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youvebeenlivingfictional · 5 months

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the pro

part ii: what we're willing to accept

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.

Notes: My brain chose violence this morning. Not beta-read because when is it ever.

Length: 4.8K

Warnings: Slow burn; unhappily married reader; divorced Art Donaldson; infidelity; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; unsafe sex

Summary: Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.

He's the biggest men's tennis star since Andy Roddick.

That’s what your husband says, as if it’ll entice you. As if you know anything about tennis, about the pro that your husband says will be coming to the house to teach you to play.

It’ll be good for you. You need a hobby.

You don’t gripe or argue. You don’t tell him that five months into your marriage shouldn’t have you looking for a new hobby. You should still be in the honeymoon stage, spending all of your time with him, hanging off of his arm, off of his every word. But he works so much and he’s away so often—

I don’t want you to get bored.

It’s a sweet gesture. The maid handles the housework; you have a chef that handles most of the grocery shopping and cooking, unless you insist on making something yourself; you have a housekeeper that arranges for anything you need—dry cleaning, maintenance. And it’s no wonder that with all of his money, his power, he can just order a retired pro tennis player up to your house, like you’d order a pizza. There’s a tennis court in the back of the mansion, a few feet from the pool. You’ll get some new outfits, the best sneakers, the nicest rackets. You’ll finally have something to do to fill your days.

Art Donaldson.

You know his name before the lean, fair-skinned patrician man turns up at your front door. He trails you through the house, politely declines your offer of a beverage.

“You ever played tennis before?” He asks.

You haven’t. Before your husband arranged this for you, you hadn’t so much as given the sport more than a passing thought. You don’t have the heart or confidence to tell that to a man that’s made tennis his whole life, so you just give him a small, guilty smile and say no, you haven’t. He nods, waves you off, insists that it’s fine.

“We’ll start with the basics.”

Two months of lessons on the basics make your arms tired, and your hands sore. But where your swings are clumsy and your grip is weak at first, you can see improvement in the way that you move. Your steps are less clumsy when you go after a ball; you’re more aware of the service line and the base line; your forehand stroke from contact to your left shoulder is smoother; your rotation and follow-through on your backhand is coming along, but has a long way to go.

Art’s instruction is calm and steady. He explains technique as much as he demonstrates it. When you get something wrong, he doesn’t scold, just lightly corrects. When you do something well, his encouragement is constant and free-flowing. Every accurate move and motion is met with, “Nice,” or, “Perfect,” or, “That’s it.”

On the days when you don’t have a lesson with Art, you practice. You order a tennis ball machine to work on your forehand and backhand. You attempt (and fail) to learn how to slice on your own. You try anyway—you can only imagine the way his eyes might light up if you manage to surprise him.

You’ve tried to ignore the rising interest that you have in Art, but you can’t help the little…Crush that’s developed. He’s just so attentive, and kind. When you find yourself smiling these days, it’s often because of something that he said, or did. You can’t remember the last time your husband made you feel giddy this way. It was probably when you started dating—before you’d made the decision to marry for comfort, rather than love. Your husband is practical, rarely physically affectionate, more heavily involved in his job and social circles than with you.

But you’ll have to find a way to thank him. He’s given you a hobby, and a man that grins at you like you just painted the goddamn Mona Lisa when you serve your first ace.

“So, tell me about the Mark Rebellato Academy.”

Art smiles, dipping his head as he reaches for his coffee. It’s taken a few months, but you finally convince him to have something to drink with you after practice. Your chef is blessedly out shopping for ingredients for dinner, so you have the kitchen all to yourself. Art has watched you putter around, seeming surprised that you know where everything is. You can’t blame him; the kitchen is chef-grade, and you don’t cook much these days.

“Did your husband tell you that’s where I went?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

You’re too embarrassed to admit that you’ve done some googling, and watched a couple of clips of him interviewing before and after his matches.

“I’ve just heard,” You fib. “Tell me about it?”

He leans back in his seat, eyes skating across your face as he seems to consider something.

“What do you wanna know?”

“Did you enjoy it? I mean—” It feels like a dumb question once it’s out, and you hurry to redirect, “With what you know now, if you had the choice, would you have learned how to play tennis somewhere else?”

He considers for a moment, trailing his finger over the side of his cup. Your gaze flits to his fingers, and your own flex around your mug handle. You’ve spent far too much time looking at and thinking about Art’s fingers—their length and quickness; the slight roughness of his calloused hands; the lingering tan line from where his wedding band used to sit.

“Yeah,” He admits, drawing your full attention back to his face. “I would. It was foundational, you know. I’ve been thinking of sending Lily there.”

“Lily?”

A bittersweet smile twists his lips. “My daughter.”

“Oh!” It catches you off-guard.

“Tashi, uh—” He clears his throat, “Lily’s mother, my ex-wife. She and I are thinking about schools.”

“I’m sure they’d be glad to have her. Does she play tennis?”

“Little bit. She didn’t start until last year, but she's a natural.” He clears his throat again, presses, “Are you and your husband planning on having kids?”

“Oh god no.” You blurt it out, and realize as he raises his brows that you’ve spoken too quickly. You lean back in your seat, stirring your coffee quickly to distract yourself from your growing embarrassment. “He actually has kids already. Two girls, seven and ten. They’re at boarding school and they stay with their mother when they're on vacation. I haven’t gotten to spend much time with them.”

“...He seems to be pretty busy.”

“He is.”

“So it’s just you in this big house?” He tips his head to the side, brows knitting with curiosity. “What do you do all day?”

“Play tennis.”

He grins, chuckling, and your stomach flips at the sound.

“It shows, you know,” He says.

“What do you mean?”

“I can tell you’re practicing without me. And,” He leans across the table, running his fingers lightly over the exposed skin of your bicep, “You’re getting stronger.”

You wonder if he can see or feel the goosebumps that break out across your skin at the gentle sweep, his gaze heavy on yours.

“I have a good teacher,” You murmur. Art’s lips twitch with a soft smile, his hand gently cupping your arm.

“Just good?” He plies.

“The best. A real pro.”

His smile widens, and the flash of his tongue sweeping across his lower lip makes your face go hot. You know that you’re caught when Art’s touch becomes firmer, pulling your arm toward him just a little.

The sound of approaching footsteps startles you, and you hurriedly tug your arm away. The sight of your husband makes your heart leap into your throat.

“There you are,” He smiles. “Art, how’s she doin’?”

“She’s killing it.”

You don’t dare look at him, but you can feel the weight of his attention lingering on you still. You just give your husband a smile, tipping your cheek up obligingly as he leans down to kiss it.

“Actually, Art,” Your husband straightens up, hands resting on your shoulders. “I’m glad I caught you. There’s a charity event for a local club this month. It’s for uh…What is it?” He squeezes your shoulders for answers, and you have to keep from rolling your eyes.

“It’s a charity tennis match to raise funds to fix up the local courts. They need resurfacing and they’re raising funding to keep the fees down.”

“We could use a sponsorship from the foundation,” Your husband adds.

“Honey,” You glance back, wary of insulting Art. But—

“I’ll do it,” Art agrees. “Send me the details.”

“Excellent,” Your husband grins. “Maybe we could coax you into a match or two.”

You don’t chastise him this time—not when you see something light up in Art.

“Maybe.”

You haven’t seen Art play before. You’ve specifically avoided it. You’ve known that when you saw it, you would be too intimidated to do a damn thing on the court with him. But now, you can’t stop watching him. You don’t even care that you probably look so out of place—where everyone else is watching the ball, you’re just watching him.

His movements are so neat, so precise. It’s like watching a dance. He’s running the poor guy on the other side of the net up and down the court. And the sounds that he’s making—god. Every little grunt and groan is weaving increasingly filthy thoughts in your mind. You already know that you’ll seek out the memory of those sounds, as you reach between your legs later. His shirt clings to his chest, showcasing the muscles that you’ve always suspected he has. Strands of hair plaster to his forehead as sweat drips over his cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, over his jaw.

When he scores a match point and he looks toward the cheering crowd—when his eyes land on you instantly, without having to search—it’s like you’ve been hit by a bolt of lightning. You can’t think, or move. You barely have the focus to applaud, but you manage to raise your hands and clap.

Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.

Coffee becomes a post-lesson ritual. He starts to stick closer and closer to you as he follows you into the house until he begins to rest his hand on your lower back, guiding you to your door. He keeps nearby when you’re making it, brushes droplets of sweat off of your forehead or neck. Every touch is electrifying; you have to make a concentrated effort to keep your hands steady, your face neutral as your heart pounds and your stomach floods with butterflies.

He pushes you harder on the court, and you force yourself to meet the level that he sets for you, even when you don’t feel confident in it. But you want to make him proud.

It spurs you to lunge a little too far.

The sharp stabbing pain in your left ankle makes you shriek, and you tumble to the ground, dropping the racket with a clatter. You hear the pounding of his feet, glance up just in time to see him clear the net before he’s on the ground at your side.

“What hurts?”

“My ankle,” You grit out, hissing softly as he helps you straighten your leg out. He smooths his hands over your calf, leaning over you and gently guiding your foot in a few different directions. You whimper as he starts to guide your foot to the left.

“Okay, okay,” He soothes, “Let’s get you inside.”

For as much as you damn the throbbing in your ankle, you thank it a little, too. You lean heavily against Art, making the slow, arduous journey back to the house with his arm wrapped tightly around your middle.

When your husband comes home, he finds you with on the couch with Art coming back in from the kitchen, an ice pack in your hand.

You’d hope for concern, but your husband frowns, glances at the swelling knob of your ankle, and simply asks: “What did you do?”

“She lost her balance.” Art sits down on the other end of the couch, soothing you as the chill of the ice pack makes you shift with discomfort.

“Are you going to be able to walk tomorrow?” Your husband presses. “We have dinner at the Fineman’s.”

“I'm still going, don't worry about that."

“...Tomorrow might be a bit soon,” Art warns.

“I’ll be okay. It’s just a sprain, right?” You tip your brows up, hoping, praying that he’ll agree for your sake. His fingers flex around the ice pack, jaw ticking as he clenches it. He doesn’t say a word as your husband sighs heavily, grumbles, “I hope so. Still, we should put a pause on the lessons until she’s fighting fit again.”

Art finally tears his eyes from yours, a tight smile on his lips.

“Of course.”

“How’s the ankle?”

It takes you a moment to scrounge up an answer. You can’t believe that he called. You knew that Art had gotten your number when you started taking lessons with him, but he’s never used it beyond texting to confirm a lesson time now and again.

You look down at the still-swollen flesh as it strains against the thin strap of your slingbacks.

“Fine,” You lie, “It’s um—” You glance over your shoulder, listening for your husband. “It’s not that bad.”

“Good enough to walk on?”

Hardly.

“Yes.” You think you’ve gotten away with it, but when you hear Art sigh and chastise, “You should rest,” You know that you haven’t.

“I have,” You insist, “All day.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes.”

“You can tell him no, you know.”

