no! not poo poo!” megumi’s voice rings out before a frustrated whine leaves his lips. his little hands land on toji’s abs, physically punishing him for saying such mean stuff about his hard handiwork.

your husband sticks his tongue out childishly at his sulking son. “‘yes! yes ‘tis poo poo!’ keheh,” toji mocks megumi’s high voice, snorting as he laughs about his own joke afterwards.

the father-son duo bicker for a few more seconds before you sigh and speak up. “can you two just get along for once now? we’re in public, so behave,” you scold them as their voices seemed to get louder. you then glare at your immature husband. he could be such a man-child when it came to arguing with his son, “and you— you’re an adult, so act like one.”

the two of them instantly shut up and their heads turn towards you, their hands that were wrestling with each other also stopping mid-air. megumi pouts and stops attacking his father with his tiny fists. the little boy knows better than to not listen to his mother.

in turn, toji huffs and grumbles something under his breath before grabbing his son to make it up to him.

neither does the grown man dare to defy his wife’s demands.

“yeah, yeah. c’mere, son,” toji responds and places the toddler on his chest, letting the kid rest against him. megumi surprisingly doesn’t pull away and instead curls up in toji’s warm embrace. as much as the two love to (playfully) fight, they also get along extremely well.

you smile and relax back on the palms of your hands. “much better,” you hum in content. your heart swells with affection for your two favorite people on earth. megumi is a carbon copy of his father and it’s the cutest little thing ever.

they both have that subtle pout on their lips as they accommodate to being close and cozy with each other again.

toji runs his callused fingers through megumi’s hair, sighing as he closes his eyes. he doesn’t admit it out loud, but he cares for his kid. if he had to make a choice between either saving his own life or megumi’s, toji’d instantly draw his last breath.

“he’s still a brat,” your husband grumbles to you, sharp eyes watching the way you coddle and coo over the toddler. megumi’s chubby cheek is smushed against toji’s chest and it was an adorable sight. you giggle and capture it on your phone.

toji scoffs, but can’t help the grin tugging at the corner of his scarred lips. he gently rubs the child’s cheek with his knuckles before continuing, “but he’s my brat. ain’t that right, boy?”

megumi lets out a small, soft grunt at his father’s words. the kid is completely silent, content with the way things had played out. perhaps this is what he secretly searched for as well— to receive toji’s attention and a glimpse of his affection.

“aww, how cute!” your smile is beaming as you snap another picture of your family. toji’s soft look is perfectly captured on your phone, with him gently touching megumi’s chubby cheek as the boy laid on his bare chest. pure domestic bliss.

you sigh and look away for one second to change the lockscreen on your phone. humming, you go to your settings and instantly put the picture of your husband and son as your wallpaper on nearly everything.

you tilt your head back only to find toji grinning from ear to ear now, going from gently rubbing megumi’s cheek to full out squishing them between both his hands, amused at the way the fat moves. “kehehe, look at ‘em,” he chuckles.

the little toddler eventually gets fed up with it after squirming and grunting. megumi brings his little fist up—the same one that still had some sand stored from before—and lets the content fly all over toji’s face.

megumi giggles and scrambles off toji’s lap with a victorious grin. he points at his father who’s struggling with getting the sand off his face, the man sputtering and grumbling. he sticks his tongue out, “tha’s papa’s burger.”

you watch as your son waddles over to you and hides into your arms, muffled laughter echoing in your ears. seems like megumi won the battle in the end; successfully holding onto the sand he was planning to feed his dad one way or another.

toji spits out a bit of sand that flew into his mouth from the kid’s surprise attack, “you little shit—”

well, there goes the peace again. you shake your head, but let the two play and fight it out on their own.

. . . just another day in the fushiguro family.

[pisceantarot]

⋆ ｡  𐀔  ° ‧     what type of celebrity would you be?

PICK A GIF AND DISCOVER... why do your fans admire you? what makes your energy so captivating? would there be any scandals? 🤭 a fun reading to see what type of celebrity you'd be!

                      ꕤ * ．   pile one.           →           ꕤ * ． pile two.

                      ꕤ * ． pile three.           →           ꕤ * ． pile four.

relax your body, close your eyes, and take a deep breath. ask yourself: "which pile has a message for me today?" when you open your eyes, what image did your eyes fall on? what image do you feel most drawn to energetically? that's your pile!

this reading is timeless! it will cross your path whenever it's meant to find you 🍀 this reading was made with the purpose of giving you a confidence boost! perhaps this energy will inspire you to channel your inner star 💫 you deserve to be seen and admired, that's for sure!

PILE # 01 : JENNIE

you walk into a room and people just sense your stardom. you command respect, but not in an imposing way. no, you do so quietly (from a place of utter self-love and self-respect) and people admire you even more for this! you're quite smart, you play the game well. i see that you can be very strategic and easily sense people's intentions with you. this is your gift! your intuition will always lead you down the road of success. you'd have an unshakeable sense of self, yet are always ready to evolve and be ahead of the curve. no one would do it like you, that's for sure! (i'm hearing that you don't even play the game, you make the rules. definitely it-girl/a-lister vibes!!)

you have the energy of someone who'd be a great influencer! you're a trendsetter, you'd wear/promote something and the following week 50 micro-influencers are wearing the exact same outfit. people would have pinterest boards filled with your pictures!! i'm hearing that you could sell scraps of paper and people would still fight for it just because your name is associate with it... your fans would be very passionate about you, writing essays in the comments defending you 😭 but i also see that you'd be the type of celebrity that people just know. if you were a singer, for example, even if people didn't know your songs they would still recognise your beautiful face<3

it's very lonely at the top, though. i'm sensing this pile might be a little bit more sensitive, and it makes me feel very protective over you 😭 it's funny because i see this pile being disillusioned by fame very quickly. you'd hate the backstabbing, the hit pieces, the superficialness of those around you (despite loving your craft). there could be fears of being misunderstood, the pressure of perfectionism weighing heavy on you... you're born to be a star, but the way everyone wants a piece of you doesn't feel quite right...

channeled message based off of this energy:

spirit wants you to know that you can be your authentic self. your voice and words will resonate with so many people!! if you want to be a content creator of any type (or if you want to create/become an artist), i see that your path to fame won't be paved by anyone else before you. no, your path is unique. you should follow your own intuition when it comes to your career and do what feels most aligned, because no class or mentor will provide you with any meaningful answers 😭 while this path might appear isolating and frustrating, make sure not to drown yourself in loneliness. don't compare yourself to others when you're meant to be on a whole different level! just focus on your own projects and development, and things will align the way they're meant to be!

PILE # 02 : SABRINA

oh, you're so incredibly charming<33 you smile and people just fall at your feet! they can't help but feel giddy and swoon at even a fraction of your attention... the power you hold, pile 2! you're a force to be reckoned with, i heard this very clearly... as a celebrity i see you being very determined to succeed. you have your eyes set on the prize and you refuse to back down. you're the type who built themselves from the ground up, and this is something to be proud of! your hard work paid off and everything you earned would be rightfully deserved.

people might have the tendency to underestimate you, though. they look at you and think you're harmless... but then you go and prove them wrong by blowing them away with your talent... you made them look like a damn fool for ever doubting you, that's for sure 😔</3 i love the energy of an underdog here, it makes people want to root for you!! when people first look at you, they might not expect you to be as talented as you are. so when you finally show them what you're made of, they're just absolutely dumbfounded that they didn't notice you earlier. i see you playing into this misconception and using it to your advantage, though! i just heard elle woods say: "what, like it's hard?" loveeee this

your fans would absolutely adore you, fanservice would be something that's very natural to you! i don't see you hating this either, you really enjoy casual interactions with people who support you. you'd be a very grounded celebrity, too!! you don't let the fame or the money get to your head, because you know where you started and how long it took you to get to the top. you don't lose yourself in the chaos or the hate or any fears... quite the opposite, actually!! you use it as an opportunity to get even stronger and wiser! love this attitude<3

channeled message based off of this energy:

this pile is very lucky because i'm seeing many (unexpected) blessings heading your way! your next era in life? sitting back comfortably while you watch your heart's desires unfold in front of you. i see a big manifestation coming in, your hard work finally paying off!! very abundant energy, i'm very excited for you<3 spirit wants you to know that you've earned these blessings, that you've come a long way from where you were before. this period of your life is really about thriving rather than surviving. very beautiful energy!! (i also heard that, if you're facing any issues, that they will resolve themselves. just trust your guides and watch how your problems disappear into thin air!)

PILE # 03 : LILY-ROSE

ohhh, you'd definitely be an enigma! people will love this about you, but it will also frustrate them. you have strong boundaries about what the public is allowed to know about you. (i'm sensing vibes of not having any big social media presence, being annoyed at interviewers when they ask intrusive questions about your personal life rather than the project you worked so hard on, no one knowing who you're dating, etc...) yet you're always invited (having front row seats, mind you) to all the big events. (your fans might receive scraps from you but... if they do get something, they absolutely devour it!! even in 2025 they wouldn't be able to shut up about that beautiful haute couture dress you wore in 2021 😭)

there's a sense of intrigue and mystery surrounding you, because no one knows a thing about you yet everyone is always captivated by you. i'm sensing siren/dark feminine type of energy. very seductive! you teasingly play things off with a shrug and a million dollar smile like "wouldn't you like to know?" you'll never reveal yourself to them because 1.) you loooove being seen as a mystery 2.) you find it absolutely hilarious to keep people guessing and 3.) they don't deserve this type of access to you.

people never know your next move and this is your power. i see people really admiring your talent (and knowledge)! you're the authentic celebrity where you're in it for the love of the art rather than the fame and the fortune (even if it's a nice bonus!). you're the type of celebrity that studies the history of whatever field you're in and are well versed in different genres, admiring and respecting many great figures who came before you. you don't care about what people think of you as long as you are satisfied with the outcome of your project. this is very mature and attractive energy!

channeled message based off of this energy:

you're hard to read, i won't lie to you 😭 if you've been working on setting boundaries i really see that this is something incredibly beneficial. you're comfortable in your own energy, and this is very seductive! if you have the tendency to be overly critical of yourself, i'm hearing spirit say that you might need to be less demanding and kinder towards your body. you have a tough outer shell, i don't think you're the type to easily open up to people. this is a good thing! just make sure that you aren't pushing people out who mean well. you can be vulnerable with the right people and have it be a safe experience!! you deserve to be taken care of (i'm feeling like i just want to pamper you) and experience the softness of life!!

PILE # 04 : SHAY

you'd definitely be your celebrity's favourite celebrity! you move in silence, but once you make a sound... boy, people are ready to drop everything in order to pay attention and listen! your fame isn't bombastic or over-the-top. it doesn't need to be, because people respect you. you command respect through your raw authenticity. you're not a manufactured doll who needs to put on a whole spiel in order to appear interesting. you don't need to do this because your talent speaks for itself. this is very potent energy!

what i'm picturing is a musician standing on stage with only a microphone and a guitar. you don't need a big show or any grand gestures to capture people's attention, they're willing to give it to you just because you're you. you might have striking features, i'm sensing there's a beauty about you that's just sooooo mesmerising. (i'm feeling like i want to get lost in your eyes... feeling a bit shy...)

people would absolutely root for you (i'm sensing the vibe of people being absolutely outraged if you happen to lose a grammy or an oscar or whatever prestigious award 😭 and it's not just your fandom, several different fandoms would be banding together to express their anger). this is simply because they know you're the best of the best. you worked hard for everything you achieved, you don't need scandals to keep your name relevant, and you always show up! this is what people love most about you, the fact that you always show up at the top of your game without any complaints<33 you paved the way for everyone behind you, too!

channeled message based off of this energy:

god, i wouldn't be surprised if this pile went through hell and back. i really see you coming back stronger every time something (or someone) tries to bring you down. nothing fazes you anymore, you just take it on the chin and move on. spirit is telling me that difficult times are about to end soon!! you will find peace and you will find comfort within yourself (and your environment). i'm hearing so clearly that you always got your own back, but spirit wants you to know that they got your back as well! you're born to succeed simply because of who you are. once you truly embody what you know you deserve, i see so many opportunities bringing you great abundance!! know that you don't have to fight so hard to get what you want, practice being in a state of receiving rather than chasing<33

[jjjjisun]

My Playmate, My Sister

Hanni X Male Reader | 8566 words

TW: Incest

—

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

—

Buy me a Ko-Fi.

Book commissions here.

—

I'll be honest, growing up with a sister like mine was no cakewalk. It was abundantly clear that my sister, Hanni, was destined for some form of modeling from the moment she started developing her killer body in her early years. All throughout high school she had the attention and longing gazes of every boy, man and even some women there. As I went through my freshman year, lusting after any bit of female I could grasp, I was constantly teased about my senior sister's looks and how much every one of my friends would love to "bang her."

Now I won't lie and say I didn't notice; after all, I was in the peak of my sexual desires too. However, my thoughts never strayed beyond the occasional hope to see her coming out of the shower or undressing in her room. I did get a peek every once in a while, but it was all innocent and never got out of hand. Luckily for me, Hanni was incredibly wholesome and modest about her looks, having a few lucky boyfriends here and there but largely displaying her beauty in tolerable amounts. So even though I had to stare down or ignore someone for the occasional comment about Hanni's "hot ass and tits," I never felt embarrassed by any of her actions.

I suppose I should probably tell you what she really looks like. Aside from a body that looks to be sculpted from marble, she is about 5'3" weighing just over 100 lbs. She has 24" waist and from inspecting some of her more seductive lacey bras in the laundry is done I know her breasts measured a full 32C which I wanted nothing more than to at least any chance I could get. She has the most gorgeous eyes, more green than hazel, framed by a cute, freckled face and tiny chin. To top it all off she has the perfect shade of blonde hair with dark streaks, which she wears in a variety of styles mostly with long bangs swept across her face.

Unfortunately, in high school I was a shrimpy little kid, never really breaking 130 lbs. until my senior year, when I finally came into my own. So when Hanni brought her usual slough of beautiful friends around, I was always just her little brother to them. It didn't matter to Hanni though, she was a bit nerdy like me and was always willing to play a video game or two or watch a movie late at night. She even got me with a few pretty girls if she knew their older sister or invited me to a party she could maneuver me around. She and I got along well, and even though we didn't interact much at school, we have always been good friends. After she went away to college across the country we separated a bit, but whenever we were both together we were thick as thieves.

But things changed for her early in Hanni's Junior year of college. As I walked through a convenience store on my way to the train home from school, I caught the top of a Playboy on the clearance rack behind the counter.

"I'll be damned if that doesn't look just like Hanni's face," I thought, not even realizing what that would mean if it really was her.

I asked for the copy, and after I showed my 19 year-old driver's license to the cashier and a sideways glance, he handed it to me. The photo on the cover, now many months old, was definitely in Playboy's usual style, airbrushed and photo-shopped to an almost unrecognizable degree, but I was 95% certain it was my sister. She was body-painted in the same colors as her college, Oregon State, and displaying what I had always known to be her fan-fucking-tastic form. I had no time to dwell on it, however, as my friends were all waiting so I shoved the Playboy into my backpack, paid and headed outside. I could barely focus on getting to the train and then home, and I don't think I said a word for the whole ride to my stop 30 minutes away.

I was in shock; "would Hanni really do that? She's always been adventurous but this is totally different," I thought.

When I finally got home I made for my room as fast as I could after a quick catch-up on the day with my Mom. As I pulled out the magazine and that's when I knew for sure, the beauty on the front cover was my sister. I thumbed through the pages and opened up to a her spread, not even thinking of the taboo implications. There she was, for all the world to see, and what a sight it was. She was going by the name Hanni Jean Underwood, obviously not the same as our family name. She was every guy's wet dream, clearly the best looking in the entire magazine, and she was my sister. I had to say it in my head a few times before it really set in, and after a cold shower I pulled out my phone and decided to text my sister.

"Hey Hanni, anything new," I wrote.

A few long minutes later, I received:

Hanni: "Nope, nothing really, I'm coming home Friday, a week early for summer, though!,"

Me: "That's cool, is something going on?"

Hanni: "Just felt a little overwhelmed is all."

Me: "Anything you want to talk about?"

Hanni: "We can catch up when I get home in a few days, okay?"

Me: "Sure, I miss you."

Hanni: "Miss you too!"

Soon enough it was Friday and I was nervous to see my big sister so soon after the recent development. I decided to do a little research online, and I wasn't prepared for what I was about to see. A quick search of her name brought a whole bunch of results, at least three photo shoots - all stemming from the fact that she had apparently been crowned playmate of the month in July. I clicked on each gallery and scanned the page, seeing my sister laid out in a bunch of unbelievably sexy poses in all states of undress. I couldn't help it, the pictures were turning me on. I imagined her laid out on the window-bench in my room, looking at me straight in the eye as she pulled her top off, light glancing off her just like it did in the pictures. In my daze I didn't even hear the sound of my sister clamoring up the stairs, and then standing at my open door, seeing clearly what I had found.

"Okay, now I know what that text was about," she said as I clicked out of the browser at the speed of light. "No point in pretending now, we obviously are going to have to talk about this."

I just stared at her, she was different than the last I saw of her about 8 months before that. She was tan, her hair was better than it had ever looked, and she was in the best shape of her life. Even her clothes were thin and more revealing than ever, and after looking at the pictures on my computer, I realized I would never see her the same again.

"Come here and give me a hug first, I've had a long day of travelling," she said with fatigue thick in her voice.

At 19 years old, I was a full 6'0" and taking good care of my body had left me at 180 lbs. with a decent shot with women. I walked up, towering over her now, and she sank into my arms. Maybe it was what I had just seen on the computer, her clothes, or maybe it was something she was doing on purpose, but every part of her seemed to be pressed against me. I could feel the swell of those amazing breasts pressing against my chest, and my hands around her felt a toned backside most girls dreamed of.

"You've really grown," Hanni said, leaning most of her weight into me as she ran her hands innocently over me.

We hadn't seen much of each other the previous summer as she was working (at Hooter's I later learned) near her school in Oregon. That and the 8 or so months of school had given me plenty of time to grow, gaining an inch or two and a ton of manly muscle, if I didn't say so myself.

She moved away from me and looked into my eyes, saying "I need you to be calm about this, and to please not talk to Mom or Dad about it until I'm ready."

Still slightly aroused, I pulled myself together, "Okay, but you have to tell me all about it at least."