Your mouth works wordlessly, body going hot with indignation. You can’t think of a thing to say. You can’t tell him that he’s wrong, that your husband’s connections are the lifeblood of his business. You can’t tell him that if your husband’s business falls apart, you won't be able to afford those tennis lessons, and then how the hell are you supposed to see Art again?

You just yank your phone away from your ear and hang up.

I invited Art.

It shouldn’t be a surprise, but your husband’s statement makes you feel like you’ve swallowed your tongue. You haven’t seen or spoken to Art in nearly two weeks. Your doctor recommended putting off any physical activity, which your husband surely relayed to him. He was the one whose name was on Art’s checks, after all.

Your husband has always thrown a massive party to kick off the summer. Every year, 150 of your husband’s closest family, friends, and business associates flooded into the house. It shouldn’t be such a surprise that your husband invited Art after the performance he had given at the fundraiser—$25,000 from the foundation, and ticket sales went through the roof when it had been announced that the Art Donaldson would be making an appearance. Your husband owed Art a lot, and probably saw this as an opportunity for him to network, to take on more clients. He had been evangelizing Art’s training to any of your friends that would listen—how good you are on the court, how engaged and energetic you seem to be these days.

It’s one thing to know that you’ll have to put on a happy face for the crowd, but to know that Art will be among them makes your insides twist with nerves. You can’t stop thinking about the way that he had spoken to you when you were hurt; his calm, steadying demeanor as he’d gotten you inside; the careful coaxing and gentle touch that he’d used as he’d taken your shoe off and examined your ankle more closely.

You think about it now, as you strap on another pair of heels. Your ankle really is doing well, though you have a little lingering pain in shoes like these. You’ll likely be on your feet for the length of the party; it’s going to be a long night. You look over yourself in the mirror, self consciously tipping your ankle from side to side for anything that he may spot or catch out. But there’s nothing, you reassure yourself. You slide your hands over the skirt, plastering on a smile as your husband pokes his head into your dressing room.

“Almost ready in here?” He asks.

“All set!”

He doesn’t come over to you. On the crowded patio, you can feel him watching you—you’ve gotten so used to seeking out the sensation that you can’t ignore it now. The first true look at him is agony. He watches you from just a few feet away, a glass of champagne in hand as he speaks with your husband and the Finemans. He openly looks you over, eyes drifting over your body to the flash of ankle revealed by the slit in your dress. He tips his head to the side just a little, squinting before his eyes flit back up to your face, lips twitching with a small smile.

You want to hate how good it feels; you want to be angry with him for his smug knowing, his insistence of You can tell him no, you know. But it feels so goddamn good to have his attention again that you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed. You know that you’re staring—that you both are—and you force yourself to turn away and excuse yourself from the conversation you’re in. You go inside, murmuring your thanks for the waitstaff that pass you along the way.

The house isn’t nearly as busy as the patio, and you're able to slip into your darkened study unnoticed. You leave the lights off, certain that if you turn them on, people will be drawn in to bug you, like moths to a flame. The party’s lights and music filter in through the partially-closed blinds.

You lean against the desk, circling your ankle and wincing a little. You’ll hide for a few minutes, let it rest—

Your breath catches in your throat as the door opens. You expect your husband, ready to scold and usher you back to the guests.

You only have a second to get a look at Art before he shuts the door behind himself, plunging the room back into darkness. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the desk as you use it to ground yourself.

“...Do you need something?” You ask, voice wobbling with nerves.

“Wanted to come say hi.”

“Well. Hi.”

You hear him chuckle, his footsteps muted by the carpet.

“Thanks for the invite.”

“It wasn’t my idea.” It’s not polite to admit, but you want it to sting him, just a little. Maybe it does; in the dim of the room, you can’t see Art’s expression as he comes to a stop just a couple of feet from you.

“Do you want me to go?” He asks. You know what you should say, but you can’t bring yourself to say it.

“No,” You whisper. You feel the heat of him as he comes closer, his hands resting on the desk and caging you in. You bite your lip as gently brushes his nose against yours.

“He isn’t taking care of you.”

“My ankle is fine.”

“I’m not talking about your ankle.” He lifts a hand, smoothing it over your hip as your breath mingles. Art’s fingers drift from your hip to stroke over the apex of your dress’s slit. His fingers slip further down, and you nod as he palms your thigh. Before you can say or do a thing, Art sinks to his knees. He curls his hand around your left calf, lifting it. You shiver as his lips press a gentle kiss to your ankle. His hand and lips travel up, easing the fabric of your dress higher with each second. The first brush of his knuckles against your panty-covered clit makes you jolt. Your hands dig into the wood of the desk as his fingers hook between the fabric and your skin. You lift your hips without a word, allowing him to draw them down.

Art presses a kiss to your mound before he lowers his head, giving your lips a sweet, sucking kiss. You gasp softly as his tongue swipes across your clit. You look down despite the fact that you can’t see him well. You can just make out his blissful expression, his eyes closed as his laps broadly across your aching cunt. You lower your hand to his neat hair, winding your fingers through it, unable to help grasping it. His heady moan vibrates against you and you nearly cry out at the sensation. You manage to just catch it, the sound dying in your throat as Art buries his tongue inside you. He sweeps his thumb over your clit in rush, harried circles, panting against your heated flesh. You rock your hips down against his lips, tightening your grip on his hair as you guide him. He lets you do as you please, whining against your skin as your movements become less controlled.

“Art,” You warn, “I—Oh, oh god—”

He hums in encouragement, sucking your clit back between his lips and lashing it with his tongue. Your jaw drops open, your hand shoving Art even more tightly against your skin as you cum suddenly. A stunned, breathy moan slips from your lips as Art leans back, smearing his lips against the inside of your thigh.

You use your grasp on Art’s hair to draw him back up off of his knees, giving him a crushing kiss as he catches his balance. You swipe your tongue across his lips, whining against his lips as you taste yourself on him. He presses close, his hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants. You reach down, palming and squeezing his length as you trade slick, messy kisses. He steers you back onto the desk as you fumble to undo his belt, button, and zip.

“Condom?” He asks.

“Pill,” You reassure, shoving his pants down. You lap broadly across your palm, grasping Art’s length and guiding him closer. He brushes the tip of his cock against your still-throbbing clit, smiling as you whine. You’re going to ache tomorrow, but you’ve never been so happy to be sore.

“Art.”

“Sssh.”

“Please—” It’s hardly out of your mouth before he shoves his hips forward, seating himself fully with a single thrust. You bite down on your lip to quiet your moan, curling your arms around your shoulders. He rocks into you with firm, quick strokes, his mouth covering yours. You can hear things on the desk rattling with each thrust, kisses growing less controlled as he hoists your thigh up around his hip.

“Oh, god,” You breathe, “We have to be quick—He’ll come looking—”

“Not until you cum for me again,” He urges. “I need to feel it, sweetheart.”

“Art—”

“When’s the last time he did this? Hmm?” He presses, “When’s the last time he made you cum? When’s the last time he tasted you?”

“Never,” You admit with a shiver. It seems to renew Art’s passion, his thrusts and hold growing more intense. You squeeze your eyes shut, hands hooking tightly in the fabric of his jacket. He yanks the front of your dress down, bowing over you and drawing one of your nipples between his lips. You whimper as he toys with the bud, tugging it gently with his teeth before swiping across it. You arch into the slick heat, using your leg to tug him even closer as you chased the swelling curl of your orgasm.

“Just like that,” You urge, “Ffffuck—yes, yesyesyesyes—”

Your eyes squeeze shut as your hips buck down against his, pussy pulsing as he spills into you. Your heart pounds in your chest as the two of you slow and still. Art rests his forehead heavily against your neck, peppering gentle kisses across the exposed skin. You have to move—now. You don’t know if anyone heard you, but if someone did, you’re screwed. If no one did, your husband will probably be looking for you anyway, ready with a scold for neglecting your hostess duties.

“...I have to go,” You warn softly. It takes Art a moment to move, but he does, gently drawing himself back from your still-throbbing cunt. You hear the clanking of his belt buckle as he tucks himself away, and you reach down, righting your dress where it’s been pulled away. You take up your panties from where they’d been discarded on the floor, tugging them on before you straighten your skirt and hurry out of the room.

“Can I see you?”

It’s only been an hour since the last guest has left, and you are so, so fucking tired. You glance toward the bathroom door. You know that you locked it, and you’re certain that your husband can’t hear you over the shower running, but you can’t help but be paranoid.

“You just saw me,” You remind him.

“Tomorrow,” Art clarifies.

“Where?”

“I’ll send an address.”

You bite your lip, toying with your earring. Your pussy is still aching from the stretch of him, your ass sore from getting fucked on the desk.

“...You regret it?” He asks.

“No,” You don't give your answer a second thought.

“I’ll send an address. Whether or not you see me is up to you. Just…think about it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

You lower your phone, hanging it up and watching his contact information blink away. It’s only a moment before a text with an address lights up your phone. You don’t have to think about it. You already know what you’re going to do.

You know that you’re staring, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. Art has spent so much time in your home, so you feel entitled to look around a little bit. You eye the row of trophies on his mantle, photos of him playing when he was young. You come to a stop at a picture of him with a young girl, a racket in her hand and a medal around her neck.

“Is this Lily?” You ask.

“Yeah,” He nods. “First competition.”

“Already getting gold,” You smile. “The Mark Rebellato Academy isn’t ready for her.”

Art chuckles, nodding as he steps around you.

“You, uh…You want something to eat, or drink, or…?” He trails off, tucking his hands into his pockets as he takes a couple of steps back toward his kitchen. You turn to face him, taking him in more fully.

“Art?”

“Yeah?”

“Why am I here?”

He doesn’t answer for a few moments. You can see him weighing his options before he comes closer.

“I…I’ve been thinking about last night.”

Fear shoots through you, but you force yourself to stand tall. “Okay.”

“I could lie and tell you that it should be a one-time thing, but I can’t remember the last time I got through a day without thinking about you. And I think you’ve been thinking about me, too.” Art stops as the tip of his shoes brush against yours, and you let your eyes slip closed as he rests his forehead against yours.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” He pleads. “Tell me to fuck off right now and I will never say another non-tennis related thing to you again.”

When he fucks you, he curls close, chest pressing against yours as he catches your lips in a kiss. You sink back against his pillows, your head cradled by his broad palm as he rolls his hips achingly slowly. You don’t bother to hide your whines and moans, and you revel in his. Every grunt and whimper and groan that Art lets out lights you up.

And when you cum, you don't have to quiet yourself. His name tumbles out of your mouth, cushioned between expletives as your nails dig into his shoulders.

"What time is he home tonight?"

You don't want to think about it. You want to stay in this cozy little bubble, trailing your fingers over his muscled chest as he massages your nape and kisses your forehead.

But you know that you'll have to let the world back in sometime.

"I don't know," You admit. "Late."

"...Could stay."

"He'll be suspicious if I'm not home when he gets there."

Art sighs softly, running his hand down to rub between your shoulder blades.

"This isn't going to be easy, is it."

"What?"

"Letting you go every day."

"Every day?" You tease, pushing yourself up to get a better look at him. "Don't get greedy, Mr. Donaldson."

He smiles, raising his hand and cupping your cheek. "Is it greedy to know what I want?"

You shake your head a little, lowering your lips to brush against his.

"Not when I want it, too."

part ii: what we're willing to accept

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ;

@buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

#Art Donaldson x Reader #Art Donaldson x You #Art Donaldson/Reader #Art Donaldson/You #Art Donaldson fic #Art Donaldson imagine #the pro

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kkoffin · 1 month

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We have lost in giggle v tickle. A woman who made a female-only app has been ordered by the high court of Australia to pay $10k to a man who was rejected from joining, under the sex discrimination act.

The $10k isn't at all what matters - what matters is that males are now legally entitled to join any female-only space in Australia. Women's single-sex spaces and services have no legal protection, as this precedent deems exclusion of males who decide, even on a whim, that they will call themselves women, is discrimination. Under the sex discrimination act.

Women's sports, bathrooms, prisons, lesbian dating apps, women's facebook groups, book clubs, feminist groups. Men are entitled to see everything going on in these groups and spaces. Women's safety in prisons, bathrooms, changing rooms, and sports is lost. This decision will effect the rest of the western world, and will not stay within Australia.

We've lost a lot of safety, and legally speaking we might have to pretend they are women, but we have not lost the ability to speak. Until speaking is illegal, we need to keep doing it. We cannot safely speak in private groups now. We must let men know what we are saying, and say it out loud. Say to their faces. Let the governments know that women are saying no, and women won't lay down and die, pretending there's no difference between us and a man in a dress in our changing rooms. We are not protected from them, but we can still speak against it. KEEP SPEAKING AGAINST IT. LET THEM KNOW WHAT YOU THINK.

I know there's very few good voting options right now, seemingly all legislators hate women one way or another, we need to be known, as a considerable voting group. We need more gender critical women going into politics. If we make ourselves known, legislators will begin to consider our needs and wants. I know the risk young people face when being open with these opinions - losing friends, employment, family etc, but you need to do as much as you can. Post anonymously, join protests, donate to groups, BE LOUD! Our rights are being reversed.

The sex discrimination act was used to legally entitle men to all female spaces. The sex discrimination act was used to make female-only spaces and services illegal. This is going backwards. Laws made to protect us are the same laws being used to take our safety away.

#radical feminism #radical feminist safe #radical feminist theory #terfblr #radical feminists do touch #radical feminists do interact #radical feminist community #trans exclusionary radical feminist #terfsafe #radblr #radical feminists please interact #radical feminists please touch #gender critical #gender abolition #gendercrit #gender cult

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sathone · 2 years

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High school sports officially ruined my ability to compete in a healthy manner.

#any time there’s competition involved my brain switches into RUTHLESS mode #like a winter soldier-esque sleeper agent #there’s no hehe fun #it’s KILL DESTROY DOMINATE #I blame my volleyball coach tbh #but also just the general attitude of high school sports #it’s like they’re training soldiers to go to war against other schools #literally insane thinking back on it #such an unhealthy environment #maybe I’ll be able to compete in a sane way in the future #but I will forever be mean with my volleyball serves #sorry that one’s not getting trained out of me ever lmao #I was that one person who could get 5-10 service aces in a row #and could hit specific zones on command #or JUST inside the court boundaries #mix up the shallow floats and brutal topspins to keep the defense on their toes #not gonna lie it made me feel a bit evil lol #oh and the curveballs #defensive specialists hated that #ok enough reminiscing #volleyball

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mimasroom2 · 2 months

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My tennis star! (∩˃o˂∩)♡

Secretly dating jock!ellie

C/w: smut but for like 2 seconds. Mention of weed lol. Uhh that’s it this is pretty laid back. This is my first time using those fake texting things I think I like it? Idk

W/c: ≈ 800

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

- She plays tennis bc I said so 🎾

- She’d win a match and she’d post on her instagram story something REAL cheesy like “only reason why we won is because someone special was in the crowd💖” and everyone thinks she’s talking ab a guy but it’s really you >•<

- She��d pull you aside into an empty hallway and lean over you with her arm up (yknow. The classic masc move.) and whisper “You comin’ to the game tonight, baby?”

- It’s so fucking cheesy but you swear she makes your knees weak every time she talks with her sexy ass voice.

- “Too bad I can’t have a massive ass sign that says your name on it all big or something.” You grin widely and she laughs, leaning in to give you a soft kiss.

- You guys go on dates to the mall so she can buy new workout clothes & equipment. Every time you guys see someone you know in a store you split up and pretend to be looking at different things on other ends of the store. Eventually when they leave you two come back together and giggle.

- “Heya stranger.” She grins, showing you some knee high socks she found while she was pretending to look around.

- Only your two best friends know ab you and Ellie, so you’re always having to make up excuses as to why you’re going to the tennis games.

- “They needed help with grilling hot dogs and hamburgers for the game, and you know I always need more service hours!”

- “Man I’m sorry I can’t go to the movies tonight. I already told the tennis coach I’d do face painting for the little kids that come😕”

- You’re studying at your desk when the first message from Ellie absolutely jumpscares you. The girl really needs to learn about context 🙄

- Absolutely all the girls in the crowd and on the opposing team would swoon over her. She lovesssss the attention and always waves at the crowd and blows kisses to them. Sometimes she winks at the girls on the other team to purposefully distract them as they’re serving. You don’t feel jealous though because you know as soon as the game’s over you’re going back to her place to celebrate ;)

- You feel so fucking lucky you’re dating a jock as her toned muscular arm is pumping in and out of you.

- “Fuck,, guess all that racket swinging comes in handy when I’m fucking you, hm?” She smirks, and she was actually right. She could practically finger you forever and never get tired.

- She’s a perfectionist with her playing and in bed. She’d have to make you cum at least twice before she’s satisfied.

- The next morning Ellie has to leave early for practice so she lets you stay in her room to sleep in. She texts you a WHOLE BUNCH, effectively spamming your phone and waking you up:

- She comes up to you one day out of the blue and says “Hey y/n, I’m like so serious can you hide all my stoner shit until this season is over…?” You knew she smoked but she told you she only does it when she’s off in tennis, so you’re surprised when she hands you a shoebox full of all her stuff.

- “Yeah ‘m fine. Coach has been gettin’ on to me. Jus’ more stressed out is all.” Is all she has to say when you ask about it. She runs her hands through her hair, thinking you’re frustrated with her. You’re just glad she trusts you enough to make her keep her promises to herself.

- She’d ask you what your favorite color is and get a special racket in that color for whenever you see her play. She’d say it’s her lucky racket :,)

- You were never super into sports but you loveeeee spending time with Ellie, so she decides to give you some one on one lessons.

- “Yeah, thas’ it, baby.” She’d mutter in your ear from behind you. She’s holding the racket with you and helping you swing your arms the right way.

- You guys didn’t expect to see anyone on the tennis court this early, so when other people come and Ellie recognizes them, she quickly guides you guys behind a tree.

- Your stomach is filled with butterflies as she tucks your loose hair behind your ear and kisses you !!

- You feel like a little kid playing in the woods again because now you and Ellie are sneaking around the park/tennis court trying not to be seen by the other people

- She gets really cocky sometimes and posts soft launches of you on her insta stories

- It would be a picture of you in her lap WAHH! Her tattooed hand is on your thigh with the caption “keeping me occupied”

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

#ellie williams #tlou2 #wlw #ellie the last of us #ellie williams smut #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #lesbian #ellie smut #ellie tlou #ellie williams fluff #ellie x you #jock!ellie #secret dating

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sweetsaladpainterranch · 18 days

Text

The Rival (Part 2)

(Summary: Alastor sought to possess one of the only does in Pentagram City for the rut season, however, you wanted a mate, not a master. But what happens when a handsome new buck shows up one day and tries to capture your attention away from the Radio Demon. Who will you choose?)

Hey, so here is part two as promised (I rewrote it like 40 times 😅) please continue keep in mind that it's just practice for a beginner's writing class

***

Alastor POV

GOD, DAMN HIM ALL OVER AGAIN! How dare this bastard come into HIS territory and make eyes at HIS adorable doe. And how could Charlie, the naïve ninny, allow this…this interloper into their hotel as a guest? Going as far as to prevent him from watering the front lawn with the other male’s blood (and perhaps impaling his head on the entrance gate) in warning for any other foolish would-be usurper. He felt that the spice garden could use some Canadian reindeer mulch.

Alastor couldn’t help but feel he was behind the eight ball thanks to his agreement with the Princess to not lay a finger on any who sought the hotel’s services; however, she even placed the rake next to your room. It seemed like she expected you to show him around and ensure he acclimated to the new environment without issue. To be a friend to this new guest. Was there no end to Charlie’s flagrant disrespect?!

You had had to walk him down to breakfast once because he had gotten “lost” in the hallways and ended up “accidentally” darkening your door asking for assistance. However Alastor knew it was intentional on the misguided reindeer’s part. It was as if James thought he could capture your heart within the span of a five-minute walk to the lobby. Nonsense. But, Alastor noticed how you sported a slight blush when you rejoined the others, with the newest guest in tow by the hand, in response to whatever inane attempt at charm he had thrown your way.

If the flannel fiend wished for a duel, Alastor would gladly oblige.

He had made certain that his precious doe’s hotel door frame was properly marked with scoring from his antlers and his shadow insisted on being posted on guard at night in case of any “lost” reindeer. This didn’t seem to bother you, as your instincts most likely told you to let the males fight it out, so he continued his pissing contest. For instance, no matter where you were, so was Alastor. He continuously shirked his hotel duties in favor of gluing himself to you and if he wasn’t (very publicly) rubbing against your neck or hair to leave traces of his heavy musk, and attempting to jump-start your heat with his pheromones, he was feeding you from the same plate as himself or whispering sweet words into your sensitive ears.

Oh yes, he saw with satisfaction how your ears twitched in contact with his warm breath and how you shivered slightly at his honeyed words of love. He also didn’t miss the glare that the Canadian continuously shot towards him, and aimed a shit-eating grin of his own right back, as you once again unconsciously relaxed into Alastor’s side.

***

Oh yes, The Radio Demon was absolutely certain that HIS doe would choose HIM as the superior mating option like she did every season over the trash that begged for a mere glance from her direction. HE was the one who always provided protection for her during this fragile time. HE always saw to her meals and ensured her nutrition as is the responsibility of the courting male. And HE was the one who you harbored romantic feelings for.

…Those same warm feelings that slept within him as well…

Alastor tried to shut the thought down before his mind strangled itself in a black cloud of doubt. To say that he was wholly unfamiliar with genuine romance, even throughout his many decades in Hell, was an understatement.

He huffed heavily through his nose.

Carmilla better have a good reason for dragging him away from his territory at such a time. As he begrudgingly made his way to the overlord meeting, Couldn't look weak during a season now could he? Alastor reflected on the last time he had allowed his heart to open itself for another long ago. It ended in his technological "friend" nearly voiding him to make a quick buck.