She eagerly agreed. We sat in my room, the loving brother half of me paying attention to her story of how she was found in a little Playboy talent search I had seen on the cover of that fateful magazine and how the feedback on her first photos was so good they decided to make her Playmate of the Month. The other half of me could not stop thinking of what I had seen and how this beautiful specimen in front of me could be seen by anybody in the heart-stopping galleries online, and that she was my sister!

"...so what do you say?" I snapped back in. After a short pause she knew I hadn't heard the question.

"I know this is a lot to handle, but let's just do our best to act normally around each other, okay Oppa?"

I agreed of course, and she hopped out of my room, her sculpted little butt swaying a bit as she turned and shot me a slightly mischievous smile.

All things considered, it was pretty normal around the house for the next few days. Our parents were rarely around, busy with their work or fairly hefty social lives, so I didn't have to deal with blurting out our secret to them. Hanni was out visiting friends during the weekend and I was studying for finals, albeit occasionally distracted by the fact that I had a Playboy Playmate living under the same roof. One night as I studied for a relatively easy exam the next day, Hanni came in and we talked for hours, her in tight white tank top and some tiny shorts, teasing me, maybe not so unintentionally, the entire night. She told me she had dropped out a few months ago because things were going so good with Playboy. Then she began to talk about her love life, something that had never really been off limits with us. It was obviously different now to talk about love and relationships and sex, for my mind kept straying to what a man might do with a girl like my sister in the privacy of their own room.

"I can't relate to any of the guys I am meeting, they all are kind of slimy and just want me because of my photos. I miss being with a guy who might actually care about me, and I miss the sex too," she said, blushing and looking down, missing the wide-eyed look I had on my face.

I told her about some of the girls I had dated, and even noted a hint of bitterness as I named a few girls she apparently didn't approve of. She curled up in my arms as we talked through all of the changes in both our lives and we fell asleep together, laying a comfortable distance apart.

When I awoke I felt like a million dollars, warm and cozy and ready to get up and shower before my test. Slowly waking I realized the coziness came from the gorgeous girl I was now tightly spooning and who had wrapped herself around one each of my arms and legs. It was both loving and arousing, and I realized my hand was gently resting in the middle of her perfect chest. I tried to slowly move out of position but she only latched onto me more, pushing my hand further into her soft, cotton-covered breasts. I knew it was only a matter of minutes before I hardened fully and she would easily be able to feel it. That worry disappeared as she closed the space between us and nestled her tight bottom right over my shaft.

"Mmmmmh, good morning Oppa," she said softly, wiggling a bit as she turned her head to look at me.

It was excruciating to resist the urge to thrust forward between her cheeks. There was that suggestive smile again.

"I haven't felt this relaxed in a long time, I am so glad to finally be back," she whispered.

"How long will you be staying? Are you going to have to leave for any more shoots soon?" I asked quietly, trying not to move or address the fact that I was aroused by my sister.

"Actually, there is talk about making me Playmate of the Year, but I don't think I stack up to the competition. Either way, I have another shoot in a few weeks," Hanni said, turning to face me and finally relieving the pressure on my growing problem.

I paused, appearing deep in thought, "Yeah, I wouldn't count on it." I said sarcastically, making a funny face at her as her mouth dropped, insulted.

In mock anger she rolled on top of me, battering my chest with playful blows as she straddled me, both of us laughing as I grabbed her wrists with one arm and tickled her always sensitive sides with the other. As she twisted to avoid my prying fingers, her hips ground lightly down on my still slightly enlarged member, and I could hardly focus on the tickling for all of the pleasure it was causing me.

The wrestling intensified, both of us breathing hard between laughs and feeling her lithe body against mine. Our play continued, and I rolled on top of her, pinning her to the bed with her hands above her head. Her tank top had ridden up by now, revealing a mouth-watering abdomen and her bottoms were scrunched up towards her waist. She panted beneath me and arched her back, trying to push me off of her and once again forcing herself against my engorged cock. Still holding her down I moved my mouth to her abdomen and blew, making a funny sound like I used to when we were just kids. The subtle scent of her body wash and perfume lingered and she squealed as I rubbed the morning whiskers of facial hair on her smooth skin.

Displaying that she had obviously been working out, she somehow gained leverage over me and flipped back on top, her legs interlocked with mine, straddling my thigh. I could swear I felt faint yet rhythmic thrusts against my leg with her nimble frame squashed against my chest. I could feel her warm breath on my ear and she finally sat up raising her arms in victory as I gave up, exhausted. If I hadn't been so entranced with our arousing battle, I might have noticed her nipples standing proudly and entirely visible through the soft cotton of her tank top.

Our horseplay ended, and as I looked up at her with her abdomen and firm breasts heaving from our tussle, I knew then that she would undoubtedly win Playmate of the Year. It was almost as if she read it on my face, because she gave me a little peck on the lips and hopped off, maintaining the innocence our little slumber party had began with. She had the walk of an angel and she once again smiled at me as she bounced out, swinging around the frame of the door and out of sight. I laid there for a few minutes, trying to pull myself together and shake off any further thoughts of the hottest woman I had ever laid eyes on; it was no easy task.

As I worked through my exam, my thoughts occasionally strayed to Hanni, wondering what was going on and if I was out of my mind for thinking of her as any more than a sister. The exam was as easy as I thought it would be, so I finished and returned home early. When I got back my sister was at the fridge, deep in thought, biting on her finger as she always did. Dressed in tiny jean shorts and an oversized football jersey, tied at the waist and hanging slightly over one shoulder, I thought of she now seemed to know exactly what to wear to complement her figure. I scolded myself inwardly for then thinking it would be better if she wore less.

"Oooh, you scared the shit out of me," she said as she jumped and the jersey fell the rest of the way down her shoulder, revealing the strap of a black bra beneath.

I wanted to ravish her on the kitchen table right then and there as she turned her head and cocked her hips, playing at my desires.

"I was just going to make us both lunch, how did your test go?"

I told her about it as I sat at the table and she prepared lunch, slapping my hand away a few times that I reached for some little morsels.

"I've been taking cooking classes," she told me, "It's funny because I'm finally doing all the things I want to do, maybe I wasn't cut out for college anyway."

"You're nuts Hanni," I fired back, "you have always been the smartest girl I know, and are probably still the only female who can beat me in any game on the Xbox.... you're amazing."

She glowed in response to my comment her striking eyes locking onto mine, "I love you so much Oppa."

We ate and chatted about this and that, and I realized that even though Playboy Playmate status had taken her from a hot young girl to a to-die-for image on the page of a magazine, we still got on as well as ever.

"So I was thinking," she interjected, "I've got to go to this club tonight and shake hands with a bunch of the higher-ups of Playboy here, but I don't really want to go alone. They might be a little weirded out if I brought my brother, but do you think you might want to go as my date?"

"I mean, sure, if you think that's okay," I fired back, excited but nervous.

"Of course it is," said Hanni happily, "I'd just love to have someone to hold on to, it can be kind of intimidating considering the nature of the work."

She told me a little more about the night and what was in store, some dancing, some drinking and of course some more playmates - which I obviously couldn't complain about. The rest of the day went on with little consequence, we watched a movie together and caught up on some work individually.

After I had thrown on a nice button-up and dress pants I went and sat on the couch and waited for Hanni, who was never on time. When the doorbell rang and I hopped up to answer it, I was surprised to see a expensive-looking limousine sitting in the driveway.

"We should be going sir, wouldn't want to keep Hanni's employers waiting." said the driver.

Just then, the click of heels on hardwood alerted us that Hanni was finally ready to go. As I looked up I nearly collapsed, and so did the driver. Hanni wore a red, slightly shimmering dress, cut low between her breasts and high on her thighs. Her cleavage was so perfect I could die happy right there, the dress seeming to be holding on to it for dear life. It clung to her form and I couldn't imagine a more beautiful sight. As she gracefully stepped down the stairs in her simple but sexy black heels, the driver struggled for words.

"Good e-evening Miss Underwood, I am d-d-david, your driver for tonight."

Hanni was a good sport and thanked David as we walked out the door. As I took the first step out the door, Hanni stopped me and whispered in my ear, causing a tingle to run through my body,

"I think he saw something he liked."

Not to be outdone, I turned and whispered back, "He wasn't the only one."

She squeezed my hand and after she got in the limo, David, who was holding the door said, "You are a lucky man." I knew I was.

Hanni sat close to me the whole ride there and her presence was intoxicating. The night pretty much went as Hanni had described, we sipped on drinks while meeting a whole bunch of people who pretty much jumped over me to get to Hanni as she answered their questions. When all of the connections were finally made, Hanni dragged me toward the bar and said

"I need a shot or two, I almost couldn't stand it anymore."

I agreed and we both winced back two shots of something that was way above my budget, apparently free of charge. Then came playmate introductions. Some were scattered about the dance floor, others at various bars about the classy establishment. I recognized some from television but most were gorgeous and unknown to me. I did, however, notice that almost every one of them paled in comparison to Hanni.

Hanni dragged me onto the dance floor among the beauties and we were innocently spinning each other around and sharing the occasional close moment as the alcohol began to work its magic. Then, as if in a dream, Jessica Burciaga, a crush of mine with whom I had spent a little time flirting with earlier grabbed me for a dance. The beating music, dark atmosphere and ever-present buzz of the alcohol had me confident and forward as the tanned, Latina beauty pushed against me. She was beginning to really get into it, grinding her hips against mine in away only a fiery girl like her could. I was in another universe, doing what every guy always dreams of, and with her hands on top of mine I felt every inch of my long-standing playmate crush.

I obviously wasn't paying attention to much else because it took me a while to notice that Hanni, who was nearby, had found a guy and was dancing against him too. I tried to disregard the immediate pang of jealousy I felt, but it would not go away. Jessica was now doing her most seductive dancing, pulling my body into hers, our breath heavy upon each other, but it wasn't enough to keep me from stealing a glance at my sister across the way. Her dress was catching the little bit of light on the floor and her body was unfathomably sexy as she moved to the music. Once more I looked, and I saw on her face the same jealousy I had felt. Our eyes locked. We stared at each other as the music seemed to get quieter, and our dance partners continued their movement around us. I knew she wanted to be dancing with me at that moment, and I, with her. At the end of the song we thanked our partners, and Jessica planted a kiss on my lips, slipping a note into my pocket and whispering for me to call her.

I approached Hanni, who was now glaring at me and leaning on the bar a few feet away.

"Looks like somebody is having a good time," she said with a bit of an attitude, "you can take the limo home with her if you want, I'm sure I can get another ride."

"Hanni, don't be like that," I said with the best puppy dog eyes I could muster, "I got carried away, besides, it looks like you and Mr. Hands over there were getting along just fine by yourselves."

She loosened up a bit at that comment and looked at me sideways, smirking, "alright, just promise me at least one dance before the night is up killer," she requested with a sweet look on her face.

"Hanni," I said with a hint of seriousness in my voice, "I don't want to dance with anyone else tonight if that's okay with you."

Instead of voicing her approval, she stood on her toes and planted a kiss right on my lips, holding my head in her hands as she did. It only lingered a second, but I saw stars as she pulled away and motioned to the bartender to make us two seven-and-sevens. She leaned over the bar a bit, and the bartender ogled her cleavage as I, on the other end was helpless to the view of her backside, the red cloth stretched thin over it. I wondered if she was wearing any underwear, "maybe not," I thought mischievously.

We took our first sips silently as she batted her eyelashes at me, somewhat embarrassed from the kiss.

"I hope that wasn't your best effort out on the dance floor Hanni," I said with a hint of arrogance, "I don't think Playboy would like it if they knew their new protégé danced like she was at a junior high mixer."

Hurt, Hanni quickly shot back, "oh and I suppose you would have me shaking my ass like that little tart you were dancing with?"

"I'm not saying I wouldn't like it..." I trailed off.

Hanni quickly set down her drink and grabbed my hand as if to say, "I'm done talking about it, let's dance."

She dragged me deep into the crowd of people; it's amazing how you feel more private when surrounded by thick swells of human beings. At first she just pushed me back, swaying to herself and running her hands seductively up and down her flowing curves. My head spun as I watched and I couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or my hot older sister moving like she was in front of me. Then she approached me and I wrapped my arms gently around her, careful not to break the rhythmic surging of her body. I began to move with her, running my hands more daringly around her, and I heard a quiet moan into my neck.

She gracefully grabbed my arms and spun herself around, facing away from me and keeping herself enveloped in my grasp. Her style was entirely different from Jessica's, and I couldn't get enough. I savored the feeling of her petite form against mine as she ground he firm ass slowly against me. There was no question why dancing like this had become so popular, her undulations and grinding aroused me more than if she had instead turned and grasped my shaft with her nimble little hands herself. I was no amateur myself, and I moved easily behind her, touching her in all the right places, proud to see many people watching us dance so well together.

We were lost in each other, our heads buzzing from perhaps one too many drinks. I buried my head in her fragrant blonde hair, blowing softly on her neck - a move I had successfully used in the past. We were both so aroused about the fact that nobody knew our true relation that we nearly forgot it ourselves. She leaned back and looked deep into my eyes, my gaze confirming that I felt as strongly as she did. As she turned her head I boldly pressed my lips against hers, tasting a hint of cherry on her lips. I was not entirely surprised when she opened her lips a bit, and her tongue darted out to touch my mine. We broke the kiss about as soon as it started - locking our eyes together as she turned toward me and hugged her close once more.

Then after a few seconds that felt like hours, we ended our pause and were making out like a couple of teenagers. She jumped gracefully into my strong arms and we battled our tongues to see who could display the stronger desire. We were hidden from the outside world by the surging crowd but I could swear our passion caused a good number of couples around us to start engaging in the same activity.

After we were both out of breath and tired of pounding music, we broke our kiss and I said with a witty smile, "what do you think about getting out of here and going back to my place?"

She showed me that beautiful smile of hers and grabbed my hand once again, dragging me outside. I held her in my arms as we waited for the limo, and once inside we made sure the divider was up and she jumped in my lap like there was no time to lose.

Now that we had room to move about our kisses were practiced and still overflowing with desire. She thrust gently against me as I ran my hands up and down her sides, then lightly resting them against the breasts I had so dreamed of seeing. I ran my fingers in circles around her nipples which were protruding stiffly through her red dress. She moaned into my mouth and continued grinding herself against me as she straddled my lap. Not wanting her to do all the work, I gently laid her tiny frame down on the seat and hovered over her.

I teased her, putting my lips just millimeters away from hers and as she snapped up to try and lock hers to mine, I pulled away, concentrating on my hands moving firmly from her legs all the way up to her face. When they reached their destination, I grasped her neck and finally locked lips once again, this time lightly pressing my leg between her thighs. She moaned enthusiastically, barely able to maintain the kiss as I pressed hard and then eased over and over. My fingers moved just below the fabric next to her generous cleavage, wishing my hands were unhindered by the dress. She swelled back against my leg and I continued to massage her body and breasts. Just as she took a deep breath in anticipation of impending orgasm, there was a knock on our tinted window and we realized we had been stopped for some time. I looked down at Hanni and collapsed, both of us laughing at how our arousal had caused us to lose all track of time.

"Not fair," Hanni said, gasping and visibly pissed to be withheld what would have been a fantastic orgasm.

I pulled her up, also unhappy to be leaving the privacy and comfort of the limousine's cabin.

As we left vehicle, the driver said "Goodnight to you Miss Underwood, and to you too sir," giving me a knowing look.

Hanni was none the wiser as she sauntered toward the door, still moping about her suspended pleasure. I thanked the lucky stars that my parents were spending the weekend on a sailboat with friends and I would have the house, and Hanni, all to myself.

When we finally got inside and I shut the door, Hanni pushed my body against it softly with her own.

I looked at her and started in a concerned tone, "Hanni..."

But Hanni put her finger over my lips and stopped me, saying, "I want this, and I know you do too. I am your older sister, I can make my own decisions. Yes, this is technically against the rules, but so is looking at those pictures of me online little brother."

I thought about it for a second, "You've made a few good points."

"Now," she said, a little more demanding than I am used to, "I am going to go upstairs, and if you know what's good for you, I suggest you grab us something to drink, preferably without alcohol, and follow me up in five minutes."

With that, she turned and headed up the stairs without looking back.

I was stunned, and more than a little turned on. My sister had never been so forward in her whole life, but I loved the new her. I grabbed two waters and stood at the counter in the kitchen, taking hold of reality and reveling in how lucky I was. I knew that when I walked up those stairs, I would be spending the night with the most beautiful girl I'd probably ever come across, let alone my sister and a Playboy Playmate unlike any other. With that, I knew that there was no decision to make and my feet took me up the stairs like they had a mind of their own.

Taking a drink, I opened the door and for the second time that night, my sister blew me away. She had been under the covers, but as I opened the door she sat up and proudly showed off her full form. I literally spit out the water I had just drank as I took her in; she giggled, flattered at the reaction. She was wearing a slightly transparent magenta lace bra, which pushed up her ample breasts ever so slightly. Her bottoms were a simple but sexy black cotton that I couldn't wait to rip off.

She motioned to me and said "Come here;"

I walked to the edge of the bed. She crawled on all fours at me like a jungle cat, and equally as graceful. As she came eye to eye with me she took one of the bottles from my hand, opening it and taking a quick drink. She capped it and dropped it nonchalantly to the side, the glistening water still on her lips. She then gave me a slow and sultry kiss, once again holding my head in her hands; I could taste the cool water on her lips.

I placed a knee on the bed and pulled her close to me, once again beginning to slide our tongues against the other. I tried to go as slowly as possible as I laid her down and continued to kiss her deeply, but how could you blame me, with all the skin to explore my hands moved on their own. Up and down they travelled, not wanting to leave an inch of her body unexplored. I kissed her neck as I massaged all over her, and she once again began to pant into my ear, quickly nibbling at it. I couldn't believe how exciting it was to feel her move strongly against me, arching her back and thrusting her hips out to meet mine. My hands cupped her round cheeks and gave them a squeeze; I could feel her smile as we kissed.

My hands finally finished their journey, and one of them moved to the clasp in her bra. I had never been too good at removing a bra, but tonight, I was so hot with luck that I did it in one fluid motion. The fabric loosened, and I slowly walked my fingers along the patterned lace. She loved how much attention I was paying to each part of her; she had thought hard about what to wear for me. I pulled back from her face and looked into her eyes before I knew I'd finally have her naked body before me. The soft glow of the lamp nearby upon her made her all the more beautiful.