…Never again…

It certainly didn’t help his mood that the start of the rut season was ever hot on Alastor’s heels, but he could only wait for his pheromones to trigger his doe’s heat so every second away from you felt frustratingly wasted. He wondered if your body was taking longer than usual in response to the multiple suitors.

…What if she’s with him…

He shook his head as if trying to forcefully repel the vision of you accepting the other male’s advances. Laughing at James’s crude sense of humor turning into allowing him to drift ever closer to you and eventually seizing his chance to- no, his doe would never betray him.

...She's not mine...

It felt like a stone had settled in the pit of Alastor’s stomach at the thought of you being moved even emotionally by another. Ok fine! He was not the most romantically inclined during the rest of the year, but it wasn’t like you weren’t well aware of this relationship's transaction.

…What if she throws me away too?...

Alastor’s grip nearly broke his cane in half, but he didn’t notice in his shock at such an intrusive thought. She’d never reject him. He remembered how it felt like the whole of Hell suddenly stopped spinning the moment he found you hunched and bloody from defending yourself after an entire herd of bucks had stalked and cornered you in an alleyway. He normally never went out during a rut (can’t let anyone see his body’s weakness) but, even from the hotel, he had smelled something too alluring to ignore. A doe in heat.

Alastor thought you were magnificent in your demon form; legs bent like an actual cervid, claws sharp as knives, and covered in the blood of those filthy bucks who tried to take you by force. Even now the image continues to take his breath away.

…I know her heart needs more…what if I …

No, that is not what this agreement is. You used him and he used you. Just like every other lost soul in Hell, you were leveraging your Satan-given circumstance to better your situation under his powerful allowances. Romance was merely a tool at best and a distraction at worst (Alastor tried to convince himself).

…What if her body chooses the other male’s pheromones…

He stopped dead in his tracks, just a short distance from the Carmine compound, as the surrounding windows shattered, and nearby demons fled from the intensity of his sudden static outburst. He felt his antlers grow and his bones shift in the fury that overcame him at the image of you held under the other man. Keening and gasping James’s name in your desperation to find relief from your heat. A loud snarl escaped him. Dammit! He never should have left her!

…What if his name is on her lips right now??!...

Alastor had never phased through the shadows so fast in his afterlife.

***

Your POV

The kiss ended as quickly as it had begun once you felt yourself suddenly pulled into a suffocating nothingness, you opened your eyes to see that James was being violently shaken around in the air like a ragdoll. Only then did the blood in your ears stop pounding long enough for you to hear the sharp screeching of a ruined record and the overwhelming sensation of staticky pinpricks uncomfortably all over your body. Your instincts kicked in and you immediately scanned the yard for the cause of the disruption though you already knew its source as Alastor’s shadow was winding around your body protectively, but also in a restraining manner.

Your eyes searched for Alastor and found him, standing in between you and the flailing reindeer, to be almost unrecognizable in the most demonic appearance you have ever seen him and it broke your heart. Shit, he must have seen James kiss you and maybe even heard what you two had discussed. His body was completely stretched out and bent at impossible angles as he laughed manically at his rough treatment of James and snarled wildly, “HOW DARE YOU LAY YOUR FILTHY HANDS ON MY MATE!!!!”.

“ALASTOR! STOP IT!”, you cried out in hopes of capturing his attention away from James, but it seemed as though your voice had only made things worse as Alastor flung his prey high into the air with another laugh before turning his attention towards you.

Heavy footsteps rumbled through the air as Alastor stomped towards you menacingly slow like a predator taking his sweet time in devouring its next meal and you pulled at his shadow with all you were worth to free yourself of its confining hold. “Please wait!”, you pleaded with the Radio Demon (this wasn’t Alastor anymore). Surely he was about to kill you just like every other demon who he felt had crossed him and their screams and lifeless eyes danced in your memory, but, until now, you had never felt fear of the same fate. You knew hot tears were pouring down your cheeks and you tried to look as small as possible as the giant deer finally made his way towards you with the most strained smile you had ever seen split his face. It seemed like the green stitches that lined the smile were about to pop and you saw the black void of The Radio Demon’s eyes that were pinpointed by fastmoving golden dials.

You could only continue to sob and whimper out pleas for your life, quickly losing your voice in desperation, as Alastor kneeled down and bent his neck to look into your eyes before growling fiercely in your face. It wasn’t really understandable, but it sounded like the accusation that you could see in his twisted face and your heart sank even further. Of course, he must be feeling betrayed and angry, however, he also looked a bit…hurt? It was only for a moment but you were sure of what you saw and it made you wonder if this was really because he felt mating competition from the other male. You couldn’t ponder this any further, though, because you were suddenly whisked away from the hold of Alastor’s shadow in a vice of muscled arms, a firm chest, and white fur.

The fuck?!

“GIVE HER BACK TO MEEE!!!!”, Alastor roared so loud that your ears began to bleed and tighten even further against your skull.

You were quickly placed onto the safety of the hotel’s nearby back porch and looked up to your new kidnapper, only for your mind to completely blank as you took in James’s transformed body and the eerily powerful aura that radiated from his very soul. He walked in a circling motion towards Alastor as the two sized each other up. James now had two sets of strong, bent deer-like legs that attached to the abdomen of, what you assumed to be, a huge reindeer. His humanoid torso connected to the deer body and his shoulders to his head was adorned with spikes of thick, black antlers that grew more massive and curved as they reached the crown of his hairline. You recognized this form.

Dude was a freaking cervitaur? Wait…are DxD characters actually real??!

You noticed that thin vines lined his antlers with small, colorful flowers growing on them and that with each powerful step he took new plants sprouted from the contact of his hooves with the ground. James’s expression was marred with a threatening look towards Alastor and he began to kick out his back legs into the dirt as he twisted his, now thicc neck, from side to side in a warning display of his impressive but deadly rack.

The Radio Demon didn’t back down, however, returning the gesture as he coiled his body before both demons sprinted directly at each other as two harsh cervid howls rang out through the air like a thunderclap.

***

I really hope that you liked reading this! I enjoyed focusing on Alastor's side of things and James's demon transformation that is actually inspired by a DxD character. The cervidtaur, though James's powers will differ a bit, I believe that the fight of the next part will show off how awesome of a character design it is. 😊(See the pic below) I think I spent like a week researching reindeer aggression signs and how to write in a dude's pov 😂

Taglist: I hope I did this right!

@Xalygatorx , @songbirdpond , @bitter-rabittt, @sakuraluna2468, @cinnamon-galaxies, @speedycoffeedelight, @diffidentphantom, @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this, @eris-norwega, @anngray1369, @ladyadrasteia666, @wends, @prime-in-time-and-space, @supeersimpeer, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @type-ink, @fantasyhopperhea, @martinys-world, @apad-ravya, @galaxywolf3, @thoughfullovercreator, @Boogiemansbitch, @helluva-simper, @alastorsgirl48, @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog, @need-a-life-or-grass, @michi-keinz, @milkissesx, @ari42, @valerie-is-in-the-cupboard, @lil-glum, @amariskygal, @strawberryoverlord1893, @cherry-cola-100, @noellebellq, @lettuce-frog16, @junieshohoho, @phoephan-123, @dreamraven13

#hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x reader x oc

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void-and-virtue · 7 months

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Tired: After Andrew graduates, Neil gets himself the most basic, unassuming used car imaginable. It’s gray and as universally beloathed amongst the original Foxes as Neil’s freshman year clothing choices.

Wired: Neil has a beautiful, sleek, state-of-the-art sports car because he insisted that he’s ‘fine’ and ‘can just run to the court and get some exercise in’ ‘I really don’t get why I’d need a car, Andrew’ so obviously Andrew took it upon himself to make sure he had something serviceable. It’s not Andrew’s fault that he happens to have standards and a sizeable signing bonus to blow on things like this. The car is still gray bc that’s Neil’s favorite color, but it’s a very pretty gray that actually looks amazing on it.

Inspired: Neil drives a cute little car that would be unassuming—if it wasn’t for the bright orange paint job. It is affectionally nicknamed ‘Carrot’.

#When it clicks Andrew is SO MAD #bested by his own joke from four years prior #absolutely wanting to strangle Neil (even more so than usual)#but you know he’d also aggressively save every picture the foxes force Neil to take next to his car and post on his social media #🐰🥕#aftg #all for the game #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil #palmetto state foxes #aftg headcanon

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hyperboleigh91 · 2 months

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Jean gets a service dog, and it, of course, comes to games with him, sitting with the coaches while he's playing. Fans and other teams see the dog and don't even question it. "Oh, the sunshine court has a golden retriever that may be someone's service dog. Yeah. That's the most sunshine court thing ever."

And then people see the Jean Moreau hugging it after a game.

I feel like a large number of people would instantly melt if they saw the best player of the most aggressive position in an already aggressive sport being comforted by his service dog.

#it may just be me #I'd melt #tsc #tsc headcanon #the sunshine court #jean moreau #aftg #all for the game

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b0r3dtod3ath · 2 months

Note

Please write tennisplayer!reader x Oscar. Him coming to a match of hers for the first time, and her explaining stuff to him (just started to get into tennis myself). Them having a good time and just vibing at the tennis open.

Oscar had never gone too deep into tennis before, his knowledge of tennis extended to recognizing names like Serena Williams and Roger Federer. However, when he started dating you, a professional tennis player, his interest in the sport naturally grew.

He couldn’t hide his excitement and confusion as the two of you walked through the green scenery of All England Club. In between your practice and media you took your boyfriend on a little tour to explain a few things.

“Okay, let's start with the basics. No! Wait, we will get the strawberries first” Oscar chuckled at your sudden change of plans but went with it.

As you led him to the food stands, you began explaining the traditions of the tournament, “So, one of the best things about Wimbledon is the strawberries and cream. It’s a must have”. You grabbed a box each and continued your walk. “Okay, now we can continue. Where was I?” you said in between chewing.

You found a quiet area near the practice court. “See those lines? The outer ones are for doubles and inner ones are for singles”. You pointed with your finger. “Got it. And those?” Oscar asked as he gestured towards the perpendicular ones. “That’s the service box, basically when you serve, the ball has to land there. You have two tries and if you fail it’s called a double fault and your opponent gets a point”.

“Uh Huh, but the points are weird, aren’t they? I don’t get them.” he said with scrunched nose which made you giggle. “Yeah, it’s a bit odd. We start with love, which means zero. Then it goes fifteen, thirty, forty. If both players reach forty, it’s called deuce. From deuce, you need to win by two points. So that’s how you win a game and you need six and be up by two to win a set. If it's six-six, we play a tiebreak”.

He nodded trying to organize the information in his mind, “a tiebreak?”. “Yea, we alternate serves and the first to seven, and again up by two, wins” you explained. “Got it. And how many sets do you need?”. “Well, at Wimbledon it’s best of three for women and best of five for men. So I need to win two sets to win a match”.