"Oppa...I..." she started, but this time it was my turn to quiet her, with a kiss.

She was about to tell me how much she wanted me, how happy I made her, but I already knew, and she let out a breath in relief as I acknowledged it with my kiss.

I ran my hand up one of her arms and placed it above her head, and doing the same with the other I joined them, restraining her harmlessly. With my free hand I gingerly moved her bra up her arms and covered her with my body, pulling it over her head and tossing it to the side. She nipped at my lip and caught me off guard, freeing her hands and allowing her to reach for my shirt and nimbly unbutton it faster than I could have myself. She pushed it down my shoulders and off and I kissed her once again, our partial nakedness adding fervor to our efforts.

I finally wrapped my hands over her breasts, one at a time, playing with it slowly and beginning to breathe heavily myself in arousal. I thumbed her nipples and found that she was extremely sensitive there, because her moans became more frequent into my mouth and neck. We both moved our hips against each other in unison, mimicking the action we both so desired to get to, but I wanted anything but to rush things. She on the other hand, had already begun removing my belt and unbuttoning my pants, and in no time, she was wrapping her legs around my pelvis and impressively removing my pants mostly with her feet.

I could feel her pussy wet against my thigh, and our new proximity caused me to resume the pressure that had been so effective in the limo. I once again had her humping at my leg, becoming wetter with each push. I replaced my thigh with two of my fingers, rubbing softly but surely against her lips and clit. She squealed in pleasure and dug her nails lightly into my back. She was so close to orgasm she could barely stand it, and as I drank her in I couldn't fathom that a girl could be any sexier. My older sister was beneath me, begging for my touch, both of us wanting each other more than we had ever wanted someone before.

As I continued my ministrations, I slipped my fingers beneath the cotton of her panties, finding her mound baby smooth and slick with her desire. Being the consummate teaser that I am, I continued to keep her at the peak of her pleasure without pushing her over. She was frustrated, and she began to grab at my cock through my boxer shorts. She moved her dexterous fingers over it, allowing me to savor the feeling and the cotton between them. Then, just as I had done, she moved her hands underneath my boxers and grabbed me firmly, shuddering occasionally from my own onslaught of her smooth quim. She brushed her fingers up and down over my shaft, lightly touching the tip and rubbing the pre-cum over it.

"Please...please....oh...Oppa," she begged into my ear as I continued to rub against her clit and eased one finger, and then two, slowly into her wet pussy.

In and out I moved them gently, feeling how tight she was, but only enough to keep her bucking her hips at my touch and begging for release.

She once more grasped my cock, not even able to wrap her small hand around it and pushed her other hand against my chest.

"I want you, no... I need you...inside me," she pleaded.

Now I may have been teasing her, but the entire time I could do little more than think about how fantastic if was going to feel to finally be inside my gorgeous playmate sister. I kissed down her neck, not failing to stop at each of her breasts and lick tenderly at each hard nipple, hearing her moan in return. As I continued I kissed at her tight abs, belly-button and then looked up at her, smiling as I pulled her panties down the first few inches with my teeth. She managed a smile through her sighs of passion and I finished taking off her cute little black bottoms the rest of the way with my hands. Me standing at the foot of the bed, she reached out with her toe and grabbed the elastic band of my shorts, pushing it down, showing me what she wanted. I took them off in one fluid motion and when I looked up she was using both hands to make a 'come hither' motion at me.

As I slid up her body, feeling our skin rub lightly against each other, I knew this was it. We stared lustfully and longingly into each other's eyes and I could feel my fully enlarged shaft pressing directly between her soaked folds. We kissed once more, a kiss so deep and meaningful that only a brother and a sister could share, and I gazed upon her stunning features.

"Are you sure this is what you want? I know I do, but I want you to be sure," I said, and I meant it.

She pulled me close and, still panting, spoke a breathy "Yes...fuck me...please."

She reached between us and gently pointed me directly towards her, placing the tip right at her entrance. With one hand, she pulled at my back, encouraging me to move inside of her. I did as instructed, but as if in one last effort to tease, I pushed only a bit of my tip inside of her before pulling it back out. The feeling alone was unbearably good, and I had hardly entered her yet.

This time she demandingly breathed, " Oppa," strongly, "Fuck me."

With that, I began to press into her. We both gasped into each other's necks as I slid in, inch by inch. I stopped briefly for her to adjust to my sizable cock, and pulled out a bit, causing us both to hold our breath at the feeling. Finally I made one final thrust, and our hips touched together as we joined in a passionate kiss. We were both smiling from ear to ear at the sheer bliss we were experiencing. She pawed at me, fidgeting at the intense pleasure I was giving her.

I could have stayed locked together like that forever, but we both began, slowly at first, to rock against each other. We stayed pressed together as my cock slid further and further, in and out of her impossibly tight tunnel. I began to lose focus on the kisses we had been sharing and was unable to do anything but grasp at her hips with one hand and support myself with the other. Her moans came almost every other breath now, a sound so soft and sweet I wished they would never stop.

"Oh...oh...Oppa...Oppa," she gasped into my ear.

"Hanni...Hanni...you feel...so....fucking....good," I whispered back.

We were moving as one, two bodies locked in a passion for each other so strong nothing could not stop us. She then wrapped her legs around me, grabbing at me with her heels and pulling me deeper. I continued to thrust in and out, and she pushed in perfect time back toward me, grinding her clit against me every chance she could. We pushed hard enough each time that I could see her breasts, possibly my favorite feature, bouncing a bit at each stroke, still sizable even as she lay on her back. She began to squeal just a bit now with each breath, a pitch that just barely came through with each breathy moan. Finally, the orgasm I had deprived her of for so long came and she tensed up, grabbing me with impressive strength as I kept moving in and out of her, her pussy pummeling my cock with its contractions as she came for what seemed like minutes. She continued to moisten and I continued to thrust, not allowing or wanting her to come down from her climax. I couldn't believe it, I still had time to go, and though I could probably have made myself climax at any second, my body seemed determined to let me continue my enjoyment of the amazing playmate, my sister, before me.

She finally began to come down from her orgasm, and pulled me tight against her.

"Don't move.. I can't handle it... I need a moment," she managed to say.

I observed her in her post-orgasmic glow and once again had time to marvel at my luck.

"Tell me when," I challenged her.

A few slow, controlled breaths and, as if encouraged by my dare she said with all the strength she could muster "when."

With that, she flipped on top of me as she had done so many times before, without removing herself from our incestuous connection. I could tell that she was still sensitive from her first orgasm but after a few seconds she began to move her toned core in the most seductive motion. She flexed and relaxed her abs, working me in and out of her soaked pussy like a piston around a camshaft. She smiled as she saw my eyes roll back, astounded at her ability. I firmly grasped her body, feeling it move and moving with it, my hands free to do whatever they pleased. I took her breasts in my hands, cupping them and feeling their weight and wonderful softness. She leaned into me, still moving her hips so smoothly up and down on my cock. I thrust up meet her downward movements, us now face to face and joining again in a lustful kiss. I felt myself closer to orgasm but fought it away, I couldn't give in just yet. Hanni on the other hand was not quite close, I could see her face change just a bit with each up and down thrust, and you should have seen it as I moved my thumb to her clit. As I rubbed at her little button she smiled again against my mouth and moaned my name:

"Oppa...fuck....Oppa....oh God."

Encouraged, I scooped her up, moving to the edge of the bed still inside her and could feel us both pulsing now that the thrusts had momentarily stopped. I looked around for something to set her on and found the that padded bay window across from my bed to be the perfect place. I stood up, but always wanting to try it, and her light body the perfect size, we began to fuck standing up. I grasped her ass tightly in my hands and she wrapped her legs around me. We adjusted to the position and for a minute or two were once again lost in our passion as I fucked her, the sexy little minx that she was, as well as I could. Holding her weight distracted me from my own not-so-far-off orgasm and I plunged into her again and again, seeing that she was enjoying it too. The feeling was like no other, having her wrapped securely around me, suspended in the air and still enjoying the heat of her sex sliding up and down my shaft. I savored it, her breasts pushing against my chest so I could feel her teasing nipples and each breath.

"Fuck...fuck...fuck me...Oppa... fuck your sister... Fuck you're big...shit...shit...Ohmygod."

I was so turned on by the dirty mouth she got as I fucked her, she never spoken like that before, and I began to pound her harder. Her moans got louder in approval as I pounded at her and her little hole nearly dripped in enjoyment.

Finally I moved with her still impaled on my cock over to the window, set her down, and looked her right in the eyes as I pulled out just past the tip and then began to thrust back into her slowly. Our looks both shouted that we loved and wanted each other so badly. My cock fit perfectly inside my sister's tight little pussy. I knew my orgasm was coming, and I could tell by the look in her eyes that hers was too. She looked back at me, pleading with me to keep going, and we both watched between us as my cock disappeared inside her again and again. The pleasure was agonizing and we never wanted it to end.

Each stroke brought us closer to our impending climaxes and I looked over her body one final time. She was just barely glistening with sweat and her face was flushed. Her chest, and firm breasts with it was heaving with each moan. She once again pulled me into her with her legs, and used one hand to bring my face to hers. I brushed the hair from her face and grasped her hips with my other hand. We were oblivious to anything else now but the sensation of her wet tunnel grasping at my cock. We alternated between quick, fulfilling strokes to slow and pleasurable ones where we held our breath for an entire thrust.

We ground against each other, feeling our bodies pressed together and our tongues dancing drunk with lust, and we were both seconds away from release. For a few strokes we looked deep into each other's eyes, wanting to see the other pushed over the edge. I pulled out one final time and Hanni's teary eyes begged for that one final advance. As I thrust into her, she screamed aloud, and I nearly blacked out as I began releasing inside of her. Her walls contracted around me, flowing with fluids and I pumped my seed again and again into her, trying to thrust in deeper as I did. She was clutching at any part of me she could with her hands, unable to breathe until her orgasm began to fade. Her legs held me inside of her, and I could think of absolutely nothing as a wave of such intensity washed over me that I went temporarily blind. Hanni quivered again and again as her own orgasm rendered her limp in my arms. Her pussy squeezed the last bit out of me and we both held each other, speechless for who knows how long.

I began to pull myself from her and the tenderness of our lovemaking made it almost impossible to move without both of us trembling at the feeling. As I finally moved completely out of her, we both felt an intense emptiness, which I remedied by quickly laying her down in the window and sliding in behind her. I held her tight as we spooned on the cushions, every sense heightened, and our desires for each other stronger than ever.

We lay like that for a long time, just feeling each other breathe, still unable to form words or thoughts at what had just transpired. All I knew was that I had just had the experience of a lifetime, and I wanted it to last as long as it possibly could. As if reading my mind, Hanni finally managed,

"I can't believe what you just did to me, that was...." I was hanging on her every word, "fucking incredible," she finished.

We both smiled at her phrasing, and I knew she felt the same as me.

"I love you so much Hanni, and that was the best thing that will ever happen to me," I said back, knowing that words really couldn't describe fully how I felt.

Hanni turned to me with a look on her face I didn't understand, "best thing that will ever happen to you, Oppa?" she questioned. "What about next time?"

...to be continued

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Sung Jinwo's significant other, who was with him through thick and thin. Someone who was very close to his family and would often fill in the gaps in his life and family.

Imagine doing your normal routine in the mornjng into to look into the calendar and saw today's date marked up with a note that says parent teacher conference causing you to blink, still sleepy. First of all, you've graduated high-school and is a worker and a part-time hunter. Second, you don't have a child let alone a sibling that's going to scho- oh!

"Sung Jinwo!" You scream as soon as he picked up the phone. You heard a groan and a bit of shuffling before you heard a deep husky voice on the phone "Hmmm? Morning." Followed by a chuckle. "Did you just woke up?" He asked causing you to roll your eyes. "No." You lied with a pout. He knew you very well. "You should get ready, Jin-Ah's parent teacher conference meeting is in three hours." "I know, thats why I called you. I thought you were still asleep." "Come on now darling, I'm not a sleepyhead like you." He laughs.

Imagine Jinwo who was on the other side of the phone, just woke up and is now making his way into the kitchen, chuckling as he listen to your rebut with a smitten look on his face, after all, there was nothing he would trade for as long as your voice is what greeted him as he wake up in the morning. "Shall I pick you up at your place so we could go in there together?" "Nah, your house route is completely on the opposite direction of mine. Let's just meet on the school grounds okay?" "Alright." He replied with a smile on his face. "Well then I need to get going now." "Alright, you do take your time to get ready." He tease

"I love you" You heard him say as you almost ended the call due to this teasing. "I love you too." You replied with a small smile on your face. "See you later babe" "I told you not to call-" "Love you! bye!" "Sung Jinwo you punk!" Although you said that with such annoyance, there was a hind of happiness in your eyes that you cannot deny.

Imagine silently waiting for him at the school gates, playing on your phone with some random blocks game when you heard a familiar step coming close causing you to look up only for your eyes to squint as you try to get a grip of reality if your boyfriend was actually the one jogging right in front of you right now.

"Hi." He said with a cheeky grin on his lips as you stare at him wide eyes. "You- your hair." You utter as you reach out and touch his undercut, causing a shiver down his spine as you do. "Yeah I though a little hair cut wouldn't be so bad, my hair was getting long. Why? Does it not look good-?" "No. No Jinwo. You're... beautiful." You utter with a soft smile and proceeded to mess up his hair. "Funny, we used to be by each others height but now you're taller than me." You whispered. "What was that?" "Nothing, let's get going, its almost time."

Imagine noticing the stare and murmurs that the two of you were receiving ever since the two of you have gotten inside the building and eventually to the room where the meeting is about to be held. And to be honest, you honestly cannot blame the students for gossiping and looking at your way because even Jian-Ah was surprised to see her brother's new look upon seeing him. But the way the young adult, one who seemed to be in the same age as you and your lover, probably the sisters of the other students looked at Jinwo that makes you sigh.

Imagine, it was easy to see the changes that was happening with Jinwo. His growth spurt, this strength and abilities were slowly catching everyone's attention. In comparison to the Jinwo you have grown up with, there was this feeling of confusion and anxiety of not being able to keep up with him. You know you should be glad that he was no longer the weak he once was but at the same time, there was this fear of being left behind by him. But you knew for a fact that he would not leave you behind, that's why you fear that you would rather become a burden for hi- "Ouch!"

"You're thinking of something stupid again." "You bas-! That hurts!" You complain as you clutch your forehead, glaring at your lover who was slurping his ramen without care. "You deserve it for thinking about something stupid." "I- I'm not thinking of something stupid." You utter, looking away from him, down into your ramyeon. It's not stupid for what you are thinking was a fact, a truth that hurts to admit.

Imagine the way he slowly reach out and touch your forehead, caressing the spot where he had flicked you earlier. "Sorry, does it hurt?" When he said that with such lovely look on his face, how could you not soften? "No, I was over reacting." You smile gentle at him and lean on his touch. "Still, I'm sorry." "It's alright Jinwo."

"Thank you for bring me home-" You were cut off with a pair of lips. Wide eye, you cannot help but to be taken a back by your lover's action. Nevertheless you soon melt into the kiss and kissed him back, even hooking your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Thank you for staying by my side all those years." He said as the two of you pull away from each other but still close enough that your foreheads where touching. "I love you and only you. There will be no one else, okay?" "Okay." You chuckle and hug him. Right there was no use in being scared when it was obvious whom he loves. "I love you too."

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: I want to write an angst, not sure if Jinwo would be a fit or a blue lock or Genshin character would be a nice victim.

[orphicsun]

what if reader is a cat burglar and breaks into pitfighter vi’s apartment one night and vi catches her and at first she thinks it’s kinda funny and says “are you dumb? there’s nothing in here worth stealing.” but then she sees how cute and scared reader is and decides to punish her for her actions

CONTENT: Vi x fem! reader, spanking (r! receiving), fingering & oral sex (r! receiving), spit play, hair-pulling, impact play, overstimulation, rough sex, degradation & some praise, dom / sub roles (dom vi, submissive reader), punishment, aftercare in the end

WORD COUNT: 3.1K

A/N: Thank you for the request I loved this one! Also if it's unclear because I only hinted to it, Vi comes back early because she forgot her bandages!! Enjoy<3

Your hands leisurely sift through the jewelry box, fingers brushing against a few rings and necklaces. Then, you feel it. Jackpot. A beautiful emerald, a real emerald necklace. You recall your friend telling you about how Pilties loved their jewels; frisking the accessory out of the box, you didn't expect to find such quality from an undercity home. Once again, another good snag. You smiled to yourself in pride though you were alone and slipped out the window you came out of, onto the night to bring your find to an.. 'old friend.'

The door jingled so comically and shut behind you. There, standing behind a tall desk and in front of shelves of treasures was Harlan: the pawn man of Zaun. He was intimidatingly tall and a snake if you ever did see one, but he was convenient, his building open at all hours of the night. Though most came to sell their own items, he didn't particularly need to know that yours were not technically.. well, yours. All he needed was something to sell up to the top-siders.

"Well, well, well. You've got something new for me today?" Voice so nasal, you'd think he was always in bouts of allergies, but no. Just a natural snake. "Show me what you've got for me, dear."

Your grin was as wide as the Cheshire cat's, "you'll never believe the haul, Harlan."

With raised brows, he bit. "How much?"

"One." Your hands found purchase at the front of his desk, amusingly starting up at his now impatient expression.

"You've come to me with only one item?" He sighed. "Fine, show me. What's so great about your find?"

Your toothy smile only widened, having lured him in for the catch. Then, your nimble hand fished through your pocket, pulling out the fish in question, the emerald shining as if to say, "I cost more than your Zaun home is worth by twice-over."

You had him hooked, and you were happily able to return back to your home with a bag of coins and a few heaps of gold stuffed into your pockets. Once your feet returned back to your humble apartment, you were quick to collapse onto your stiff mattress.

Your life mainly consisted of the routine of thievery. At night, you dressed to cover yourself and bade off to homes to snatch their possessions. From watches to even just coin itself, you were particularly good at going undetected. This was all you knew, and you didn't feel an ounce of empathy. What was fair was fair game, and what wasn't fair were the cards you were dealt with early into your childhood; why should anyone be offered what is simply 'fair', if you are not? You had rent to pay, your own mouth to feed, and everyone in Zaun in fact knew that money did equate to happiness. Everyone in Piltover may have been able to snuff those thoughts down as they mindlessly bought their way through life, leading more extravagance in a nanosecond than any person who'd lived in the undercity could see in a century-length lifetime.

Tomorrow, you thought, would be an even better haul. You usually did not plan through missions, for you were witty and able to go undetected. However, you knew what apartment to pick from tonight. You knew who to pick from, more precisely stated.

Her shoulders were broad, her hair dark. A glint of metal from her piercing flickered through visions, and her betters were smug. Vi was the name all undercity could ever think to talk about anymore. Vi was well-known for her abilities in the ring, and you knew she had a lot of money in her pockets from that. Little did you know that all of the cash went straight to brothels and beer, not to anything you could pick-pocket, though you did love a good quality drink or two.

You planned the perfect burglary: leave before Vi's first fight of the night starts so that she won't be in her apartment for a while, giving you enough time to find yourself her most valuable possessions. Every fight probably lasted under 15 minutes, but that did not include the time she spent at the bar with Loris or preparing for fights, so that added quite some extra time onto however many fights she'd be taking on that night. When you were satisfied with the haul, you would be careful not to leave a trace of yourself anywhere or make any noise that may pin you to the crime; you heard rumors that Vi was sweet on enforcers, and you wondered if that meant that she could possibly make it easier for you to be pinned to all of the robberies in the under-city if she were to ask for it. A trial like that? You'd be easily looking at decades.

You knew that without a doubt, this could go terribly wrong. Not only was Vi disgustingly connected to enforcers, but she was extremely strong. If you were to be caught, your life could be on the line. You weren't weak, but you were in no means fit to take on any pitfights, let alone Vi. However, you were quite foolish and the money from the emerald necklace would only get you so far. Plus, what's wrong with stealing from some enforcer suck-up?

So, you carried out your grand plan. At 8 p.m, the first fight began. Vi had not locked her front door, which surprised you but you were ironically grateful. Made it a lot easier than slipping through a window. Now, here you were, in Vi's apartment.

Taking it all in left you dumbfounded, to say the last. There was almost nothing in sight worth stealing. The room was tinier than you could even imagine; hell, it was smaller than your apartment and that was saying a lot. How in the world does a successful woman like Vi live in a place the size of a college dorm? The bed was hardly a mattress, and all of the valuable items you expected to see within the room were somewhat empty bottles of alcohol, dirty clothes all over the floor, and a few empty plates. Really the only thing worth stealing was the punching bag, but that would be difficult to carry, and you couldn't fit it in any bag you had on you. You momentarily noticed Vi's bandages on the mattress (if you could call it that), which was peculiar knowing that she was known for always fighting with those wrapped around her hands, but you were starting to panic over the fact that you plan was for naught. In a bit of a frenzy, you began sifting through her wooden nightstand's drawers for anything of importance. A flask, a small amount of coins, and a palette of black eye-shadow was all. And then, before you could get a chance to even take those items, you were caught.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?" The door slammed. You whipped back around to see her standing a few feet away, looking cautious but not exactly furious.

"I-I..I was just..." Your words seemed to fail you. Everything you could think of, any possible explanation, it all vanished. You thought of coming clean, but she quickly caught you off guard with a burst of laughter.

"Oh my god, are you that thief everyone's been complaining about?! It's you?" She didn't sound even irritated anymore, just purely entertained. You stood, defensiveness creeping into you.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" You shouted, fingers clenching into fists. Okay, so you did not appear to be thief material, to say the least. You didn't look like some big-time robber, only like a 20 year old girl. Still, you almost wished she would've just turned you in. This was humiliating.

"It's just that... you're visiting me of all people? Are you that stupid? There's not a single thing in here even worth taking. You could probably find a mouse who lives in the wall and sell it for more than this place is worth." She laughed once more, looking over your body in a way that made you both offended and somehow hot.

"Oh, please. Says the one who's soft on the top-siders." Your mouth was going to get you in a lot of trouble, it seemed.

Vi's laughed quickly died down, and she began walking towards you. There was nowhere to go but backwards until your back hit the wall. "You wanna say that again, thief? I could have you rot in Stillwater, you know." That threat caused you to begin to panic. You'd heard countless stories of what the guards do to their prisoners, and you didn't think you could even survive an hour in one of those cells.

"I'm sorry, please don't...please don't tell anybody. I'll do anything."

"Anything?" Vi raised a brow at that.

"Yes! I'll do anything, I'll give you all the cash on me, I'll never break into another house again, just..." You were starting to sound desperate, and Vi seeing some cute thief begging, offering her anything at all for her troubles... a wicked idea popped into her brain.

"I wanna fuck you."

"What...?"

"You heard me. I was planning on spending tonight's earnings on the brothel, but you'll work, I guess."

Her demand was met with silence. For some reason, more heat spread through your face at the thought of getting fucked by Vi than you'd care to admit. You knew that if you agreed, she probably wouldn't go easy. Then again, you didn't exactly have a choice. You were in her apartment after trying to take all of her shit. Before you could protest any further, Vi had you pinned against her wall, a hand gripping your chin to keep you from looking away. Her next words were quiet and low.

"Thieves deserve to get punished, am I right?" She let out a small hum at the way your breath hitched, "I mean, 'specially the pretty ones. So what'll it be, sweetheart?"

Your eyes widened at her words. "W-What will...what be?"

Vi laughed, a soft sound. "What'll it be? The enforcer's idea of punishment or mine?"

Your body was already betraying you, heat fluttering in your lower stomach at her words. This was the last thing you were expecting at the previous worries of getting caught, but you had to admit that Vi was hot. She had experience, too. You swallowed and tried to keep a steady voice with her.

"You."

Vi was a fucking maniac, you concluded.

She had you laid naked across her lap, your ass red with her handprint. Her hand spent what felt like hours slamming down onto your ass-cheeks, hitting both with an amount of force you knew that she contained, but didn't expect to feel. Each smack required a number. She forced you to count each and every spank, and if you hesitated for too long or lost count, she would start over. You didn't even remember how many times you were forced to restart because each blow on your rear left you a mess. All the while, she'd throw filthy words at you, somehow causing your pussy to grow wet and drip onto her mattress.

"Whores get punished when they get greedy. You'd know all about that, wouldn't you baby?"

SMACK!

"Every time I spank you, you seem to get even more soaked. A damn mess all over my bed. It's okay, baby. You'll make up for it."

SMACK!

When you were thinking about getting punished sexually, you imagined just a rough fuck. Maybe some heavy kissing and the usual lesbian stuff, not to be bent over this girl's lap and spanked like it was discipline, forced to count and basically stripped of any ounce of dignity your soul had. You had to admit that you loved it, though. The more her hand met your skin, the louder you got. It was absolutely hell, and you looked like it, too. Your hair that was once tied back was frizzy and tangled from the amount of times she'd gripped it to lift your head up. Your eyes were watery, rimmed with tears that reached your cheeks. Your bottom lip was sore and swollen from you biting down onto it to brace yourself for her punishment. Each moment was absolute torture.

And just when you thought it was over, Vi's fingers slipped inside of you, giving you no time to adjust before fucking you senseless. You cried out at the mix of pleasure and pain, trying to squirm away but Vi's hand on your hip kept you right in your place on across her lap.

"O-Oh, fuck!! Vi, please, take it easy on me-" You didn't even sound like yourself now, your voice broken from all of the crying and your words muffled from your face in the mattress. You were so fucking embarrassed, naked on top of this woman's thighs with her fingers thrusting into your pussy like she hated you. You were convinced she did.

"Why should I take it easy on you? You're just a filthy thief who's desperate enough to steal from anyone, and apparently desperate to get fucked." She berated you, voice so unlike what you'd heard before when she was lightheartedly laughing at you for breaking in.

"It's too much, please!! I can't take it.." You pleaded, crying into her pillow. It was too much, that much was true. Each hit to your g-spot wasn't like a brush but instead like a punch to it, and it felt like overstimulation before you were even able to cum yet.

Vi seemed to take mercy on you, at least that was what you assumed.

Her digits slipped out of you, but before you could sigh in relief, she had you flipped over and onto your back, laid out on top of her mattress with your legs spread in a matter of seconds. Soon, one hand returned to your pussy, three fingers pumping into you at a relentless pace as her other hand gripped your chin. Her eyes were dark with something you weren't used to seeing in anyone, and you began to realize why she was so good at fighting - she was fucking insane.

"Open that fuckin' mouth of yours. Right now." You didn't even wait to oblige, quickly parting your lips which were spilling out whines and cries for mercy. Vi spit into your mouth and used her own hand to close your jaw. "Now, swallow."

You swallowed graciously, and a flutter went through you at her taste. She hadn't even kissed you yet, and you now wanted her to. Her saliva was thick with alcohol and iron, perhaps from blood from a previous fight, but you needed more.

"V-Vi, need a kiss.." You begged breathlessly, expecting her to cave.

"You think you deserve a kiss?" You nodded eagerly, trying your best to even maintain the conversation with her fingers picking up in speed. "Yeah? You're getting a kiss after you've learned your goddamn lesson."

Before you could even whine in protest, Vi's head was between your legs, making out with your sopping cunt while three fingers curled to meet your g-spot. "You wanna complain about me fucking you like this, but you're soaking wet enough to take it and this sweet pussy's just clenching around my fingers like she never wants me to leave," she pulled away to remark before diving back in, tongue circling around your swollen bud.

"Oh, fuck!! Vi, no- You're gonna make me cum, Vi!!"

Only, Violet didn't seem to care. In fact, she wanted you to. She wanted you to so that she could do it again, and again, and again.

Vi coaxed the first orgasm out of you with the flat of her tongue and a deep plunge into your stretched-out hole. Each flick of her tongue sent you both squirming away and bucking up into her mouth. Every hit your sweet insides endured had you only gripping at her stained mattress harder. You cried, pleaded, and begged her for more. You could feel her smile against your pussy. She'd give you more, alright.

You were starting to regret your word when her mouth stayed latched to your clit and her fingertips abused your spongey, tender insides. You were practically fucked raw now, ass still red and sore, cries sounding more like a wounded animal than a real girl, and all you could even process was the sensations. You forgot what you came here for, forgot about wanting a kiss. You wanted mercy.

The second orgasm was a brutal paradise. Ecstasy flowed throughout your body in waves until once again, your pussy was feeling the raw overload of pleasure she was dealing you. You didn't remember how many more times this cycle continued, only that by the end of it, your lower half was numb and you recalled through teary vision, her chin coated in your juices and her lips parting to suck the taste off of her own fingers.

When she was finally done with you, she pulled you into her lap and held you tightly. Sure you were a little thief, but a cute one. Vi wasn't a monster. Her hands traced patterned over your back and squeezed you tightly. You sniffled, still coming down from the intensity of it all.

"Shh, you were a good girl 'f me...took it all and now you're here in my lap.." she comforted you, planting her lips onto your hair.

Then, you remembered what you really wanted to feel before you had to leave.

"Can I please get a kiss?" Your head pulled from her shoulder so that you could see her. Vi nearly melted at your eyes staring up at her, so vulnerable and in need of her care.

Of course she leaned in, pressing her lips onto yours with a gentle warmth just for you to have. She didn't rush it or invade your mouth, only spoiling you with her tender affection you craved after her harsh lesson. Her lips made soft smacking sounds against yours, causing you to softly hum against her mouth and lean in closer for more. You needed this stranger's care more than you needed anything else in that moment. When you pulled away, you placed your head onto her bandaged chest, letting her heart beat and sweet coos lull you to slumber. You ended up falling asleep in her arms, and you hoped to come back to her apartment, but rather for her than for stealing. Your body ached with the previous events, but Vi's hold on you didn't leave you throughout the night, squeezing you so softly to hear those sweet, sleepy squeaks.

[narcjsistx]

— SAY IT AGAIN, EVEN IF I DONT GET IT

✶ words: 0.6k ; sae itoshi x fem!reader ; drabble!

✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

You don't even know how you ended up in a situation like this, you who always said that you would only learn Spanish when Sae admitted that his younger brother was better than him, in short never. Yet now, with a notebook in front of you and a cute pink pen, you feel a bit like a kid in elementary school who is learning the alphabet for the first time

"When you introduce yourself you can say "Me llamo..." instead of the entire sentence "Mi nombre es..." says Sae writing in the notebook, his look serious a bit like when he has to score. You nod almost automatically, when in reality you haven't understood a single sentence of what he's been saying to you in the last 20 minutes. Sae looks up, a little questioning "Are you understanding something?" he asks, and you nod again

Going to his last game was the biggest mistake of your life, but at the same time, the best thing you could ever do. Sae had gotten you a surprise plane ticket, just to spend a week together after two months of not being able to see each other due to college and his workouts. It wasn't the first time you went to Madrid where he was now living, but every time you went out he was the one talking, obviously. You had a certain resentment towards Spanish for the simple fact that in middle school you had been traumatized by a terrible teacher

"You’re not understanding anything" he sighs, and you snap out of your thoughts "Wait- No, I swear I do!" you say slamming your hands on the table, and he does nothing but stare at you perplexed, with the typical Itoshi look. He writes a sentence in your notebook, passing it to you "If you understand then you can tell me what it means, right?" he says, and you look down to read the sentence, a little embarrassed "Of course I can do that..." you say swallowing

You watched the game calmly, sitting in your seat with a good drink by your side and a lot of voice to cheer for him. But when Sae finished the game, you naively thought he would come to you. Big mistake. The journalists love him as if he were their son, the typical son who hates answering his parents' questions, and you naively thought that they would ask him the questions in Japanese. You forgot that your boyfriend now breathes, thinks and speaks Spanish, lives in a Spanish city and plays for a Spanish team

Hearing him speak so fluently, without a shred of effort, made you suddenly fall in love with the language you've hated for years. So, when you got home, you simply asked him to teach you a few phrases just to hear him speak some more Spanish

"Creo que... eres estúpido..." you repeat out loud, and he nods "What does that mean?" he asks, and you purse your lips, thinking for a few seconds "I think you're... pretty?" you say, and Sae nods "Wow. You know Spanish better than me" he says, and you look up, surprised "Did I say that right?" you ask hopefully "Absolutely not" he says, and your hopes die

You put the notebook aside, resting your arms on the table with your head above them "I regret this, I never want to hear another word of Spanish again..." you say dejectedly, and Sae seems to be enjoying it more than he should. He puts an arm around your shoulders, leaning in close to your ear "Vaya. Me estaba divirtiendo al ver a mi hermosa novia concentrarse y no entender absolutamente nada, solo porque quería oírme hablar más en espanol" he says, and a slight shiver runs down your spine. You look up, perplexed "What did you say?" you ask, and he shrugs "That you're stupid and you don't even know how to study the basics" he says, and you sigh "Cruel"

✶ translation of the sentences: "Creo que... eres estúpido..." → "I think you're stupid" ; "Vaya. Me estaba divirtiendo al ver a mi hermosa novia concentrarse y no entender absolutamente nada, solo porque quería oírme hablar más en espanol" → "Damn. I was having fun watching my beautiful girlfriend concentrate and understand absolutely nothing, just because she wanted to hear me speak more Spanish"

[fayelero]

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of your shared apartment with Atsumu, casting a warm glow across the hardwood floors. You had just returned from your morning run when you noticed a sleek black package sitting innocently by your door. The distinct white Chanel logo made your heart skip a beat.

"No way..." you muttered, picking up the package with trembling hands. Just last week, you had casually mentioned how beautiful that new Chanel collection was while window shopping with Atsumu. You specifically remembered telling him, "It's gorgeous, but please don't even think about it. I'm happy with my regular bags!"

But as you opened the package, there it was – the exact same black leather bag you had been admiring, complete with its iconic chain strap and quilted pattern. Your jaw dropped at its beauty, but immediately after came the familiar exasperation.

"ATSUMU MIYA!" Your voice echoed through the apartment.

You heard shuffling from the bedroom, and soon enough, your boyfriend appeared in the hallway, wearing his MSBY Black Jackals training shorts and a plain white t-shirt. His blonde hair was still slightly messy from sleep, but there was a telling glimmer in his eyes that he was trying hard to suppress.

"Mornin', what's with all the yellin'?" he asked innocently, leaning against the wall with that signature smirk of his.

You held up the bag, your eyes narrowing. "Care to explain this?"

"What? That's a nice bag ya got there. Secret admirer?" He scratched his head, playing dumb, but the slight pink tinge on his ears gave him away.

"Atsumu," you said firmly, though you couldn't help but feel your heart warm at his thoughtfulness, "who else would send me a Chanel bag?"

"Maybe it was Bokun? Ya know how he gets when he's shoppin' for Keiji-kun, might've got carried away and bought ya somethin' too!" His explanation was so ridiculous that you couldn't help but laugh.

"Bokuto-san, who panicked last week because he accidentally bought premium rice instead of regular rice, bought me a Chanel bag?"

Atsumu's facade cracked as he let out a chuckle. "Okay, okay, ya caught me." He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "But before ya lecture me about spendin' money, just hear me out."

You sighed, letting your head rest against his chest. "Tsum, we've talked about this. You don't need to buy me expensive things."

"I know," he said softly, his Kansai accent thickening with emotion. "But ya work so hard, and ya never ask for anythin'. Ya even pack my lunches for away games and come to every match ya can. Let me spoil ya a little bit?"

"But—"

"Plus," he interrupted with a playful grin, "ya should see yer face whenever we pass by that store. Yer eyes light up like when ya watch me serve an ace."

You couldn't help but blush. "That's different! Your serves are actually impressive."

"And my girlfriend deservin' nice things ain't impressive enough reason?" He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I got money to spend, and I wanna spend it on the love of my life. Sue me."

You looked down at the bag, running your fingers over the smooth leather. "It is beautiful," you admitted reluctantly.

"Just like ya," he said, and even though it was cheesy, your heart fluttered. "Now, are ya gonna model it for me or what? Gotta make sure my investment was worth it," he teased.

You playfully swatted his arm but couldn't hide your smile. "Fine, but this is the last time, okay? No more surprise luxury gifts."

"Sure, sure," he agreed too quickly, making you suspicious.

"Atsumu..."

"What? I didn't say anythin'!" He raised his hands in surrender, but you could see him already planning his next surprise in those mischievous brown eyes of his.