“Alright, that makes sense, I guess… I don’t know if I can remember all that” Oscar said. “Oh, don’t worry, you’re gonna figure it out as you watch. I’m glad you’re interested. It means a lot to have you here” you hugged his arm as you two walked.

The next day Oscar dressed up nicely and sat next to your team. It was his time to be your wag. He watched you take your headphones out as you entered the court. Your expression was cold, focused and determined, a stark contrast to how he knew you. He couldn’t help but to smile with pride.

The match began, and Oscar’s eyes were glued to the court, more specifically to your side of it. He found the speed at which the serves and rallies happened surprisingly fast. He admired the way you hit the ball with full power, while still keeping it full of grace and precision. Anytime you looked at him he would flash you a big smile and thumbs up.

He found himself not caring about others while cheering louder than anyone else at every point you scored. During the game he had in mind everything you explained to him the previous day. As the match passed he understood the sport more and more, and didn’t hesitate to ask your coach when he got confused.

The match ended with your victory, something that could be easily predicted as it was one of the first games of the tournament. “You were amazing! So fast! I’m into tennis now. You need to teach me” you heard as you approached him after the game. “Thanks Oscar, means a lot. I’m glad you like it because I hope you will be watching me here for the next two weeks” you said as he hugged your sweaty body without hesitation.

July 22, 2024

#f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 imagine #formula one x reader #oscar piastri blurb #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #op81 x reader #op81 imagine #op81 fic #op81 fluff

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iwaasfairy · 2 years

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┌─ “ ! „ ADORE L'AMOUR

tw. noncon/dubcon, implied yandere, forced emotional cheating, virginity, service dom, coercion/manipulation, corruption kink, size kink, creampie, service dom! tsumu, degradation and praise wordcount. 5.5k

a/n. commissioned by a lovely person who wanted to stay anonymous, thank you so much for commissioning me and trusting me with your story, and i really really hope it delivers and you enjoy!!! this is kinda softer than my usual stuff but also still read the tws pretty please ♡♡♡ ya and ty and enJOYyy some tsumu

miya atsumu x fem!reader

“Come up, will ya?” he smiles, grabbing your hand and swinging the interlaced pair back and forth. You can’t help but have to bite back a tiny smile at the way his rougher hand links into yours, and butterflies still erupt any time his hazel eyes find you.

“Shin, I-” you sigh back, before quietly chuckling as he heaves you up onto the bleachers and tugs you along to slide in right next to the familiar face. Aran rolls his eyes, but you can tell that there’s too much fondness in his look to seriously mind the lovey-dovey shit— and really, you can’t help it.

Any girl your age would be expected to go all heart eyes when their boyfriend looks at them that way. “Happy now?” you ask as you’re pushed between Aran and the escape to the outside fresh air, void of all the sweaty teen musk and squeaking sneakers, and Shinsuke smiles ever so slightly at the sight.

“Yes, I am. Keep our long-suffering ace company for a bit while he patches up his ankle, won’t ya?” He’s already escaping down from the stands with the knowledge that you will, because if nothing else, you love watching the guys play. You’ve loved watching Shinsuke play ever since middle school, and Aran’s expression gives you the idea that he knows this too. Because he simply shrugs, and re-wraps the ice pack a little better around that wounded ankle.

“Aye aye, Captain,” you shoot back as he makes his way back to the court, and this time, he gives you that wonderfully cheeky smile that made you fall head-over-heels in the first place. “And you, you’re a third year. You’re supposed to be one of the responsible ones.” You give the tall ace to your side a side-eye as he laughs full and loud, and nods.

“Sorry, Mrs. Kita. It won’t happen again.” Practice continues for another half an hour in peace, as you joke around with your boyfriend’s best friend for a while, tossing the occasional stray ball back onto the court, but mainly, just watching the guys play. You didn’t use to have such a love for the sport. When you were a ball-girl back in middle school, you only did it because it was an easy extra grade on your report card, and kept you sort of busy during hours you wouldn’t have anything else to do.

But now, sometimes it seems as much your life blood as it is theirs. You probably wouldn’t have developed such a crush on the quiet, well-spoken boy with the fluffy tufts of hair that flopped about if you hadn’t kept with it, wouldn’t have dated him, wouldn’t have laid in the dark talking about what your life together might look like. Watched Shin grow into the person he is today.

You smile and wave as Shinsuke looks up at you yet again and throws back a wink, and a few of the guys follow his gaze. Familiar lazy gazes of differing shades of brown. But they stay quiet, for now, and the team captain claps his hands to call for a break. And the lankiest of your middle blockers groans and reaches for a bench too quickly, as everyone disperses. Aran makes his way down the stands for the toilet, Ginjima follows suit, and your boyfriend goes through the trouble to start collecting the balls with the same single-minded focus he always has while practicing. But before you can so much as manage to make it down the stairs to help him out, a familiar figure comes up beside you.

“Captain’s got it, I think,” Atsumu smiles as he comes to walk beside you, not the slightest bit winded despite having jogged up to you after an hour of intensive training— and blinks down at you with the self-assured grin you’ve come to expect of the star setter. “Yer still comin’ to our practices, huh?”

“Yes, Miya. Believe it or not, I actually like watching you guys play, ‘m not just here to waste time and gawk.”

“Whoa, doll,” the blond isn’t fazed, and simply throws up his hands in mock-defense, “I wouldn’t dare question the validity of yer visits. I mean, ya brighten up the place, really.” The comfortable way he swings an arm over your shoulder and leans in a little isn’t too far out of how he usually acts, and you do know that Atsumu’s pretty damn touchy with everyone. But his smile, and the way his eyes flick down your face with an almost grating intensity— will never stop feeling flirty- and therefore- inappropriate. Though you try to find something fitting to say, he’s already running his mouth again before you get the chance to.

“Would be even better if ya’d put on a shirt with my name on it and took some cheer classes,” he gloats, and the way he walks leaned into you keeps his face much too close to yours as you go to frown at him, “bet ya’d really suit the Inarizaki colors when you glare like that.” It sets you off, and he knows it does, because he’s dodging the way you go to swing at his arm with a chuckle before you get to, and catches your fist in his hand to squeeze it a little. “Hah, always so mean to me. Getting predictable, pretty girl.”

Your bottom lip is sucked to slot between your teeth, and you roll your eyes, shrugging off the other hand that he tried to ruffle through your hair. “You’re exhausting.”

“Sure is,” Shinsuke suddenly mumbles, tossing a ball at the setter that he manages to catch, before raising a brow. “That’s my girlfriend, Atsumu. If you would, please.”

“Ya got it, Cap’n. Of course,” he chants back with a sing-song-y voice, but his thumb still rubs another few circles into the soft skin of your hand before he goes to annoy Osamu and Suna instead. It sends a cold shiver down your spine, but he’s pulling away before you have the chance to really acknowledge the touch. And if Kita has any concerns about what he just saw, you sure as hell can’t tell, when he pulls you close and places a loving kiss between your brows. But you still have to force yourself to ignore the way Atsumu gives you a once over and -if you didn’t know the guy better than that- undresses you with his eyes.

Graduation should feel a little bittersweet, you guess. The party isn’t too wild, considering, but it’s still loud and a little over the top— so you confine yourself to the area further away from the pounding music and sip reasonably mild drinks while the rest of the team and their plus-ones take their best attempt at rattling Suna’s house off its’ foundations. It’s warm for a spring night, and sweat sticks to the back of your neck and chest from the earlier forced dancing you were pulled into. But now the pool table has been abandoned for the garden, and you take the few quiet moments to breathe.

Most of the guys will be moving on to professional level, a few of them to university, and another few have jobs lined up. Just last year, Shinsuke moved back out to the countryside, and Aran to Tokyo; and while you’ve all tried to keep up communications, distance really does play a big part in it. And now it’s all your turns… It’ll be safe to say you won’t see some of them again much in just a few quick months. The thought already fills you with a strange sort of nostalgia. You don’t get too much rest though, because a flash of blonde followed by an equally handsome, dark-haired copy filter back into the house. Atsumu brightens a little when he spots you, lazy eyes sharper and more calculating in the low light of the house. Of course he does, he seems to have a strange fascination with annoying you to bits.

“Well, pretty girl, ‘ve ya been abandoned by yer human defense robot?” His handsome face paints on a grin, with slightly rosy cheeks and ears, that almost makes him look a few years younger. Almost makes him look innocent. You know better though, and swallow down the want to give back some snarky comment that would surely have you in a battle of wits until someone puts a stop to it. And his twin… isn’t that person. You wonder how much he’s had to drink. Not that you’re doing much better, anyway. You can feel the buzz in your blood and the heat on your face.

Osamu’s hair is messy and fluffier than usual, probably courtesy of the girlfriend he brought and— with a quick glance around the room— has been left on her lonesome somewhere in the partying group outside. You pity her just a little bit, but it doesn’t exactly surprise you that the Miya twins aren’t the most consistent with their affections. The guys started having groupies all the way back in freshman year, and the years have only built upon that fame. The darker haired of the two puts a fist into Atsumu’s shoulder, before crossing his arms. “That’s our last Captain yer talkin’ about, stupid Tsumu. Show some respect.”

“Aw, Samu. I’m sorry, alright.”

You smile softly, and nod your head towards the door. “Not abandoned. He stepped out for a minute for a smoke,” you cut them off, knowing full well they could continue their bickering for hours if left to it. It’s not like you don’t like the twins. They’re obnoxious, and boisterous and hyper at the best of times, but they’re insanely talented too. You would like them, if not for— Atsumu feeling too comfortable hanging his arm over your shoulder to pull you in for a hug, heavy cologne mixed with a scent that is distinctly more him enveloping you as you freeze up. “Miya-”

“‘S gonna be weird without everyone ‘round, huh? I’ll miss ‘em,” he lowers his voice as he keeps your face into his chest, and simply out of a desire not to feel too awkward, you allow your arms to wrap loosely around his back. You give a little motion to be let out of the hug to nod, and smooth your hands down your pants.

“Yeah, me too.”

There’s a sort of glint in Atsumu’s eyes that seems like tenderness as he pats your shoulder, then smiles. “Well, a’least you’ll know me.” Your expression must give away your confusion, because he continues. “Yer goin’ to Tokyo uni, I’m goin’ to Tokyo to check out some of the teams there. It’ll be good. Don’t tell me yer just gonna ignore me when we’re gonna live so close together.”

You don’t think it over- Shinsuke must’ve told him. As the buzz washes over you and the music picks up outside, Atsumu’s large hands find your shoulders and he turns you around towards Osamu, who has already poured three large shots. “Oh, I don’t-”

“Come on~ for prosperity,” Osamu chants, his hand finding yours to unfurl it and place one of the large shot glasses in your hand. And Atsumu nods behind you, basically glittering from excitement. You’re normally a bit more -standoffish, by necessity- but the atmosphere of the night is light. And Tsumu’s hand on your lower back as he pushes you towards one of the chairs and sits you down is nice; even if you only realize a second or two after that he’s sat below you.

“Ya owe me a couple cheers at least,” Atsumu basically coos into your neck as he taps his own glass to yours. “‘Sides, I think Shin went ta go drop off some of the other guys, no need ta wait up for ‘em. Right Samu?”

“That’s what I heard, Tsumu.”

You don’t expect university to be the thing that breaks you, but the distance, the lack of communication, of support— all drag on you. You and Shin both promised to make it work, but he’s busy a lot. The farm keeps him occupied. At least- that’s what you have to assume when most of your messages get read and not answered. It isn’t like Shin, but then again, you suppose it’s a growing period. It’s natural.

More surprising than that is that through it all, Atsumu is there a lot more than you expected. The giant, prestigious sport center where he trains isn’t too far from your campus, but he still goes out of his way to swing by whenever he can to keep you company, which isn’t so self explanatory as you had hoped it would be. It’s not that you don’t make friends, or can’t make friends, it’s just that- after a few weeks- they just seem to vanish off of the face of the earth. Like they were never even there to begin with. You even catch some people purposefully avoiding you on campus as the year goes on.

But the workloads are heavy, and hard, so you sadly don’t have enough time in a day to worry about it as much as you would like to. You still have Atsumu, at least, and as much as you wouldn’t have wanted to admit it shy of a few months ago, his persistence about wanting to be by your side does slowly have you bending just a little.

“I swear it, cross ma little heart,” the blonde dramatically says while walking the grounds with you- on his free day- “am I not the best goddamn setter in the prefecture? What choice is there?” He runs a hand through his hair, then looks over at you to pout. “Make me feel better, c’mon.” Before you can really analyze the moment or how he looks at you with those warm brown eyes and too much fondness, his hand wraps around yours, slipping his fingers between yours with a strange determination.

You stop walking, and your school bag hits your thigh hard because of the abrupt stop. “Atsumu.” You’ve had this conversation with him about a million times. You are with Shinsuke. You have been with Shinsuke since middle school, and though dealing with the distance is hard right now, you promised to try. And he says he understands, and you’re making a big deal out of nothing— but it sure doesn’t seem like he does. “I am d-dating Sh-”

“Ya keep sayin’ yer dating, but where is yer boyfriend? Didn’t ya say he hasn’t been responding to yer messages?” Though he tries to keep his voice down, he doesn’t let go of your hand, and stares like he’ll burn holes through the shape of you. “Ain’t that proof enough?”

“I know Shinsuke, and you know Shinsuke. If he wanted to break up, he would say it.” You puff your chest out a little, and swallow, trying to untangle your hands from his grip. “He’s busy, and this is a transition period for us both, and I just- I want to make it work.” Atsumu seems to cling on for a second longer with a slight kink in his brow, but then he lets go and sighs, rubbing his hands back and forth through his lighter blonde hair with a groan.

“Fine— fine! If ya gotta hear ‘im say it…”

The irony tastes bitter. It stings with every swallow, really.

‘I think it’s not working out. I’m sorry. We should break up.’

You’re staring at the message for the nth time this evening, burying yourself in your cocoon of blankets and an almost empty back of chips yet again. You must’ve breathed it into existence, right? There’s no way around the timing of the message, and the sick way it churns in your stomach. You’re halfway towards another crying fit when Atsumu plops himself down onto your bed and grimaces. “Put that down,” he mumbles, snatching the phone out of your hand despite your glare, “you’ve been cryin’ all fucking evening. You really wanna do more of that?”

“I didn’t ask you to come over,” your voice is a murmur, pinched and sad and tiny, because who wouldn’t be heartbroken at a moment like this. “You just invited yourself in, which- hck- is the worst timing you’ve ever had.”

“But yer glad I’m here. I know ya are.” Whatever. Maybe you’re a little glad for the company, but Atsumu’s flavor of bluntness is really doing a number on you. Instead you reach for a tissue and blow your nose again, and try not to cry yourself to death. “He didn’t treat ya right anyway, don’t lie t’ yerself. Hey- look- look at me, c’mon,” his hands are on your face as he tugs it towards him and stares too deep into your eyes, brushing his thumbs along your cheekbones. “No more cryin’ about yer shitty high school crush. Not while I’m here, and I’m yer amazing, incredible support system that yer so very grateful for-” He breaks off in laughter when you have to bite a chuckle back despite your heartache, and try to pull your face out of his touch.

But he lingers, and leans in a little. “What? Am I wrong?”

“You’re not wrong, and I- I’m glad you’re here-” It isn’t a lie, but he’s still leaning in, and his face is growing awfully close and it’s- it’s too soon— and you shrink into your cocoon and look away in an attempt to save the situation. Shin broke up with you hours ago. “Atsumu-” you start, only to be cut off as he tugs the blankets down somewhat harshly, and clicks his tongue.

“Stop runnin’. Yer always doing this crap, I’m…” He sighs, and tries to coach you back out with thinly veiled patience. “Am I really so bad to ya? Hm?”

“Of course you’re not.”

He sits back, before patting his lap, and looks at you. In the last light of the sun that falls through your window he’s cast in the prettiest oranges and pinks, and looks almost ethereal to the world. You’re not blind. That was never in question. “Come here.” Despite being conflicted, there’s a glint in his eye that worries you. That if you were to disagree, he’d leave. And you’re not sure you could handle that right about now. As he leads you out of the blankets you notice how cold your room is in just a shirt and some ugly shorts, and Atsumu mumbles something under his breath. “Ya weren’t this shy at graduation, y’know.”

Your frown digs into your face, but his hands settle on your hips as he pulls you in and pushes you down into his lap with a soft hum. “What do you mean- graduation?”

“Just settle down, will ya? Jeez.” Warm hands that slide to the small of your back to force you ever so close to him, your heart basically stuttering out of your ribcage. “Always so damn skittish ‘round me.” You always wondered a little, truthfully. If the way Atsumu’s touches would linger on you was something to worry about, keep an eye on. If you should have been more careful about setting boundaries- and how he looks at you now, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he gives you an up and down… it says enough. Too much, even.

And though you admit that your heart is pattering like a hummingbird, there’s a much larger issue here. You love Shinsuke, you want- Shinsuke, p-promised you’d make it work for him— and it's barely been a few hours. You can’t, so you try to find the words to say; but the blond leans down to start pressing kisses down the side of your neck with a soft chuckle. His arms wrap tightly around your back, even though you place a hand on his chest and shake your head. “Tsumu, no. We can’t, I- can’t, let go.”

The noise he makes into the kisses trembles through your skin and seems to reach bone, before he squeezes a little harder to keep you slotted against him. “Yer so pretty, baby. Always were so fuckin’ pretty,” he goes from keeping you in his lap to slowly pushing you back in bed, sending your breathing into shallow spikes.

“Tsumu, cut it out!”

“I know yer nervous,” his pretty brown eyes are blown out when he pushes you down by your shoulders and you’re buried in your blankets, before he descends on your throat and chest again, kissing and leaving biting nicks, “didn’t do nothin’ like this before right? Know ya were waitin’- but I got ya now. Relax, I’ll make ya feel good. Promise.” The idea that Tsumu knows something so personal about you doesn’t even cross your mind— though it should, more than the way his weight and size locks you in place under his strong, athletic body.

“No, no, I- Shin just broke up with me- and I-”

His expression darkens, eyes narrowing a little as he comes to hover over you, one hand brushing your cheek as the other wraps tight around your wrist. “Don’t say another man’s name when I got ya under me.” He takes a long breath, before descending on you, mouth to mouth, and then pushing his tongue into your mouth too hard for you to keep him out. You try to call his name, but he kisses you without regard, uncaring as he grips your face and makes a noise of agreement when you relax your jaw out of sheer necessity. “Ya’ve got no idea how long I’ve wanted ya, doll. Really, hah.”

His hand slides down your chest to start picking the shirt up your body, and though your rapidly rising and falling chest is exposed, his eyes stay sharp on you, and you can’t help but choke on your cries. He doesn’t look right. His eyes are wide and so sharp, mouth slightly curled as he forces your both wrists next to your head. “Thought I was gonna have ta kill ‘im for you ta finally give in, but-” He kisses you again, before the hand gripping your face snakes down between your bodies to grab your tits through your shirt as he repositions his thighs to lock your lower half in place under him. “Yer gonna be a good little thing for me, ain’t ya?”

“Tsumu,” you squeak, fisting your hands into his shirt by his shoulders, but it only makes him groan in response. “Let me go, I want-”

“You don’t know what ya want.” He takes a deep breath, before slipping his hands under the garment and brushing his thumb over your raised nipples, peeked from the cold air. “But I do. ‘N I’m gonna make ya beg for me so fuckin’ good.” He lets you go for a moment to take your shirt off with rough tugs, before staring again. “See, Samu said I should give it a rest. But how can I, when I knew you’d be the prettiest little virgin cunt ever? Hm?” He licks his lips, before leaning down to start kissing all over your tits, sucking and tugging at your nipples with noises that make you grow from the inside. A cold shiver rolls down your spine, and you find yourself pulling his hair despite yourself. Because it feels good, and heat pools low in your belly.

“Tell me ya want it. Tell me ya want me.” The fire that seems to glint behind his eyes takes you aback, and you try to scramble from under him, but he’s back over you before you get a chance to. Gripping your face and forcing you into another kiss, the taste of his tongue on yours, deep and heavy. “People here hate ya, don’t ya know that? Think yer a real bitch. That’s why no one wants to be yer friend.” He rests his forehead to yours, so that you’re basically breathing each other’s air, and hums. His free hand starts taking off the sweats he’s wearing in a smooth motion, leaving him hard in just boxers. “But I’ve been ‘ere for you.” Another kiss. “I’m good to ya, too.”

The room is so hot, and your brain completely thrown off with the mix of all emotions you’ve felt in these short few hours; and it has you all fucked up. Tsumu must know this, but he doesn’t care. And you take a few panted breaths, looking between your two bodies at the was your tits brush up against him each time you move— he’s so close. “So say you want it, or I’m leavin’.”

“I want it.” Your voice shakes as it comes out, eyes stinging, head floaty— it barely feels like you said anything at all. “I want you.” He takes that as all he needs before grinning, kissing your temple and shuffling off you to shove his boxers down his thighs, before grabbing himself by the base and stroking a few lazy pumps along himself.

“Here, kiss it,” he nods his head towards it, helping you up and then right back down so you’re on your hands and knees. You’re getting wet. Sadly, you didn’t exactly think to put on any nice panties, but Tsumu doesn’t care as he makes you lean in and down until you can rest your lips to his cock, and he makes another noise. “I know it’s kinda bad but- I’ve been wanting ta fuck yer face for years now. Put- yer tongue out.” The admission only makes you feel more hot and hazy, and you do as you’re told. “Ahh, mhm.” He tastes weird when he pushes the glossy head to your tongue, translucent precum coating your tongue, but he takes a few more pumps, then pushes you back over.