"You're impossible," you sighed, but reached up to kiss him anyway. "Thank you for the bag. I love it... and I love you."

His resulting smile was brighter than any designer purchase could ever be. "Love ya too, even when yer yellin' my name through the apartment."

"Only because you deserve it!"

"Worth it," he grinned, pulling you closer. "Every single time."

Ⓒkiesbrainjuice all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

tag : @haechansbbg

[velvetcrimsonkisses]

Playing a game with Sukuna

“Sukuna..” You call out, the old wood floor creaking under your every step. Walking through the house felt like a different realm. Sukuna’s realm.

The air is thick with an oppressive silence. The beast nowhere to be seen in the total darkness. The unsettling creaks of heavy footsteps run through the house. You can sense him, but you can’t see him.

“Sukuna… this isn’t funny anymore,” You call out again, your voice echoes in the old house.

Stomp

Each step sounds like a warning. You were about to be caught.

The corridor seems to grow narrower as your mind begins to spiral. The walls begin to feel like they’re closing in, as a chill runs down your spine. You feel those eyes on you. Tracking your every movement as you hastily make your way back to the room where the “game” started. Where he should’ve been. Where he should be.

You quickly open the door and like you presumed. He wasn’t there.

You hurriedly try to find the restraints he was in. Discarded on the floor you pick them up. Your face contorts to the image of disgust when you realize there’s slobber all over them.

“What an animal, he bit thru them…” You mumble under your breath, throwing the rope back on the floor.

You decide to head back out the room. Once again feeling the presence of unseen eyes watching you, just waiting to strike.

Stomp

Sharp fingernails run up your back, digging into your skin, a mix of pain and thrill take over your body. Red eyes glowing with a sinister light, fixating on you with an unnerving intensity. He finally got you.

Sukuna is like an apex predator. He liked to work for his prey. He loved lurking in the shadows of the house, his eyes filled with a malevolent intensity that always made you freeze. Not in fear but with desire. There’s no sane explanation why you both enjoyed this, not that you'd ever admit it to him. Maybe it's the way his fangs glistened in hunger for you, or how every muscle on his body ripples with power and precision, or his aura dominating every environment.

You know he would never actually hurt you, and if he did it wouldn’t last very long…

“I told you to run…” he questions with a low, menacing growl as he appears behind you. Three large arms capture you, the fourth wrapping around your neck. “Those pretty legs don’t take you far…” He mumbles, lips pressed right to your ear.

“I wasn’t trying to run..” He loosens the grip on your neck as you speak, pressing eager kisses to your neck and jawline. “I was trying to find you.”

“Were you now?” a menacing grin spreads across his face, one of his vast hands trails down your stomach, sliding under the waistband of your shorts. You close your eyes at the ticklish feeling.

“That scent…” he bites into your neck. “Your arousal smells divine,” He grunts, his nails trace your entrance.

He slides one finger in, focusing on the small bundle of nerves that he knows makes you crumble under his touch. Still using two hands to hold your body up, he begins rubbing it in small circles, spreading your slick all through your folds. An amused smile paints his face, as he finally enters a digit into you.

Long and thick fingers pump deep inside you. Fingers that are no match for the human body but, here you were taking them so well. Just for him. He plunges his fingers deeper, curling them to hit that sweet spot inside you. He stares at the beautiful faces you make as you take him. Wishing he could freeze them forever. Sukuna never thought he could derive such pleasure from pleasuring someone else but here was. With his sweet mortal that he swears he doesn’t care about.

“I can feel you tightening around my fingers,” he chuckles darkly, his red eyes glinting with a sadistic pleasure. “Make more of those pathetic noises,” he commands you, digging his nails deeper into your hot skin.

The pleasure is almost unbearable, tears start to form in your eyes, threatening to fall down your red cheeks. Sukuna notices the tears and you can almost see the satisfaction on his face. He finds pleasure in making you cry, and you knew this. Feeling his cocks get hard behind you, poking into your back which results in you arching against his body.

His eyes darken with desire, eager for your orgasm. He feels you clench his fingers tighter. “Close are you now?” he teases, picking up his pace. Moving faster, harder, and deeper inside you. His thumb grazing over your clit with just enough pressure to drive you crazy. “Fall apart for me, I got you.”

And you do. Finally reaching your orgasm, he holds your body up and you let it wash over you. He continues rubbing your clit, allowing you to enjoy the full effect of it until you’re a trembling mess beneath him. You watch him lick his fingers clean of your essence as you try to catch your breath. He finally removes his arms from around you slowly, ready to catch you if you stumble.

“Go hide again…”

[no-144444]

photograph- c.leclerc

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or, 5 moments in y/n and charles's life that made the internet go crazy :)

charles leclerc x norris! reader

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AC incident 

You walked into Charles’s room, a drink in hand. God, you forgot how hot Monaco was, even this late in the year. When you’d packed to come visit your boyfriend, you’d thought about the cold and miserable weather back home, not the hot, sweaty, humid, and sunny weather of Monaco. That’s how you ended up in a pair of Charles’s shorts, and just your bra.

“Baby?” He called you. 

“Hm?” You nodded, not looking up from your phone as you lay on his bed. You knew he liked gaming, especially when it wasn’t much about racing, and you didn’t want to disturb him. But his room was the only one with working AC, and you were about to die in the kitchen’s heat. 

When you didn’t get an answer you looked up to see his eyes firmly glued to you, rather than the fifa game he’d just lost. You could hear all his friends shouting at him for missing a goal and costing their team the win. 

“What?” You chuckled, getting up and walking over to him. 

“You look so beautiful, my love,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek when you bent down beside him, laughing at the comments in his ears about him being down-bad. “So pretty.”

“Thanks baby,” you smiled, casting your eyes to the chat, which was all about you and Charles, either complimenting how good you looked, or how cute you were together. 

Landosnandos21: y/n is looking good. DAMN. 

y/n’sversion: Monaco weather is a blessing if we get to see mother like this. 

Charlesleclerc’stoes: alexa play ‘that should be me’ by justin bieber. (I’m taking about charles his woman is FINE.)

y/n’shairfolical: marriage when? children with perfect genetics when?

Pastryboy81: if he’s not this obsessed with me, i don’t want it. 

You laughed at the chat as Charles let his hands wander down your back to your ass, then further to your thighs. 

“Hey!” You heard Lando’s voice through his headphones. “Get your hands off my sister! Stop being weird on stream!” 

You laughed as Charles dropped his hands from you like you were on fire. “Lando, shut up,” you held your middle finger up to the camera, hoping he’d see it as Charles laughed with you. 

“I’m just going to turn the AC on, ok?” You turned to Charles, who stared for a second, then nodded like a puppy. “Thanks,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips, then going back over to the bed and turning the AC on. 

His gaming continued for another 20 minutes before he shut off the game and came over to you. “Hello baby,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your neck as he lay beside you. You kissed back as his hands wrapped around you, pulling you closer. Though his body was warm, you didn’t really mind. “Can we-?” he smiled bashfully and you chuckled.

“Is the stream off?” You asked, knowing his challenges with technology.

“Maybe? I do not know,” he chuckled. “I don’t really care.”

You chuckled, but got up anyway, actually turning off the stream. “Bye guys!” Only a bit embarrassed. 

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Bahrain 

Charles had been training and preparing since the moment he’d gotten up that morning, aka, he hadn’t seen you. There he sat, in his freezing ice bath, when he caught a glimpse of what he thought to be you, cycling with Carlos. He gave a sneaky look to the camera that was on him, then; one second he was there, his trainer looked away, and the next second, he was gone. Shot off like a rocket in your direction. You and Carlos had to jump off your bikes and almost fall over to get out of his way, and even then he chased you all around the paddock, trying to get a hug. 

“Charles! You’re soaking wet!” You laughed as you felt the eyes of the entire team on you two. 

“Come on mi amor! I have not seen you all day! I never race my best without seeing you!” He pleaded, still chasing after you. 

Your laughing stopped when Carlos grabbed you by the shoulders to stop you from running away, helping Charles’s plan. He held you to his chest as Charles celebrated and thanked him, and as the team videoed. 

Finally, Charles made his way over to you and smirked. “A hug, my love?”

And you had no choice. You were passed from Carlos’s arms to Charles’s and hit with the freezing water that coated his swim shorts and his body. “Fuck Charles!” You squealed. “You’re freezing!” 

He just laughed and pressed your head further into his neck, pressing kisses to the top of your head as the paddock became a chorus of ‘awws’ and ‘oooos’. 

“I’m getting you back for this,” you gritted, low enough so only he could hear it.

He smiled wider. “I know you will.”

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Streaming goes wrong

Charles was doing another stream with the f1 boys, you knew that. Charles liked to get very focused on what he was doing, you knew that. But Charles had also promised to come pick you up from the airport, and after 30 minutes of waiting for Arthur to find his baggage (birthday surprise for Charles), then 40 minutes of waiting for Charles, nothing. Not even a phone call or a text. You were exhausted, Vancouver to Monaco was an 11 hour flight, and you hadn’t slept a wink thanks to the guy in front of you, who’s snores could’ve started an avalanche if they were given the chance. 

You opened twitch and pressed on Charles’s stream, to find him busy racing with the other boys. You sighed and decided to just get a cab instead, not wanting to bother him. He could be very forgetful, and you knew that. 

After a 32 minute drive, walking up the stairs with your suitcase since the elevator was out of order, and coming inside, you dropped your suitcase by the door, and went straight to your neighbours apartment to get Charles’s other birthday present even if you weren’t going to try and talk to Charles right now, not when you were that angry. 

Charless16900: wasn’t y/n coming home today? Did you pick her up?

Charles glanced at the chat to see the message and his face fell. He was meant to pick you up- he looked at his watch- more than an hour ago. He checked his phone to find the messages you’d left and he sighed. 

“I am in big trouble,” he told the group, a sorrowful look in his eyes.

George chuckled. “What? Why? What did you do?”

“I forgot to pick up Y/n from the airport!” He groaned. “She got a taxi instead.”

“Oh, so that was the noise from earlier, your door opening,” Alex added. 

“What?!” Charles squeaked. “She is home already?”

“I think so mate,” Max laughed. “Good luck.”

Charles got up from his chair for a few minutes to go and talk to you. “Baby?” He called out to the apartment. “I’m sorry?”

And then a pillow was flung at his face. “You dick!” Arthur shouted. “You forgot us at the airport!”

Charles stared at his little brother, completely confused. “What are you doing here?” He chuckled, throwing the pillow back. 

“I am here for your birthday surprise!” Arthur explained, throwing the pillow back at him. “You know, the one Y/n set up?”

Charles shook his head, even more confused. 

“Thanks Arthur, congratulations, you ruined the surprise,” you walked in with a small dachshund in your arms. “Well, here's the other part of the surprise.”

Charles stared at you. “You got me a dog?” He smiled, taking the dachshund from your arms.

“I got us a dog,” you corrected him. “Happy birthday-eve,” you smiled. “Also fuck you for not picking me up from the airport.”

“Yeah, exactly!” Arthur cheered, annoying Charles. “You could’ve seen me way faster- ew! Stop it!”

Arthur started complaining because Charles had started kissing you. You chuckled into the kiss as one of his arms wrapped around your waist and the other held your new dog. Your arms wrapped around his neck as Arthur threw a pillow at the both of you, causing Charles to pull away and start chasing him around the apartment. 

You chuckled to yourself and picked up the pillow, fixing up your bed. Maybe you could forgive Charles for his mistake. Then you looked at his gaming set-up and saw that everything was still on and that he was still streaming. 

“Charles!” you scolded, going over and ending the stream with a wave. “Turn off the stream before you run off!”

“Sorry, my love!” He called back. 

“And Arthur!” you shouted. “Stop chasing your brother around my house, you’re going to break something!”

“Sorry!” He called back. 

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

Qualifier

You watched with bated breath as the qualifier for the Monaco GP dragged on. It was the last lap, Oscar right on his tail, and…

He did it. He crossed the finish line first. Ahead of Max, ahead of Oscar, ahead of everyone. 

The entire paddock was alive with cheering. Every person pulled someone closer in with hugs and cheers, and it was all thanks to Charles. Arthur and you were jumping up and down, ecstatic that he’d won. As soon as you two could, you ran to the lineup and watched as he jumped out of the car, running straight towards you. He pulled off his helmet, handing it off to someone, then he scooped you up in his arms, a bright smile on his face as he kissed you. The small camera crew and the number of fans around clapped and cheered as cameras flashed and pictures were taken. 

“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you smiled. “My winner.”

“Your winner, always. And soon, your husband." 

Thank god neither of you were wearing microphones. 

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

Interview goes south

“Does being Charles Leclerc make you fuck more?”

Charles tried to stifle the shit-eating grin on his face when he looked up and found you with your head in your hands, shaking your head and laughing as the second-hand embarrassment hit you like a freight train.

He chuckled. “I am very lucky, I am very in love and my beautiful girlfriend loves me too,” he smirked. “But the answer is definitely yes,” he laughed as the other interviews burst into uncontrollable laughter. Obviously he was making a joke (no he wasn’t, you two went at it like bunny rabbits), but it was awfully embarrassing for you both. Charles beckoned you over and you obliged, only to set the record straight. 

“He’s joking about that,” you clarified. “And don’t be so sure on how much your girlfriend loves you after that answer,” You scolded. Charles laughed, holding you closer and pressing ‘apology’ kisses to any piece of you he could reach. The video ended with Charles chasing you around the paddock as you ducked past people to evaded his capture.

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navigation for my blog :)

[captain-huggy-bear]

Scratchy

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+, smut - lil' spicy, lil' racy, lil' bit of Lottie is feeling touch starved and it shows 😅 Not for the kiddos at all! Get off my lawn!

Summary: Quinn will do most things to make you laugh, his favourite thing about growing out his beard is the fact that it's a weapon of mass destruction when breaking that laugh out of you. It also makes you a little weak at the knees and hot behind the collar too which is a bonus.

Notes: I haven't kissed someone in 3 years, okay? I miss the scratch of a beard and Quinn has such a good beard at the moment, leave me alone! Don't judge me, just enjoy the fruits of my imagination.

Also Merry Xmas/Happy Holidays for tomorrow, this is my present to you all :) xx

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

It's a still sort of evening, the sort of dim, cozy quiet that only ever seems to happen when the night is dark, and you've made your way back to Quinn's apartment after a date to the silence of his apartment.

The lights are low, but warm because Quinn had changed all the bulbs to a soft amber after you expressed how much you missed the warm glow of the old street lights from your childhood. You're curled up underneath Quinn's arm on his white sofa, both of you pretending you're watching Home Alone but really it's just white noise as the two of you cuddle up together. The TV taking a background role to the two of you, the main actors in this play.

Technically, you should consider getting your shoes on, grabbing your jacket and going back to your apartment, the clock ticking closer and closer to 11pm, but you both know that's not going to happen. It's a Saturday and Sunday means no work for you, Quinn has a bit of a gap before he has another game, and there's absolutely zero urgency or desire from you to leave the spot you're in. You've never been more comfortable.

Every date night goes the same way. Quinn picks you up from your apartment, bringing flowers to the door and wowing over your outfit. Looking at you like it's the first time as he calls you beautiful or pretty or any other compliment he can think of, before taking you to dinner somewhere the two of you have been wanting to try. Dinner is always fun, the two of you bantering back and forth, feet hooking together under the table, and hands twisted together on the tablecloth whenever you're not eating. Then Quinn always asks if you want to come back to his for a movie, every single time you say yes as he helps you into your coat and into his car. Like clockwork you always end up curled up together on the sofa, something playing in the background that neither of you are really paying attention to and like always you end up staying the night, the spare toothbrush now not spare, but yours, and a couple of drawers holding your essentials for the inevitable sleepover. Sometimes Quinn jokes that you might as well move in, except it's not really a joke and you both know that the minute your lease is up you'll do just that.

Quinn's cheek is pressed into the crown of your head as you lay back together across the sofa, your legs are tangled like tree roots, one of his hands resting on your thigh that's slung over his lap, the other wrapped around your shoulders, fingers brushing soothing circles into your upper arm. Your eyes feel heavy in that soft, comfortable sort of way, not sleepy but relaxed as you lean into the crook of his neck, pressing the odd kiss to his shoulder every so often - lazy, content, sweet.

He loves moments like this, where he's not captain, just Quinn, just your boyfriend. Where he can watch the way your shoulders relax around him, feel the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips, the press of your lips to his shoulder. It's that sort of slow intimacy that has him tilting your head towards him, hand cupping your cheek as you rearrange yourselves to face each other.

"You're so pretty, baby..." It's a mumble, soft and sweet, his bottom lip poking out just ahead of his top. You're tempted to catch it between your own but don't get a chance before he's pressing his lips to your forehead, dragging them down across your temple and cheek.

The scratch of his beard tickles slightly and it has you twitching and pursing your lips to contain a giggle. That little shake of your shoulders as you try to hide it has Quinn stopping just shy of your lips, hovering in place with that delectable smirk of his that he gets from time to time (but not often enough).

"Does my beard scratch, baby?"

"Nooo..." You deny it even as he teasingly brushes his cheek against yours, purposefully brushing the bristles of his beard against your skin until you squirm in his lap, twisting yourself up and above him to avoid it. Your hands planted firmly on his chest as if that will keep him away from you and keep your skin free of beard burn. As if you're strong enough to stop him if he truly wants something.

It's not a sensation you actually dislike despite the way you scurry out of his reach, in fact, he knows you love when he grows out his beard. The scratch of it always sends little shivers down your spine, but it sets your nerve endings off in a way that always makes you giggle like a little kid. It's cute, has been since the first time he kissed you and you pulled away laughing in such an endearing way he couldn't even be offended.

Quinn doesn't let you scurry away for long, flipping the two of you until you're on your back underneath him, he shifts a pillow under your neck as he does so. A small gesture but one that speaks volumes about his priority of making sure you're always comfortable. His hands bracket your head, nose brushing against yours as he stares down at you under his lashes, big eyes softening at the corners. He's so beautiful that you think you might combust in that moment, having all his attention on you like that makes you squirm.

"You're such a liar. This doesn't scratch? At all?" He doesn't give you much time to answer. Long fingers and wide palm of his hand gently encircling your neck, thumb hitting just underneath your jaw, holding you in place as he scrapes his face against yours roughly, the scratch of his beard across your cheek forcing a giggle from your throat that has him stopping briefly just to savour it. It's one of his favourite sounds.

The reprieve doesn't last long, Quinn moves, rubbing his cheek down from your own to the sensitive skin of your neck. Your legs kicking out at the sensation, fingers grasping the back of his shirt as you laugh harder, despite all protests you lean your head away to give him more room.

"Oh, yeah, this totally doesn't scratch! Not a tickle, huh? Such a liar, pretty girl." He rubs his beard across your neck and shoulder, the sensation has your toes curling, a hand sliding up his neck and into his hair, fingers gripping tight to silky brunet strands.

"Quinn!" You laugh it out, but there's a hint of desire riding your tone, eyelids fluttering closed. The scratch of his beard, one of your guilty pleasures, a secret you think you have kept well, but that Quinn knows all about. Has ever since the first time he shaved and your eyes held nothing but disappointment that you tried your best to hide, same way he knows you love when he keeps his hair a little longer. You're terrible at poker.

"Nuh, this is your punishment for lying to me!" He stops briefly to press a kiss into the underside of your jaw, even then his beard scratches as he does it, an inescapable sensation that has your fingers tightening in his hair, "Not really a punishment though is it, baby?"

"Shut up..." You mumble it out, embarrassment riding your tone even as your toes curl and your back arches into him, a leg rising to wrap around his and pull him closer.

"Oh, what? Cause you're embarrassed? My pretty girl's embarrassed that she likes my beard?" He brushes his cheek back against yours again for emphasis, nose trailing across your cheek.

"Quuiiinnnn..."It's an embarrassed sort of whine you let out as you turn your head into the pillow behind you, cheeks warm as a squirm out of embarrassment and something like desire winds its way to your stomach.

His fingers grip your jaw, turning your face back towards him, not allowing you more than a moment to hide away from him. Quinn's lips find their way to yours, open mouthed and soft as he captures your bottom lip between his. He lowers himself down to you, body squishing yours into the sofa, hips rocking against yours in a targeted fashion. You pull at his hair as you writhe beneath him, legs trying to pull him closer, a sigh breathed against his mouth like a prayer.

"You were saying?"

"Shut up..." It's an absent sort of mumble, unable to really think of anything else to say when he's this close to you, this warm, when all you really want is for him to kiss you again.

"Is that the only thing your pretty little head can come up with right now?" He's being mean as he squishes your cheeks together, lips a breath from yours as he mimicks you, "'Quinn!' 'Shut up!'"

"You're being mean..." You pout even as the familiar burning twisting sensation stirs in your gut, even as you struggle not to wiggle your hips against him and pull him in for a kiss.

"I guess I should get off you then, since I'm so mean?" He starts to move away, your head shaking vehemently no at the illusion of distance, "Oh, no? Thought I was mean?" Quinn attempts to push off and move away from you, arms defined and strong, straightened up next your head as he pretends to pull off you.

"Stay, please?" Your legs lock around him like a vice as he attempts to back up and put distance between you under the pretence of leaving, teasing you even as he has absolutely no intention of actually going anywhere.

"Is that all you want, sweet girl? Just me to stay right," he punctuates the end of his sentence with a roll of his hips back between yours "here?" He's rock hard against you, but he doesn't really care, this isn't really about him, it's about you and all he wants is to get you off. He could care less if he cums tonight. Not when you're whining into his neck and looking up at him like you might cry if he pulls away from you right now. Clingy and needy, desperate for him in a way that has his heart. He loves the idea that its him you want, only him, that no one else can fill that space.

Your neck almost cracks with how rapidly you shake your head, because as much as you want him to stay pressed against you, warm and heavy and delicious, you're not sure if that's enough anymore. Not when Quinn's commanding your attention, domineering over you like the captain he is.

"Use your words, baby, 'm not a mind reader, can't read that pretty little brain of yours." It's breathed out against the shell of your ear, the first stop before his lips trail down the side of your neck. This time the scratch of his beard is anything but funny, a little whimper leaving your throat as he sucks a hickey into your neck, one he's determined to make stay for at least a week, next to the beard burn you're definitely going to have as well.

"Want you, Quinny" Your fingers make their way back to his hair, its grown out so far in the season, long enough for you to tug on it when his own long fingers slide between you and tap your sternum.

"I'm right here, baby." It's frustrating and even more so as you squirm because you can feel his smirk against your neck, know he's purposefully acting like he doesn't know that you want his fingers in you.

"No, want you." you try to emphasis the point without words, too shy, always too shy to say what you're actually thinking and wanting and it always gets to Quinn. God, you're so fucking cute, how you refuse to tell him even while you're rutting against him and tugging on his hair.

"Here?" His fingers slip further down, hand pressed against your belly before slipping around to your waist, grip tight but not enough to leave marks.

You shake your head again, frustration building as you try to wiggle his hand lower.

"No? Mmm.." A kiss lands on the front of your throat and down to the dip where your sternum starts, while his hand moves again this time to your outer thigh, pulling you leg tighter against his hip, "Here?"

"Baby..." your voice actually cracks and breaks and when he pulls back to look at you there are tears in your eyes, frustrated tears that get to him and make him more than a little weak for you. He loves you too much to keep teasing you, pressing a kiss to your lips before mumbling against them.

"Oh, I see, you want me here instead, huh?" Quinn presses his thigh up between your legs, pressing firm against your cunt. You really can’t help it as you roll your hips against the intrusion, the fabric of your underwear brushing against your sensitive clit with each roll. It's an attempt, an effort to find some sort of friction, some sort of relief from the desire that burns in your belly and has your panties slick.

"Sweet girl wants to ride my fingers till she gets off? I got you, baby, don't worry." He doesn't expect a response and he doesn't get one, not really, just a babbling mess of words that broadens his smirk because you’re so pretty rutting against his thigh as you lie underneath him. You tug at his hair so hard he nearly hisses, but he's taken worse hits in a game before and he'd let you pull all his hair out to hear the way you whine under him.

Quinn's mouth covers yours at the same time as his hand slides up your thigh, long fingers pushing your panties to the slide quickly. Even quicker is the way he slides one finger into you, thumb seeking your clit in double time, as you moan into his mouth, hips wriggling against his hand.

"You're so fucking wet, baby, this all for me?" He murmurs it against your lips, thumb circling your clit as he presses a second finger into you, curling them until he finds that spongy little spot inside you, the spot that has you crying out his name and gasping for air, back arching off of the sofa and towards him.

There's not much mercy from Quinn as he thrusts his fingers into you, each time determined to curl against that same spot, his lips kissing from your mouth to behind your ear, sucking and licking hickies into your skin like your his own personal Monet painting.

It’s a third finger stretching you open, eased by the sheer amount of wetness that you drip with, and the way his beard scratches at the delicate skin of your neck, creating a shivery sort of delight through you, that has you cumming so hard and so fast that you think he might have broken a world record. You're gripping so tight around Quinn's fingers that he worries he might lose circulation in them.

You whine and moan his name so loud that he’s grateful he lives alone, no roommates, no brothers, no parents. Your body shivers and rolls, tensing and relaxing as your orgasm rolls through you in waves, as Quinn works you through it, thumb rubbing your clit and fingers still working against you but more gently this time, careful of your overstimulated nerves. “Fuck, there we go, I got you, baby...look at you, so fucking pretty."

Your hips jerk away from his touch, overstimulated and overly sensitive, Quinn lets you push his hand away, drags it out of your panties and catches your eye as he slips his fingers into his mouth, sucking you from his skin. He hums like you're the sweetest thing he's ever tasted and in his opinion you might just be.

His hand, still wet from his spit, cups your cheek gently. You press your cheek into it, eyes blinking up slowly at him as he rubs soft circles there. Soft and tender as he waits for you to catch your breath and come back down from it all, as his eyes watch you for any ounce of discomfort.

“You okay, baby?”

"Mmm...?" Quinn can't help but chuckle at the way you look up at him a little dumb smile on your face, eyes half-lidded and hazy. He’d be worried if I hadn’t seen that look on your face before.

"That good, huh? Got you a little stupid, baby?"

"Mmmm..." Quinn presses soft kisses across your face. Hitting the high points of your cheeks, the top of your forehead, the tip of your nose and the end of your chin. Careful as he helps you come down from it all, you start coming too a little, worried as you call out that he hasn't cum yet and he just shushes you. Tells you this wasn't about him, that he's fine and really, he is. He's happy just servicing you tonight, he knows he'll get his reward in the morning, the soft sort of sex that's all tender and sweet, the best kind.

He eases himself off you, even as you whine about it, hands and fingers grabbing at him, trying to pull him close again, always clingy after you cum.

“Need to get you cleaned up and ready for bed, baby...'m not goin' anywhere, don't worry.” Quinn's hands find yours, pulling you up with him as he stands from the sofa.

He's gentle as he guides you and your wobbly legs to the bathroom, as he helps you undress fully and stand under the warmth of the shower. His hands soft as he washes between your legs and over your sweat soaked skin, pressing soft soothing kisses into the beard burn and hickeys across your neck, even as he smirks proud of himself, of the marks he's left on your skin, claiming you as his for anyone to see.

He's careful as he washes your hair and helps you remove your makeup that has smudged. He's steady and sure as he helps you into one of 'your' favourite t-shirts, one you stole from him and claimed months ago.

You breathe out a soft sigh when you finally curl up under the covers with him, his body engulfing yours in his arms, pulling you back tight against him. You feel safe, so utterly at peace that it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep in Quinn's arms, even as he keeps his eyes on you with a soft smile, more than happy to stay awake just a little longer, just to capture this moment for a little while.

[nctsworld]

fever pitch

✩‌ mark x reader | pro baseball player!mark | fluff | smut | 8.4k

SUMMARY | your world is shaken up (literally) when you meet the handsome man guilty of the accidental baseball smack to your head. after a comforting meet-cute and realization that he’s the city’s ace pitcher, you two go on a date. and by the end of the night, mark thinks he’s falling for you faster than any pitch he’s thrown before.

WARNINGS | sexual content (near the end), arm riding (iykyk), breast/nipple play, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, piv sex, some drinking // this is 80% fluff-20% smut (with lots of corny writing); there's actually not too much baseball mentioned, but i did a little research on it; however, inaccuracies may be inevitable!

RATING | mature

AUTHOR'S NOTE | i am sorry this is so late </3 i hope y'all enjoy! please also check out (and maybe send in some prompts to) @nctpromptmeme!

TAGLIST | @curieouscapt @dearlyminhyung @infnteen

Under the warm, summer sun, you beam as you walk towards your close friend, Chenle, and his dog, Daegal.

Shining back, he nods in hello to you with sunglasses pressed against his face. The teacup Bichon by his side wags its tail and pants happily at the sight of you, but is easily distracted the next second due to the park’s stimulating surroundings.

Dogs running amok, families having picnics, kids chasing each other in circles, friends playing baseball—

Specifically, a group of absolutely stunning men playing, as if a model catalogue exploded onto the field across from you.

But one in particular catches your eye.

Kind eyes shine behind wire-framed glasses, paired with a wide smile. His soft hair bounces with his light jog across the area.  

In his fitted white tee, he ends up in one spot and continuously throws the ball into his mitt. The game seems to be on hold as he speaks to a teammate. Absentmindedly, he rolls his arm sleeves up, revealing lean, yet defined muscles.

You silently gasp, struck by the beautiful sight, then gulp at the flexing of his biceps when he continues tossing the ball. His teammate must’ve told him a joke since the attractive figure throws his head back in joy.

And this is the exact moment you go into cardiac arrest because his laugh is the last straw of what you can handle from this man.  

Suddenly, the sound of your name shakes you out of your daze and reminds you to breathe.

“Okay, which one of these guys is the one who made you do a full stop in the middle of the grass?” Chenle asks, coming up beside you.

Daegal welcomes you with loving rubs against your leg. You squat to pet her, but your eyes are still honed in on the handsome stranger. The teams seems to be switching now when someone hands the bespectacled man a bat.

Your friend tracks your line of sight and nods, impressed. “Okay, he’s cute. Your distractedness will be excused this time.”

Scoffing, you shove his leg lightly and he giggles in return. After a few more moments of gawking, Chenle wonders, “Why do I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere?”

Standing up, you reply, “Probably comes here often with his friends when you walk Daegal?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I feel like I know him from somewhere else...”

Deciding you should probably drag your attention away and not be a blatant creep, you begin to walk away backwards, heading towards the ice cream cart before the line-up becomes as long as the field.

“Want your usual?”

“Yes, please!”

However, Chenle’s brightness fades instantly, jaw falling and eyes widening. You’re about to turn around to see what caused his change of expression when you hear a piercing—

“WATCH OUT!”

With a throbbing in your head, you wake up, squinting at the blinding rays. Coming into view, the cute guy from before replaces the sun’s spot, staring down at you with concern written all over his face.

“Oh, my God,” he pants. His hands shake in front of him. “I am so, so, so, so sorry.”

You roll your eyes a bit, trying to center your vision. Groaning, you ask, “What happened?”

“I, uh...” The individual’s mouth, slightly open with gritted teeth, pulls to one side as he runs a hand through his hair, “may have batted the ball and it coincidentally went straight for your head.”

Carefully, he helps lift your upper body off the ground. He asks if you’re okay, and you nod. But a grimace comes after, causing the stranger’s frown to deepen.

“Maybe we should get you to the hospital. You might have a concussion.”

All of a sudden, he inches closer and gingerly runs his thumb over the source of the throbbing. It’s likely all in your mind, but you swear the pain lessens from his touch. You tilt your head further, angling into his palm and embracing the comforting gesture.

“I’ll obviously cover all the bills—”

You cut him off with a slow lift of your hand. “No. I’m okay, I’m okay.”

You know you’ll definitely be more than okay if you can steal some more time with his magical touch.

Continuing, you say, “And that’s too much. If anything, you can buy some ice cream for me and my friend.”

Glancing around for Chenle, you find him, crouching like the stranger, but a few feet away. With a raised corner of his mouth, you deduce he’s deliberately giving space for you to interact with Mr. Handsome Baseball Hitter.

Said handsome baseball hitter chuckles. Hearing it tugs at your chest, even harder now that you can experience it up close.

“I’ll buy you a thousand ice creams to make it up to you.” He retreats his hand and you don't hold back pouting from the fleeting contact you already miss. “But seriously, if there’s any long-term side effects, please reach out to me and I’ll pay for any expenses that come your way.”

“How would I know how to reach out to you?”

He rambles the following matter-of-factly, “Well, you can find my manager’s information online, there’s the team’s Twitter account”—he looks up cutely in thought—“and I guess I’ve been kinda active on Instagram—”

You tilt your head in confusion. What is this guy going on about?

“Okay,” you interrupt, “but who are you?”

His face flips through a few emotions in the span of seconds, but they’re unreadable. Finally landing on a grin, he says, “I think what’s more important is: do you know who you are?”

“Yeah, I’m—” And you properly introduce yourself.

“Good,” he says, “so we’re not dealing with amnesia.”

Your cheeks rise at his humour. Saying your name warmly, he adds, “Nice to meet you, I’m Mark.”

He lends out a hand for you to shake and you do so. With help from his knees, he rises upward, aiding you to stand on your feet in the process.

“Mark,” you repeat his name aloud, locking eyes with him, “the baseball batter with the strength of a thousand suns.”

At the odd line, you catch yourself, thinking how the injury must’ve loosened your filter. He laughs at the lengthy label. “You should see me pitch.”

You shake your head. “Nu-uh, nope,” you playfully say. “I’m going to be safe and stay far, far away from that sexy arm.”

Both you and Mark’s eyebrows rise at the remark.

Yep, definitely a loose filter. Maybe you really do have a concussion.

While Mark breaks out into a pleased smile, you snap your eyes shut, wanting to run away. Or disappear, if at all possible. “Strong, strong. I meant strong...”

Avoiding eye contact, you hurry and make way to a now standing Chenle. Trying to leave the embarrassment behind, you grumble, “Chenle, let’s get going.”

Your friend smirks and whispers by your side, “You sure you don’t want to dig your grave even further?” You attempt to elbow him, but he’s too quick and avoids it.

“It was nice meeting you, Mark,” you call out over your shoulder as you walk away. “Thanks for looking out for... my head?”

Cringe falls over, making you pick up your pace. Time to officially stop talking.

Chenle turns away, his body shaking as he releases a snicker into his fist.

“Again, I’m really, really sorry!” Mark apologizes in a shout. You can hear the sincerity in his voice, and also recognize his voice as the one who warned you to watch out before the incident occurred. “If you need to find me, I’ll be here over the next couple of weekends!”

When you’re far away enough from the scene of the crime, you smack Chenle in the arm. In response, Daegal chirps a bark at you. “You just had to watch me make a complete fool out of myself back there.”

He lovingly places an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into him. “I mean, Daegal’s great and all, but if anyone has any entertainment value out of the three of us here, it’s going to be you.”

You groan at his harsh, yet true, words.

“Your head good though?”

You note how the throbbing is barely there anymore. Touching the spot, you wince. At most, there’s likely just a bruise. “Yeah, it’s good.”

In a hopeful tone, Chenle sing-songs, “Think you wanna come to the park again with me next weekend?”

Reflecting on what Mark said, you ponder if he really meant it about coming to find him if anything was wrong. Even though everything would likely be fine, you’d love to see him again. 

But how could you face him after the disaster of your mouth running free? You shake your head in defeat.

On Monday night, the next evening, your phone goes off right as you enter your apartment building. You drag your phone out, eyebrows furrowing at the notification that Chenle’s calling you. When was the last time he’s called you?

Actually, you’re fairly sure he’s never called you. Ever. You pick it up without hesitation. 

“Hey, everything okay?”

“Find a TV playing the baseball game,” Chenle pants. “Right now.”

Out of all the things he could call you for, this is what he’s asking you to do? He’s not even into baseball; basketball is the sport he adores to death. “What?”

“Do it,” he orders. “Now!”

“Okay, okay.”

Thankful you haven’t gone up to your apartment yet, you stride over to the little in-house gym in your building near the front entrance. You haven’t used it much since you moved in, but you recall that the TVs usually play either sports or news.

And you remember right, except at the moment, the baseball game is the only event plastered on the screens. Most people in the room are fixated on the game while they’re doing their set or on their respective cardio machine.

“Okay...” you trail in uncertainty. A pitcher from your city’s team throws the ball and the batter misses. The camera cuts to the batter from the opposing team, shaking his head in disappointment. “Why must I need to watch the baseball game so ba—”

The camera’s now on Mark’s face.