“But not now, I wanna fuck you first. Yer gonna let me fuck your tight, little cunt, right?” The plush in your face doesn’t hide the heat as it floods to your face, your belly, down your legs— and he manhandles your legs up to start peeling off your shorts and panties. You can feel the strings of slick as they connect your wet pussy and the fabric, and hide your face into your shoulder before he groans your name again. “Yer so fuckin’ wet, look atcha. Already a little cock tease, and I haven’t even done nothin’ yet.” Your hot, puffy pussy is revealed, and he swipes two fingers out to circle around the wet hole without hesitation, only pulling back to slot the digits in his mouth. He shrugs his shirt off and tosses it next to the bed, then comes to kiss you again.

“Ya taste that? That’s yer pussy gushin’ like a whore for me. Only me.” He kisses like he’s got something to prove, taking your mouth up until all you can think of is him, and the places where your skin seems to zap under his rough hands. Each touch leaving you more breathless than the next. And you’re forced to just nod along and abide, because you couldn’t ask for what you need if you tried. He plays with your tits while pushing first one prodding digit in, but soon pushes up with two. “Gotta- prep this little hole before I fill you up, right? That’d be the nice thing to do. Even though ya haven’t been very nice to me, babe.”

“‘m sorry- Tsumu-” you hold back a whimpering moan as he squeezes your tits hard and flicks your nipples, and his fingers slowly push into you. The wetness dripping down your slit and along your inner thighs is hot, and your body curves instinctively as he slowly slides in and out a few times, while the man above you chuckles.

“No, you ain’t, little minx.” His grin is still wide though, hiking your one leg higher to get a better look at the way your greedy pussy swallows up his long fingers and he fucks you open so easily. “S’okay tho, I forgive ya. ‘Cus I’m gonna get to fuck this pretty pussy first.” The slick sounds fill the room and sound so, so loud, and lewd, and yet, there’s still more noise coming from your throat as he goes deeper again and his thumb finds your puffy clit with a little hum. “Uhuh, that feel good? Look at you enjoying this. Didn’t you want me ta stop? Huh?”

“Hm,” you just answer, grabbing your own chest with one hand, his arm with the other. He’s so much bigger than you like this, so muscular and intimidating. You look between your bodies to watch his fingers bottom out, and though the stretch is a little uncomfortable, it’s mostly just really, really good, filling your head with fog. Tsumu’s thick cock twitches between his legs, and he leans in to kiss you again. This time pulling his hand back to slide it into your mouth instead, making you gag when his fingers hit the back of your throat. You taste heady, a little musky, and lick your lips for the thin thread of spit when he pulls back.

“Alright, say thank you, Tsumu.”

“-thank you, Tsum-” you parrot, and also freeze under him when he goes to reposition himself and his cock head pushes at your sloppy, wet slit. “Wait- condom-”

“Shhh, just relax. If you freak out it’ll hurt ya.” He places one elbow next to your head, and lines himself up better, before starting to push into you already, and your leg jerks. He’s really big. Too big, you think, trying to take a deep breath as he starts breaking open your slick walls and slowly moving back and forth through it. “Aghh, that’s- it, that’s it, thatsithatsit-” He moans loudly, pushing your cheek up and kissing you back long and deep, tongues messily tangling and tasting each other, bumping noses as he fucks in, and in, and in. It pulls every thought out of you, every fiber filled with electricity. The tightness is painful, but you don’t want him to pull back, and judging by the way he groans into your mouth, he won’t anyway.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m fucking my tiny virgin cunt with a condom,” he pants when pulling back, eyes blown wide. His hand pushes your knee up more to stare at where you’re connected, before pulling back halfway and fucking back in, and the pressure on your womb and belly is enough to have you whining out so loud it barely sounds human. “That good, huh?” He bottoms out again, feels so fucking deep inside you that you can feel him high up in yourself bumping against your walls, and it feels so good, so, so good your toes curl and your knees lock around him.

“Fuck,” you can just barely gasp, before he pumps into you again, and starts really grinding himself into you. Slick drips out of you with each thrust, and makes the bed rattle under his weight. His hair sticks matt to his forehead, his lip pulled between his teeth, and the wet slapping of his hips meeting your skin is so distracting. Everything aches. Everything feels so good. You can barely even feel the sting anymore, jerking on his cock like you are. “Tsumu, I-”

“Gon’ have ta wait, princess,” he suddenly chokes, “yer clamping down on me like crazy— fuck.” He lifts one knee to push your legs open more, and then just shakes his head as he starts speeding up. “Oh, fuck it, gonna fill you up first. So fuckin’ tight, god, fuck-” The heavy thrusts go more sloppy, rapid as he chases his own orgasm and squeezes your thigh hard, yanking your teary cheeks back towards him as you pant to slide a finger between your lips and dropping a glob of his own spit into your mouth like it’s normal. Groaning into your mouth, and fucking his fat cock so deep into you you see stars. “One experience at a time, right?”

“Ah, Tsumu- p-please, fuck-me more, more, touch- more.” Your head rolls back as he pulls your hips back into him again and again, before suddenly locking up, and feeling how hot ropes of cum fill you up and he pants out your name in between a string of swears that all melt into a long growled moan as he stills. Only for a second though, because he’s quick to pull out and roll you back so that your knees are by your head, and he’s on top of you. He strokes his cock a few times, watching the last of the strings of thick cum land between your thighs. “Tsumu-” you pant, and take a breath, and pout- all at once. Because he stares at the way his cum comes out of your sloppy hole, before pushing it back inside. “Ughn-”

“Oh, don’t worry, baby. I’m not done. Not even close.” He spits onto his hand before bringing two fingers back to your pussy, and his thumb over your needy, puffy bud. And you jerk, blinks stuttering as you moan high and needy. Can’t help it. “Yer gonna wish I was done with ya long before I let ya out of this bed. I’m not done playing with my pussy.”

#atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #hq x reader #tw.virginity #tw.noncon #tw.degradation #tw.dubcon #tw.size kink #tw.dark content #tw.creampie #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.atsumu

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missinconsistent · 4 months

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The Haikyuu movie is *the* Kenma movie, and I'm living for it. I won't get too into spoilers pertaining to the match, but I will talk about some things in the movie, so if you want to go in blind then stop reading here and go watch the movie!!

I did not expect the movie to explore Kenma and Kuroo's friendship as much as it did, and I love it so much (I didn't read the manga, btw so this was such a surprise). The series already shared quite a lot of flashbacks to their childhood and them playing volleyball together. But, it was always framed in a way that Kuroo kinda dragged Kenma along into playing volleyball with him. I never really expected these childhood flashbacks to mean any more than that. The movie really explored *why* Kenma played volleyball thanks to Kuroo. It really emphasized how important playing volleyball *with* Kuroo meant to him.

Like the scene back to the summer camp when Kenma is thinking he'd rather not play volleyball over playing a video game or watching volleyball, but then Kuroo calls his name and reaches his hand out is just so sweet. Especially considering that Kenma is most likely thinking how this is Kuroo's final year.

I am obsessed with how Kenma's friendly rivalry with Hinata actually parallels his friendship with Kuroo through flashbacks. With Kuroo being the friend that got him to play volleyball, and Hinata being the friend and rival that really pushed Kenma to take a match seriously, and see how fun it can be.

And idk if my take is different, but I really like how Kenma doesn't have a Tsukishima arc. The match doesn't make him fall in love with volleyball, but it just makes him realize that even if he doesn't love the sport, he loves a good and interesting match with his friends. He doesn't care about nationals. He just likes playing against Hinata, in particular (imo). But I think that's what makes the match between them so damn investing.

It's so refreshing to see the movie mostly revolve around Kenma's pov and see this character break out of his shell and push himself. To decode Hinata in an attempt to beat him and have his expectations blown away. Seeing this competitive, smug, and serious side of him is such fan service and I love it lol.

The scene when the match plays out from Kenma's eyes is so (chef's kiss). It's a bit nauseating, but it genuinely is my favourite moment in the movie. The way Kenma's eyes are on the ball before darting across the court, glancing over at his teammates and opponents, and back to the ball again. When it even shows Kenma taking a fall, Lev checking up on him, and Kenma just shouts to focus on the ball, I was just floored with how well it immerses you in the match. It just really has you on the edge of your seat, and quite literally puts you in Kenma's head to know this guy who is seemingly indifferent to volleyball, in that moment, is having the time of his life.

It's such a good climactic moment that's so different from other concluding matches from the series prior. It's not about big final builds up to the final strike, or block, or whatever move the characters are doing. It's just about being in the moment. About Kenma being in the moment. And it's such a brilliant and unique way to end the match.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu movie #battle of the garbage dump #kozume kenma #kenma #kuroo tetsurou #hinata shouyou #kuroken #kenhina

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mayghosts · 2 months

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hiii love all ur fics ur so talented!! could u possibly do like kate fluff headcannons 🤭🤭

Kate Martin: Fluffy Headcannons

Summary: Request :)

Warnings: nada!

AN: that actually means so much to me tysm 😭🫶, trying to get more active again y'all expect more to come

✦ love language is either touch or acts of service

✧ if you are ever having going through a rough patch with mental or physical health, she is such a good care taker

Stepping out of the bath Kate had ran for you, you gently padded out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. “…Kate baby, my room was such a mess how did you clean this!?” Smiling at you she began to make her way over to you, “hi pretty girl, it was nothing I can’t handle!” You sighed as you let her pull you into bed and under the covers, “you really didn't have to…” kissing the crook of your neck and shoulder she replied “Don’t stress it babe, anything for my girl.”

♦︎ She’s always walking you to class or to your job, even if she has somewhere she's supposed to be

✦ Loves driving you around and running errands with you

“What are you doing today?” You hummmed into the phone speaker “Nothing much, I have a dentist appointment at three, what are you doing baby?” You heard shuffling coming from the other end of the phone, “Well, I have to drive this really pretty girl to her dentists appointment at three…”

✧ BIG hugger, she's always got her arms around your waist and her head on your shoulder

♦︎ If you guys are going on a date, 99% of the time its an activity (mini golf, pottery painting, cooking classes, glad blowing, amusement park etc etc)

✦ loves watching you get ready; she will just lie on your bed and watch you do your makeup and try on different outfits

✧ Loves telling you how pretty you look or how much she loves an outfit

♦︎ you guys are the team parents, if you aren’t on a sports team, she helps you land the team manager position

✦ she's always looking for you on the sidelines during games, she claims she plays better when you are there (you are never not there)

♦︎ After she beat UConn, she dragged you onto the court with her and she kissed you in the confetti

✧ When you two move in together, you adopt an elderly dog from a local shelter together. The dog adores you, but Kate is always spoiling the dog to try and “win it over”

Walking down the hallway full of dogs in pens Kate squeezed your hand. “I think I have the perfect dog for you two… right in here!” The veterinarian let the two of you into a small side room where you were greeted with a sweet, old, terrier mix. The old dog lifted her head to glace at Kate before it walked right up to you, completely ignoring Kate. “Ha! she likes me more!” you gloated at you girlfriend who pouted back at you. “That dog is going to love me in no time! Just you wait!!”