The same Mark from the neighbourhood park yesterday, sans the glasses, and in proper baseball gear.

He’s on live, national television, playing baseball in front of the crowd of tens of thousands of people.  

From a side angle, all eyes are on him as he tips his cap forward. His eyes mold into slits of concentration, his sharp jaw tightening after a lick of his lips. Sure, he’s different from yesterday’s care-free self, but you’d be lying if you said this serious side of him didn’t turn you on either.

Again, the camera cuts away, to the wide shot from behind him. Besides his great body (especially his gorgeous backside in those snug pants), you revel in the back of his white and dark green trimmed jersey, indicating his last name and his assigned number: Lee. 02.

He winds up for the pitch, raising his leg, and the ball is gone within a blink of an eye, landing directly into the catcher’s glove. The number 98 comes up near a rectangle on-screen, signifying the speed of his throw.

Mark wasn’t lying about his skills; he’s the pitcher with the strength of a thousand suns.

All the screens are filled with Player #02’s glimmer of a smirk, before he quickly stashes it away behind his cap. The camera lingers on him while the commentators in the background talk.

“A great put-out pitch for Lee,” one says. “His fastballs this season have been absolutely remarkable. Another great one from him.”

Cameras switch to another shot of Mark catching the ball, resetting once more for the next batter.

Another commentator supplements, “Aside from the slight hiccup earlier this season, he’s definitely on-track in making his mark on his debut in the league. A rookie ace indeed. It’s no wonder they’ve been calling him ‘The Tiger!’”

Understanding dawns upon you as to why he stated how easy it would be to contact him (and to be able to pay for any potential hospital bills). The city’s new star pitcher—how could you not know him?

“I knew he looked familiar!” Chenle pipes up from the other end, just as Mark’s nice figure takes up the screen once more. Awe and shock consume your voice, and you’re unable to create a coherent reply.

But you don’t need to, not when you have Chenle to talk your ear off about the game, but mostly Mark, for the rest of the night.

The week passes by, with you casually going through Mark’s Instagram (which, as he mentioned, he only occasionally posts on) and watching a few more of Mark’s games with Chenle in tow. 

You fawn together over his plays (and his ass) and, despite not knowing much about the game, he must be having a great week from the commentators’ constant praises and the team’s overall wins.

Once Sunday finally arrives though, a wave of nervous anticipation rolls over you.

Because for you, it’s game time.

Sure, you may not have initially wanted to, but now that you know who Mark is, what is there to lose if you step up to the plate and see him again?

The scene of the park is quite similar to last week’s, except for the large presence of people staring at the men, many you recognize from the city’s team from all the games you’ve watched this week, playing baseball on the field. You wonder if you were too caught up with Mark last week because you didn’t notice how everyone else was this enraptured too.

As you stroll closer to the grassy area with Chenle and Daegal hovering behind, the players coincidentally take a breather. Some parents quickly take advantage of the break to bring their children up to receive autographs.

This is perfect timing for you too.

However, you stop in place, debating if this was a good idea to return. You’re surely going to make a fool out of yourself again (this time with no injury to blame) and Chenle, despite his promise of not interfering, will totally budge in and—

And it’s too late to backpedal, because Mark, although distracted by the little cluster of people surrounding him, lifts his head momentarily and his gaze lands directly on you.

Air seizes in your lungs when he flashes you a grin that could compete with the sun. He gives a small nod and wave. Like a star struck fangirl, you glance around to ensure he’s not gifting that nod and wave to anyone else. 

But no, you’re not mistaken—his eyes are only on you.

Saying his thanks to his assumed fans, he jogs his way over to you, attired today in a fitted grey-mixed tee, ripped denim jeans, and thicker framed glasses compared to last time.

“Hey,” Mark says, still grinning beautifully. “How’s your head feeling?”

His smile is incredibly infectious. It’s a challenge not to do the same when you’re in the presence of this man. “Better. Had some bruising, but it’s all gone now.”

He nods in response, mumbling a “Good, good” under his breath. With his face turned away, he swipes some hair behind his ear and seems to be preparing himself to say something. But, you will yourself to address the elephant in the room first.

“So, why didn’t you tell me that you were in the major leagues?”

At the unexpected question, Mark darts his head up and draws it back in surprise, his lips pouting adorably. Your heart bursts.

Contrasting his cuteness, you notice the hint of stubble around his mouth. First the pout, now this. You’re captivated by it more than you should be.

He chuckles and lifts a shoulder. “Well, you didn’t ask.”

“I did,” you laugh. “I asked who you were!”

After looking up in thought for a moment, he concedes. “Okay, maybe you did.”

You two laugh in unison, and even when the moment is over, both of you stare into each other's eyes. Time’s filled with comfortable silence and equally comfortable smiles. 

Mark breaks the silence, asking, “Are you still wanting to stay safe and far away from my sexy arm?”

“Oh, my God...” you groan, hating to hear the same words that left your mouth from last week.

“No,” he says through another burst of laughter, “it’s a genuine question.”

“I meant to say strong!” you argue petulantly. “I was just a little out of it from the hit, no thanks to you.”

“I know, I know,” he giggles. “I’m genuinely wondering though, cause...” Mark pauses and begins to fidget, this time rubbing the nape of his neck. 

You tilt your head, intrigued. “Cause what?”

“Cause, I was, uh, wondering,” he says, eyes averting yours. “Since I owe you for your head injury—”

“You don’t owe me anything—”

“And I know it’s a long shot cause you’re absolutely gorgeous and you’re probably taken—”

This time, you draw your head back in surprise over the compliment and the grand assumption that you’re off the market. 

“—but did you wanna go out with me sometime?” His hand moves through his hair before he shyly looks at you again. “Maybe?”

Before you can even process what's happening you hear a "Yes!" behind you, causing you to jolt upright. “Yes, she will absolutely go on a date with you!”

“Chenle!” you gasp, appalled but not surprised, in the direction of your close friend as he nears your side. You face Mark again and gesture in the direction of the incoming intruder. “Don’t mind him.”

As per his charming self, your friend holds out a hand. “Hi, I’m Chenle. Your newest number one fan. Great plays this week, by the way.”

“Mark.” He takes the hand to shake, giving him a small smile. “And thanks.”

Mark’s eyes wander down and notices the dog wagging its tail excitedly. His face lights up. “Aw, who’s this cute little guy?”

“Daegal,” Chenle answers. “She’s my little handful, besides this one.” he says, jerking his head in your direction. Mark's too focused on Daegal to see you slapping her owner in the arm. 

Squatting down, he pets the lively dog. You follow suit and crouch down too, watching Daegal gift Mark tons of licks and enthusiastically rubs herself against his hands and arms. She’s never this delighted with strangers usually. 

“What do you think, Daegal?” Mark asks, holding eye contact with her as if she could reply, then he glances over at you. “Do you think your friend should go out with me?”

Immediately, she barks happily, causing all three of you to laugh. 

“Good girl,” Chenle whispers from above.

Although you pucker your lips playfully at Daegal’s betrayal, you reach out to pet her fondly along with Mark. 

“But how will you guarantee my safety from your strong arm?” Your stare lingers on them. Not that he has to know, but you had to make a conscious effort to not say sexy once more.

“I promise I won’t be tossing any more of my balls in your direction,” Mark casually says.

After a pause, your eyebrows raise and his eyes widen.

“Wait, I mean—shit...” he hisses, closing his eyes and shaking his head. Your lips twitch, suppressing a laugh and finding him adorable.

“I know what you mean,” you quickly say, relieving him of his embarrassment.

He shyly glances up at you and you share a comforting look. Suddenly, someone from the field hollers his name. With a small frown, he begins to walk in reverse away from you.

“I probably should get back, but now that you know how to get in touch, message me on Instagram and we can figure out a time that works for our date?”

“Yes, definitely!”

Incredulously, you look up at Chenle for answering on your behalf.

“For sure, Mark,” you say. “Have a great game.” With the way he plays, you know he will.

Chenle and you wave your good-byes to him and watch him retreat to his friends.

“You do know that I'm the one he asked out, right?” you ask as the three of you begin to walk towards to the park's popular ice cream cart, except you're more vigilant this time.

Your friend grabs out cash, ready to pay for your order. Or at least you hope so, for all the trouble he caused.

“Yes, and that's why I will live vicariously through you!”

After messaging him over the last week (with Chenle hovering over your shoulder and backseat driving many of the messages), Thursday really couldn't come fast enough for your date with Mark.

As you step out of your apartment complex, your jaw drops and an impressed smile fills your face.

In a green bomber, black tee, and skinny jeans, Mark coolly pulls up on a red Ducati motorbike. You recall seeing a post or two on his Instagram with it, but it takes you by surprise to see it in-person.

He takes off his helmet and runs fingers through his hair, attempting to ruffle out the messiness. You're a little envious of how good he looks, even with messy hair.

Your date takes in your outfit—an off-the-shoulder floral dress that teeters the lines of being cute and sexy simultaneously—and beams.

“Wow,” he says, mouth agape. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you say, then make an over-the-top attempt to check him out. “You don't look so bad yourself.”

After a moment of shared smiles, he tilts his head towards his mode of transportation. “Hope this isn't too daunting.”

You shake your head. “Not at all.”

As Mark helps you with your helmet, now that you're up-close, you notice he's clean-shaven, unlike the other times you've seen him, and you presume he opted for contacts for tonight.

You also can't help but relish in the proximity of his hands near your face, flashing previously to the first time you met only a couple of weeks ago.

Once he's done, you ready yourself for the ride by wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, holding onto him snugly.

He twists around with his visor open.

“Ready?”

You respond with a squeeze around his waist and a nod, so he closes his visor and you're off through the nightscape of the city.

Everything passes by in a blur, but when there are the occasional moments when he slows down or stops at the red lights, you drink in how beautiful your city is.

On the other hand, you're dying to know what Mark planned for tonight. He gave you a vague idea—dinner, a small post-dinner activity (no balls involved, Mark promised), and dessert—but that's all.

In a nicer part of the city, he stops and parks in front of a bumbling Italian restaurant.

Once inside, Mark gives his name to the greeter, stating how he has a reservation, and a sweet host immediately leads you to your table. As you walk through the restaurant, you admire its warm atmosphere with dim lights and candles spread everywhere, along with the many other couples eating their dinner.

The host stops in front of a secluded semi-circular plush booth. You shimmy in, and Mark follows. Both of you sit comfortably close near the middle of the booth.

Despite how much you have been talking through DMs over the last week, as first dates often go, conversation is awkward at first.

However, as dinner progresses and the extravagant wine (Mark insisted, “Only the best for my date, please.”) makes its way through your systems, it gets easier.

You learn more about his family, his team, and his love for reading. For him, he learns about your friends, your job vs. dreams constant conflict, and your love for music.

The easiness also goes beyond words. Underneath the table, your legs brush up against one another's. You throw your head back in laughter, and you bravely touch his forearm in response. Mark even leans in close to your body, sometimes the edge of your shoulders gently pressing into the other.

By the end of dinner, being the gentleman he is, Mark doesn't even let you glance at the check and pays it all without hesitation. Then, you're outside and on his motorbike again, off to the mysterious post-dinner activity.

When he reaches a particular end of town where there isn't much around except one place, you have an inkling where you're about to go.

Once you're there and parked, your hunch is answered correctly, but you realize something.

“Isn't the aquarium closed at this hour?”

He shrugs nonchalantly and begins to usher you forward with a hand lingering at your lower back. Whispering into your ear, he says, “I may have booked it privately for tonight.”

As you walk through, Mark and you stick to each other's side, shoulder to shoulder, and switch between revealing more about yourselves while reading and conversing about the informational signs on the aquatic creatures.

Both of you stop in front of the main showcase of the aquarium: the large tank that houses two beluga whales.

Mark leans in a bit closer to the tank, catches sight of one of them in a corner, and points it out to you. As he straightens, you feel the back of your hand brush up against his.

“You’re quite the romantic,” you state while glancing at the tank, almost as low as a whisper. Even with nobody around, there's something so serene about the aquarium that makes you want to be respectfully quiet. "Does everyone get this first-date, first-class experience from you?”

“Only the girls who get hit on the head by me,” he teases in a whisper, making you softly chuckle.

After a moment passes as you watch the tank, hoping and waiting for the beluga whales to move to where you're standing, Mark asks, “Would it be surprising to say I don’t go on dates as often as you think?”

Your eyes dart toward him, but you quickly keep your gaze fixated back on the tank. You nod. “A little.”

He hums, followed by a lengthy sigh. You can sense a shift in him. You hear how it's laced with sadness, maybe even a little regret.

“I’ve been working so hard to get to this point and of course being drafted’s been so worth it, but it also meant that I had to sacrifice some things along the way. But now that I’m finally here”—you feel his gaze now directed on you—“I definitely can rearrange my time for other things.”

Your breathing slows as you turn to face him.

Courageously, Mark intertwines his hand with yours and his free one raises, caressing the bare skin of your upper arm. The contact makes you gasp and hold your breath.

He drags himself forward, as do you, and his hand is about to cup your face...

Until the two belugas are now your front-row audience, glancing at you as if they were smiling.

You both chuckle softly and give them a wave, not wanting to lose this rare chance of seeing them this close.

And although the special moment has passed, you two finish off the marine life tour with your hand in his.

Once outside, Mark leads you somewhere nearby. After about ten minutes of walking, you're standing on a large cliff with a scenic view of the city. You've never seen the city from this height before, and all its twinkling lights and the starry sky beckon you.

An ice cream truck is also coincidentally there, and you assume Mark booked it for your date tonight.

You two grab your waffle cone orders and sit down on a wooden bench that overlooks the view.

“So,” you say, licking the cone on its side to avoid the ice cream from dripping down your hand, “does this go towards the debt of you hitting my head?”

“Of course,” he nods with his signature smile, doing the same as you and trying to avoid his sweet treat from melting. “It'll be one ice cream out of the many future thousands.”

The implication that there’ll be more than just this date hangs in the night air, almost as if it's a promise, and you really hope it'll be true.

At the very least, it feels true as you peer over your city, leaning your head onto Mark's shoulder while he casually drapes an arm around you.

Getting off the motorcycle, Mark walks you to the front door of your place and you don't even think twice about asking if he wants to come in. He says yes a little too enthusiastically, making you giggle, but it confirms that neither of you want the night to come to an end just yet.

Mark hangs his jacket as you grab beers from the fridge. Both of you make talk for some time on your couch, but the energy in the room is buzzing, especially since the almost-kiss.

The second you gravitate towards Mark, he rushes to wrap an arm around your waist and his free hand cups your face, dragging you in for the first kiss that's been itching to happen.

His lips are dangerously soft, addictive really. You swear he tastes like cherry (could be from the food earlier or maybe a lip balm flavour, you wonder).

It's a slow, yet deep, start. In the beginning, the kissing is with intent, wanting to know what each other tastes like. Naturally, the curiosity evolves into exploration, with Mark cautiously dipping his tongue into your mouth. You react with zeal, swiping your tongue against his and even experiment sucking on it. He shudders at the sensation.

Mark holds you close throughout, but your bodies move into a new position, letting you sink comfortably into your couch beneath him.

Here, passion rises. He grips your waist, whilst his body presses into yours, and he begins to trail down your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Although it's already off your shoulders, he drags a sleeve of your dress further down, hungry to kiss as much of your bare skin as he possibly can.

Your fingers tangle in his hair and you arch into him, embracing his clear desire against you. You're falling and falling and falling, becoming more drunk with every touch and kiss from Mark. Ever since the first day you met, you couldn't help but yearn for his touch. Now, having a taste of him like this, you're desperate to experience more.

Although you're underneath him, you decide to take hold of the kissing. When he takes a breather for an instant, you steal the chance and fervently kiss along his jaw and rugged neck. Mark moans, gripping your waist harder, and grinds into you, his hardness dying to be free.

Shockingly, he suddenly tears away, sitting up and panting. Confused, you mirror him.

“Should we stop?” he asks. “Like, I know I might be being presumptuous, but I don’t wanna ruin our potential next date if we rush too soon?”

It melts your heart that he retracted because he's concerned over your potential future. You delicately rearrange some of his loose hair stuck to his forehead. “If you want to stop, we can.”

He pouts, reminding you of him previously at the park, followed by a cute whimper.

“But I don’t want to stop...” he laugh-smiles, leaning into you, about to drive his mouth into yours again.

“Neither do I.”

And with that, Mark makes the split-second decision to continue this good thing and not look back. Once again, he's leaving love upon your shoulders, at a measured pace currently, and he carefully lowers your dress. Drooping off your shoulders, you let it drop and bunch around your stomach.

Surprise is written on his face, as you didn't wear a bra underneath your dress, but the surprise quickly dissipates into enthrallment over the beautiful sight.

He lowers himself, mouth traversing across your chest while his free hand gently massages one of your breasts. You succumb to the rising pleasure, curving into him again.

When he arrives at one tip of yours, he looks up and asks, his voice low and gravelly, “Can I...?”

You whimper-nod, already on the verge of begging him to take the next step.

It kills you that he teases first, merely pecking the surrounding area and your tip; his mouth leaving goosebumps in its wake. Your patience grows thin.

“Mark, please, just—”

Air is depleted as his tongue swipes against your nipple in a broad stroke. He then wraps his mouth around it, sucking firmly. The other hand that was kneading your other breast turns to focus on your nipple, pinching it between his index finger and thumb.

The more he sucks, the more you hear the wet puckering of his lips, the more it makes you clench tighter. Bliss begins to boil in your abdomen when he flicks his tongue and mimics the same on your other tit with the pad of his thumb.

Your breathing grows heavier, and you sense you're close, but Mark abruptly stops. You're about to speak up, believing he'd be the type to finish you off if you ask, until you realize he's kneeling on the floor in front of you and stripping off his t-shirt.

With your help, Mark eases your dress to the floor and places it safely on the coffee table. Focusing on you, his gaze is dripping of lust—so carnal, so different than his regular self.

As Mark advances to your heat, your palms graze over his defined shoulders and back. He parts your legs further with his hands wrapped around your inner thigh.

“Wearing panties?” he inquires, his finger pulling the fabric a bit to the side.

“Huh?”

“No bra, but panties?” he smirks, making you realize the joke.

You roll your eyes and relax momentarily, leaning your head back. “Are you into that? No panties underneath?”

“Could be hot,” he shrugs, tugging your underwear to your calves and tossing them off to the side.

“Maybe one date I can do th-ah—”

Without warning, he dives in, one his hands now grasping you by your lower back, and you lurch forward to get a good view of his head between your legs. You've got a grip on his shoulder, the other tugging at his hair.

His tongue laps at your folds with agility, figures out what you like or don't like. There isn't much you don't like, Mark deduces. Languid licks. Penetrating patterns. Fast flicks.

You respond eagerly to them all with harsh tugs to his hair, notably when he spreads your folds to devour you entirely. The hair pulling hurts a bit, but he doesn't mention anything; he likes it a little rough.

Despite the positive reactions, he can tell you've been at a simmer with his moves, not quite reaching close to a high. He withdraws his mouth, and, through your hazy vision, you catch sight of his honeyed lips.

But your eyes blow wide open and an acute moan dispels as your lover of the night fills you with his fingers, alongside his licking of your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

Following a few more minutes of scissoring and a few sucks to your bundle of nerves, he asks, breathing into your inner thigh, “Does this feel good, gorgeous?”

Your lip is drawn between your teeth, digging so hard from the pleasure you wonder if it'll bleed soon. “Mm-hmm.”

“Good,” he says, kissing your thigh tenderly, “'cause I'm gonna need you to remember how good tonight is so you'll keep coming back for more.”

Not gonna be a problem, you think, but all you could muster is senseless panting.

“You close?”

You can barely release a whimper out to respond, and Mark orders you to tell him when you're near.

It doesn't take long to get there. The warmth in your abdomen encapsulates your body and your hips rut upward frantically, desiring your climax to take authority.

“Mark, Mark, Mark. Fuck, I'm close, I'm—”

Immediately, he stands up, fingers still inside you and somehow impaling you further and faster while his thumb lazily strokes at your clit when possible, and his ardent kiss is the needed catalyst to take you over the brink. Simultaneously, the kiss swallows your bountiful whines.

When you finally come down from your high, you kiss him deeply and feel him through his jeans against you.

“Let's take this to the bedroom, I need to grab—”

“Should I run to the pharmacy to—?”

In tandem, you chuckle over how in sync you are, and tip your perspired foreheads against the other.

Holding his hand, you lead him to your bedroom. You turn on your bedside lamp and gesture to the tissues, so he can clean his hands. You then bound to your bedroom bathroom and fumble around to find your condom packs somewhere in a drawer.

Upon your return, you're graced with the sight of Mark sitting naked on the edge of your bed, stroking himself. You almost salivate.

God, he's bigger than you expected, and that's only one part of his magnificent body. You didn't have the opportunity before to admire his muscular abs, but you take every chance to do so now. The way his arm flexes with each stroke. And those thighs...

“Sorry,” he murmurs and shyly shrinks a bit, in contrast to his lewd action, “hope it's okay that I took my pants off already.”

He really is quite endearing. Maybe even a little perfect.

“There is absolutely nothing to apologize for, Mark.”

You place the condoms onto your bedside table, but are so absorbed with Mark's cock and existence. Entranced, it's your turn to drop to your knees.

Fingers wrap around his cock, and Mark's groans rise. You delve in your enthrallment for a bit, squeezing and stroking to your heart's content until you finally decide to ease him into your mouth.

Your tongue works wonders, tasting the underside of his length with every bob of your head. Meanwhile, his hands lazily thread through your hair and he watches attentively.

More saliva develops and drips, especially when you relax your mouth to let him hit the back of your throat. Obscene slurps accompany his delicate moans, both of which permeate the room in melodious unity.

As his threading develops into tight pulls of your hair, you detract yourself to avoid the night ending right then and there.

Since he's still sitting on the side of the bed, you sit onto his lap with a plan to abate and elongate the tension. You're back to kissing him, allowing both parties' hands to roam each other.

“I love your arms,” you mumble into his mouth as you reach for them.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “I know you love my sexy arms.” You punch him teasingly.

But an idea flickers in your head. You halt your actions.

“This might be weird to ask, but could I...” you trail off, picking at your hands, realizing maybe you shouldn't finish your question.

“Hey,” he whispers, holding your chin in his hand. “You can ask me anything, beautiful.”

You hesitate with closed eyes.

“Could I... ride your arm?”

Peeking a nervous eye open, an evidently puzzled Mark stares back at you.

“I—What? Sure?” His voice raises in octaves.

Embarrassed, you try to wave it off. “Never mind that I asked.”

“No, hey,” he says, his palm caressing the side of your face and angling it towards him. “I'm flattered and obviously, nobody has ever asked to ride my arm before. But if you want to give it a go, by all means, I'm open to it.”

“Yeah?”

Mark gives you the sweetest smile and a reassuring nod. “Yeah.”

Since you suggested it, you lead him to lay on the bed, more in the centre so there'd be enough room for you to sit. He watches you gingerly lift his hand near head-level, as if he's almost flexing to show-off or about to lay his head on his palm.

Carefully, you sit onto his left arm, facing the direction of his body. At the contact, you shudder. “Is this okay?”

He agrees, enticed by your ass near his face and the general exquisiteness of your being. “You can put more weight on it, it's okay.”

You comply, relishing in the pressure of his arm against you. After becoming more comfortable and placing most of your weight to an arm on the bed, you slowly rub yourself upon his arm.

Mark's fascinated by this foreign act, eyes watching your every move. With his free hand, he touches himself.

His favourite part about you riding his arm? The look on your face—fluttering eyes paired with your lip biting—and the fact that you find him this attractive, that using him this way can simply get you off.

“This okay still?” you breathe.

“Fuck yeah.” He squeezes himself harder. He knows the answer to the next question, but he wants to hear it from you directly. “Does it feel good for you?”

You assent with a sharp moan. Without notice, you lick your palm with the intent of reaching over to grab his cock. At first, he's confused when he notices your hand, but he happily lets you handle him.

“Oh, God,” Mark pants.

You fasten your pace on his arm, grinding greedily against him. As you do so, your arm attempts to match the pace for his desire.

“Fuck,” Mark twists his head to look at your hips, tries to focus on how wet you are amidst his own pleasure, “you really do love my arms...”

It's a sweet dream for you—no, sweeter than any dream or fantasy could ever be. This is real, this spectacular sensation spreading all over and it's all thanks to his arm. Your body winds up, tighter and tighter, and you eventually break, chasing your second orgasm of the night.

Cleaning your mess up, you wipe his arm fast, keen on what's about to happen next. You then draw him into your mouth a bit to get him up again before rolling the condom onto him.

Once the rubber is on, you tease him from above, sliding the tip of his cock against your pulsing centre.

Mark may be a gentleman, but a gentleman can only be patient for so long. He seizes his possession and you gasp as he holds you by your hip, forcing you to sit down onto him.

The feeling is heavenly, stretching you sweetly. You bounce on his cock, and the sounds from you two are louder than from before. There's a small voice inside your head, worried about a noise complaint from your neighbours, but future you could deal with that.

Right now, it's all about Mark. He plays with your breasts with every move you make, while you fondle his abs and arms. Both of you try your best to look at one another through the pleasure, but it's difficult when you're floating higher and higher.

He then clasps your lower back and skillfully rises upward with the help of his strong abs. This position provides an angle for him to do all the work to thrust into you, as well as continuing to rub your breasts and even suck on them again.

At this point, you're in absolute state of frenzy, drowning in all the stimulation. Mark's underwater, right there with you too.

He pulls away in the midst of licking your nipple, his eyes going round. Nevertheless, you lean into him, your breasts pressed into his face and your mouth hangs.

Together, you cry each other's names and swear in endless spirals and the bliss finally reaches its peak for the evening.

As Mark lays next to you in your bed, observing your peaceful sleeping state, he's obviously amazed by tonight's events, but he’s also unsure what’s in-store for either of you.

There are so many factors at play with his career, you're both essentially still strangers, the future is unknown...

And yet, despite these worries, the feeling blooming in his chest is more than a blossoming liking. It’s akin to the moment he steps up to plate, either ready to bat or pitch. Nervousness, determination, and...

It’s too early to call it, but when he’s around you, he swears it feels a lot like his love for the game.

He shakes his head, not wanting to jump into the deep end this fast. He doesn't want to ruin this good thing prematurely.

Nevertheless, he places one last kiss atop your forehead before he sleeps, praying you'll be a new constant in his life, at least in the near future.

EPILOGUE — FOUR MONTHS LATER

Today is game four of the World Series and your city has won the previous three. If they continue their streak, tonight will be the night where Mark and his teammates take home the championship.

Hours prior to the big game, the teams are having batting practice beforehand to warm-up.

With your chin perched in your palm, you watch Mark closely—of course, safely from a distance and from behind him—and nod with every ball he hits well at the mound. You're seated in the lower area of the stadium among many of the other team members' families and friends, including a gleeful Chenle.

“Stop checking out your boyfriend's ass,” he orders, nudging you with his shoulder as he tosses a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

“You stop checking out my boyfriend's ass,” you retort, nudging him back.

The two of you continue your little nudging contest until he says, “So when you guys get married—”

“Oh, my God, Chenle...”

“I'm just saying, we all know you two are going to have beautiful little baseball player babies! Anyway, as I was saying, when you guys get married, can Daegal be the ringbearer somehow? She's pretty much the reason why you guys got together in the first place.”

You shake your head, eyes still on your love. “Chenle, we'll have that conversation when and if we get there.”

“When we'll get there,” he states confidently, and you laugh, dismissing him.

Sure, it may have been a fresh relationship only four months in, but you couldn't deny that maybe the idea of marriage wiggled its way through your mind here and there. Despite your thoughts, it wasn't at the forefront; you were happy in love with Mark now, here in the present.

Player #02 hands his bat over to another player and jogs towards you. It makes you wonder why he hasn't done an advertisement with slo-mo running and wind blowing through his hair yet.

“How’d I do?” Mark asks, leaning onto the railing next to you. Chenle gives him two thumbs up with a large grin.

“Awesome," you agree. "Did you think about hitting my head with each ball?”

Mark chuckles and juts his tongue to a side of his mouth. “You’re never going to let me live that down, huh?”

“Never,” you quip, scrunching your nose. You reach out for him and hold the tips of his fingers in yours. “You nervous?”

“Yeah,” he exhales, closing his eyes. “More than usual.”

Your fingers progress forward and your thumbs rub the back of his hands lovingly. “You’ll do amazing, like always.”

“You’re too sweet, babe. But this might be the game and I might—”

You cut him off by cupping his cheek in your palms.

“And you are the Mark ‘The Tiger’ Lee”—you tenderly swipe some of his hair away from his face—“top contender for both the Rookie of the Year and CY Young Award. So no matter what happens, you will come out on top.”

In awe and in a little disbelief with how well-put that was, he stares at you with starry, doe-like eyes. He's so grateful to have met you, to have someone so supportive of him in his life.

After a few moments, he concedes. “I had a pretty great run this season, haven’t I?”

You admire how humble your boyfriend always is. It's one of his greatest traits.

“And you have me,” you add jokingly.

He tilts his head side to side. “I guess there’s that too...”

The two of you share a kiss, innocent at first, until he deepens it and you wrap your arms around his neck, which generates some of his teammates to holler and whistle. Likewise, you hear Chenle screech, "Save it for after the win!" and you swear you feel some popcorn being thrown at your back.

Finally, until you're content, you peel away and press your forehead against his.

“Go get ‘em, Tiger,” you whisper.

Mark nods, a little more confident than before. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“So much,” he punctuates it with a loving squeeze to your shoulder.

You don't think you'll see him before the game starts, so you grant him one last good luck kiss.

You wouldn't know it that night, but by the end of the season, Mark would indeed take home the Rookie of the Year and the CY Young Award, being the youngest recipient of both awards.

That evening though, your city's team works in unbelievable harmony (or maybe the opposing team is having its worst day) because the game is a perfect one. Mark shuts out the other team, not allowing them to have any runs whatsoever...

Thus, sealing his first title of being a World Series champion.

But certainly not without his beloved running out into the field to give him a congratulatory hug and kiss among the sea of people.

And at the end of that night in the confines of your bedroom (after earth-shattering celebratory sex), you would find out that Chenle was right (and later, that he was in on it) when Mark, merely in his boxers, gets on one knee with a little opened box in front of you.

He's visibly shaking, and not because he's half-naked. You've never seen him so unnerved. Your love spills the following in almost one breath:

“I know we just started dating, and we can be engaged for, like, ten years or whatever. I just know that, deep down, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I may have felt this way since our first date. I really, really, really hope you feel the same, even if just a little bit."

Mark takes a deep breath, trying to regain composure for the important question he exhales.

Tears rise in your eyes as an ocean of feelings hit you, but within that ocean, no doubts rise to the surface whatsoever.

All you think about is how you will be forever grateful for the baseball that hit your head on that life-changing day.

You immediately say yes.

[spiderb00]

- TELEPATHIC CONNECTION

Daniela Avanzini x Reader

“You and Daniela's connection was weak. You need to increase it with kisses!”

Genre - Fluff warning - none

(request)

Now Playing - Love Bug, by Okayceci

"we could stick up in my lovebug baby, and if you wanna we could get crazy"

The windows of the apartment were open, the view of the city was beautiful at dusk. The sound of the television was low, not allowing the sound of the sirens from the game you were playing to disturb your girlfriend. Daniela was lying on the sofa, her legs stretched over your thighs, keeping the two of you connected even when you were doing totally different activities.  

You knew the girls' comeback was coming up, and a few days off were rare, especially when your girlfriend had to practice and shoot almost every day. Practices were making the Latina tired, and nothing seemed better to her than simply relaxing a little by your side to ease her mind.  

Your little grumble had taken all of Daniela's concentration away. The woman now gazed at your side profile with admiration. She loved seeing you at times like this. Jaw clenched, eyes on the screen and eyebrows furrowed. You looked so beautiful concentrated like that, Daniela loves that.  

Taking her legs off your thigh to sit on the sofa, the blonde approached you, glancing at the game before looking at you again.  

“You're very good at this game.” The Latina said, slipping her arms around your shoulders and kissing your cheek.  

“Do you want to try?” You asked, knowing that Daniela loved playing GTA V. She was always driving around in a car, hitting pedestrians or buying clothes. Actually, so do you.  

“Actually, I wanted a bit of you...” Her lips tickled your ear, and the hairs on your body stood on end. “But you're too busy playing this stupid game.”  

“Well, if you wanted my attention that badly, you could have told me.” You said, joining in her game.  

You knew that your girlfriend was spoiled by nature, and she always wanted you to do her bidding, no matter what time it was, you'd be there to serve her. It would be a lie to say that you didn't love doing everything Daniela told you to, but every now and then, you had the luxury of playing with her a little.  

“You should feel when I want something.” The corners of your lips lifted in a smile, just like Daniela's.  

“You're right, I think our telepathic connection is weak.” You said, dropping the PS5 controller next to you on the sofa, and placing your hands on the Latina's waist. “I think we need to fix that.”  

“Wow, you're such a nerd!” Daniela rolled her eyes. Her hands were playing with the hair on the back of your neck, letting you know that somehow she loved everything you were saying.  

“I'm fucking serious!” Your body turned more towards Daniela, causing your knee to touch hers. “When a couple's telepathic connections are weak, they urgently need to kiss until they lose their breath!”  

Daniela's hands left the back of your neck, only for her to push your chest in a playful way. “Shut up, you nerd.”  

“But I'm serious!” You said, the smile on your face making Daniela melt.  

Rolling her eyes, the Latina used the same hand that had pushed you to pull your collar towards her, and within seconds the two of your lips were attached. Your hands went to Daniela's waist again, before falling to the brunette's hips. Gently squeezing the spot, you helped Daniela mount you, placing each of her knees on the side of each of your legs.  

The brunette's lips were soft and sweet, and you would never tire of kissing them. Daniela's hands ruffled your hair in the midst of the passionate kiss, and having the brunette on top of you made your head spin.  

“Do you know what I want now?” Daniela asked, looking into your eyes with that look she knew made you weak.  

Frowning, you licked your lips, still searching for another taste of your girlfriend's gloss. “Take that to the bedroom?”  

And there it was, that smile you love so much.  

“You're right, it really does improve the connection.” 

Hello everyone, how are you? do you like the new design? ;)

ARE YOU EXCITED FOR THE COMEBACK? They look so beautiful, I can't-

As some of you know, Megan is my bias, and she looks stunning in this new era (they all do). I'm really looking forward to writing for her, I also have ideas for Lara, and famout!

actually, I have ideas for all the girls, so let's see where this goes.

drink water and be safe,

xoxo, spider.

[lcvelycait]

these are some of my little thoughts if the obey me older bros were yanderes :3

Lucifer... he'd be calculated as he is beautiful. You'll never know what he'll do, he wouldn't let his plans slip up from his own mouth anyway. A sadistic man, as we all know. He can play the waiting game, tease you enough 'til you're wanting more. Until he's the only one you want. His touch lingering for too long, reading you perfectly. You're going to be his, you have no other choice.. He's already decided that a long time ago. He whispers praise in your ears, and when you're in the slightest bit of danger, he'll tell you you're a fragile human, in need of protection. And who other than Lucifer, strongest of his brothers, would be able to fulfill such a role?

Mammon... he's occupying most of your time. He is the avatar of greed after all. His arms one your waist, face buried in the crook of your neck as he begs you not to go out with your friends with a whine that he knows will get you to comply. He may seem like he's just sick in love with you, like you've got him wrapped around your finger, but it's deeper than that. That's what he wants you to think. You already fell into his trap. For now, he'll keep playing into the fantasy in your head that he's under your control.

Leviathan... he'd guilt trip you, saying he doesn't have any other friends to play with, or how you should be thankful he even tolerates the presence of a normie like you.. He's stalking your socials, when he sees you post pictures with you, Mammon, and Asmo at the club, he's spamming your phone with possessive messages. You're supposed to be his. Now you're leaving the club with a sulky expression, and once you're at the house of lamentation, he's already at the door. Greeting you and scolding you about going to places without his knowledge for a bit then tell you about how he set up his room for the two of you for a movie and gaming session. He put in so much effort... don't you have any empathy?

sorry if they're ooc, I tried my best trying to make sure it fits their sin 😭 sorry for being inactivee, I'll post a draft soon!