✦ forehead kissed + hand holding = Kates version of PDA

♦︎your family loves her, she fits in perfectly during holidays and reunions

✧ NEVER forgets your anniversary or your birthday and she always goes full out for special events

♦︎Has you a notes document full of all of your favorite things so she will never forget

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reality-detective · 2 months

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More on JD Vance 👇

There's a connection here and I haven't found it as of yet. 👇

Something else to think about 👇

More dots are being connected 👇

Sidney Austin Law Firm - Specialties:

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What do they have in common? All things the cabal controls!

Yale Graduate and Wife of JD Vance, Usha Chilukuri?? A marriage made in Freemason Cabal Heaven. She worked in the Iraqi Refugee Assistance Project. She also worked as Law Clerk for both the Supreme Court and DING DING DING worked for Chief Justice Epstein Island regular customer, John Roberts and Brett Kavanaugh. Her voting History shows she has not VOTED in Hamilton County since 2022 and voted Democrat when she lived in Connecticut......I smell a Deep State fake Republican! 👇

Connected to the CIA 👇

CIA Pride👇

Q has even mentioned a JD Vance connection in a post 👇

Feel free to go down some rabbit holes because I am just about done with what appears to be another deep state clown 🤡 👇

Has a deal been made? Was he infiltrating the swamp? Is he going to be exposing more turds floating in the punchbowl? Do you think it is odd to see all these accomplishments at the age of 39?

Trump put ass clowns like this in the spotlight for a reason in the past... Is he doing it again? Trump keeps his friends close but he keeps his enemies closer. Remember we're at war, a mop-up situation... You Decide 🤔

94 notes · View notes

hufflegruff · 1 year

Note

girl the way i RAN when i saw you asking for requests as a break from a knowing look!!! if youre down to maybe do something like hurt comfort vibes? with sebastian x MC? like mayhaps they’re fighting and MC gets hurt and protective Sebastian comes out? literally in love with everything you’ve written!!! you’re amazing! <3

I was meant to write a drabble but somehow this became a NOVEL?! Good lord. I really wanted to do it justice!!! I hope you guys still enjoy it!!!

It takes a disaster

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader Word Count: 5k Contains: Fluff, angst, making out!!! Requested: The lovely @ithinkweallsing and @musicbecky had similar requests about protective Seb x hurt MC so I combined both :)

Summary:

“And why didn’t you think to tell me that you were struck by a bloody unforgivable curse before you fell lifelessly onto the fucking floor!” He yelled. She winced at the loudness of his voice. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch the love of your life almost die in your fucking arms?” His deafening voice echoed through the chambers of the hospital wing. She stared at him, mouth agape. Sorry, was she dreaming? What was that he just said?

It takes a disaster

When she first resigned to the pitiful fact that she was very likely in love with Sebastian Sallow, she accepted her fate. Doomed to suffer in an unrequited love she held for her best friend.

Merlin, it was such a cliché.

Honestly, she would have laughed at herself if it didn’t also feel so pathetically miserable.

Somewhere along the way, amid catacombs and restricted sections and ancient relics, she found herself becoming dissatisfied with just friendship. And before she could even catch herself, she had already fallen. Buried ten feet underground by the weight of her own despicable, cavernous feelings.

Because they’d been best friends for long enough for her to know that Sebastian Sallow flirted like his livelihood depended on it. If courting witches was a sport, he’d be a professional. It came to him as naturally as breathing.

That was why Cressida Blume battered her eyelashes so feverishly everytime he was near. And why Samantha Dale had been so Goddamn adamant on being her potions partner, so she could siphon hints on how best to charm the Slytherin for herself.

And why she would never entertain the idea that any of Sebastian’s pretty words could be anything more than lip service.

So she went out of her way to find reasons to keep herself busy. Taking jobs and doing favours for townsfolk in the vicinity, so that she wouldn’t have to sit with her own feelings. Or Sebastian himself. Hoping that by the time it came for them to leave Hogwarts, that she would find peace and leave her feelings for him in the deepest depths of the castle.

The distance would help. It just had to.

Unfortunately for her, when she had said that she was heading to the poacher camp up in the Poidsear coast by her lonesome, Sebastian insisted that he absolutely had to come along.

“Don’t be daft. Of course I have to come with you. Who else is going to swoop in when your sorry arse needs saving?” He teased.

She was almost offended, “I don’t need a babysitter, Sebastian.”

“Not a babysitter,” he clarified, “A knight in shining armor,” with a dashingly flirtatious smile.

She felt her heart flutter, and cursed his annoyingly perfect fluffy hair for it. What business did it have looking so attractive? Honestly, the cheek of these Slytherin boys to say such rousing things.

Ominis, Sebastian and herself had been lazing in the grass in front of the main school grounds. But with a deft wave of his hand Seastian beckoned over his broom, and it zipped obediently over.

“Come on. Let’s go.” Sebastian said easily.

“What? Right now?” She replied in disbelief.

“Well, I don’t see anything better to do. Do you?”

From beside him, Ominis piped up annoyed, “Um, excuse me. Did we not agree that we needed to finish our group project today so as to not suffer the wrath of Sharp’s horrid temper?”

Silently, she thanked Ominis for the diversion and prayed Sebastian would take it.

“Like I said. Nothing better to do.” Sebastian reiterated shamelessly.

Ominis rolled his eyes, “Absolute moron you are. Whatever. Take him off my hands for all I care.”

Well that didn’t go at all the way she hoped.

“But I’ve… not even stocked up on my potions.” She said weakly.

Sebastian wasn’t having it.

“Come on, it’s just a routine poacher clear out! I’ve got a couple of Wiggenwelds on me. You know it’s going to be a cakewalk for the both of us.”

She could never say no to him. Not when he looked at her like that. She imagined that most girls couldn’t either. An ugly, decrepit feeling bubbled up in the pit of her stomach. But she willed herself to push the unhelpful thought down and out of sight.

“Fine.” She caved with a haughty flip of her hair, “But try to keep up. I don’t want to have to take care of you out there.”

In a ridiculously exaggerated display of chivalry, he offered her his hand and led her onto the broom with a coy smile.

“Ladies first.”

This boy was going to be the death of her. The ride to Poidsear would all but confirm that.

Sebastian had insisted that she sit in front of him to steer — and for the life of her, she couldn’t understand how she had willingly agreed to put herself in this position. His breath was right in the crook of her neck, and his warm hands were wrapped all too tightly around her waist. Did he really think that she could steer like this? She was appalled at how totally inconsiderate he was by being so oblivious to her feelings.

She could hardly hear her own thoughts — not even the intrusive ones — let alone focus on the fly.

Was he doing this on purpose? Because it was annoying.

The singularly, most vexing thing he could do in fact. She had a mission to concentrate on. She didn’t need to be sidetracked. She hadn’t even wanted him and his distracting face to come along in the first place.

“Merlin. Hold me any tighter and I might burst, Sebastian.” She tried her best to make it sound casual. With the light cadence of a joke, and not the high stakes affair it felt like.

“Well, I can’t risk having you falling to an untimely death under my watch. I’d never hear the end of it from Ominis. Or Samantha. For killing her potions partner at such a crucial time in the academic year,” He joked.

His tone was teasing, but she hated that his words sounded so… carefree. Completely unbothered. It bruised her heart more than she liked to admit, but it hurt her to know that he probably thought that this was the same as being in close proximity to Anne.

And why the bloody hell did he have to mention Samantha Dale at a time like this? Unprompted and all. Teenage boys really had no tact. If that had been a glimpse into Sebastian’s mind, she didn’t want to see it. Lock it up and throw away the keys and unleash it into the depths of the black sea to never be found.

If she just ignored it, and never faced it head on, maybe her heart would break a little bit softer.

“Right.” She replied curtly, willing the dejection she felt to go away.

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

“No.”

He paused in contemplation, before declaring, “You’re upset.”

He had said it so matter of factly she almost couldn’t disagree with him. Almost. She cursed herself for not being able to hide the bitterness in her voice better. She cursed him for noticing this of all things.

“Don’t be silly. I’m not.” She retorted harshly.

When the words left her mouth, she quickly regretted them. She felt guilty for how unnecessarily rude it sounded. But she couldn’t talk about this. There was objectively no good way to explain why she seemed so irrationally bothered without emotionally vomiting her feelings onto him.

But before she could apologise, he chose to let it go.

And she didn’t know if she felt relieved or even more devastated.

The rest of their journey to Poidsear was endured in silence. When they finally arrived, they landed just at the precipice of the poacher camp. It was time to get serious, she mentally chided herself. There was simply no time to torment herself with such frivolous nonsense.

They kept out of sight behind a mountain of crates next to a tent. Making sure to stay hidden, she briskly surveyed the scene. She could see from the corner of her eye, a family of hippogriffs chained in cages by the Eastern front. But getting to them would be no easy feat; the area was littered with Ashwinders at every corner.

“God. There’s more of them than I thought.” She whispered to herself.

“Worried? How very unlike you.” Sebastian raised a brow in response.

“Not at all. It’s just you would think that these degenerates would have more productive things to do with themselves than taking magical creatures as prisoners.” She whispered with a scoff.

She had not even one ounce of respect for the Ashwinders, especially those of the poaching variety. Those who made a nefarious career out of hunting innocent, majestic creatures for blood sport were the worst of them.

To her surprise, when she turned to look at Sebastian, he was looking straight at her with an enigmatic smile.

And then suddenly, she felt self-conscious.

“What?” She whispered nervously.

Sebastian murmured warmly, “This is a little nostalgic is it not?”

“How so?”

“You. Me. The exhilarating thrill of getting caught at any moment. Feels like fifth year doesn’t it?” His voice was lower than usual, quieter, with a hint of something dastardly alluring.

It made her heart skip an alarming amount of beats and her skin shiver at the sound of it. She felt an outrageously girlish impulse to snog him and hex him and run far, far away from him all at once. What she would give for him to have a taste of his own medicine. Even if he wasn’t in love with her, maybe she still could grab him by the collar and kiss him silly until his lips were bruised.

Maybe that would finally fluster him.

Because by God, he deserved to be put in his place for all the bloody grief he unknowingly gave her.

He was looking at her so affectionately, and that was just so uncalled for. Honestly, she didn’t know how he managed to flirt so skilfully even in the face of imminent danger. In the near vicinity of bloodthirsty dark wizards. If she wasn’t so conflicted by it all she would be impressed. She imagined that Sebastian Sallow could probably flirt with Death himself and get away with it.

Perhaps that would be a rather useful quality in an Auror. Perhaps, when they were back in the safety of the castle, she would suggest it as a fitting career path for him—

“Look what we have here. A little far from Hogwarts aren’t we?”

She felt her blood freeze over at the sound of the new voice. Sebastian stiffened. A sinister chill ran up her spine.

When she turned, she was greeted by the menacing smile of an Ashwinder, cloaked in shadows. And almost as if the Hermes had struck her himself, the girl wonder retaliated at reckless speeds and pointed her wand with venomous hostility at the dark wizard in front of them.

Fuck. She cursed internally. Her guard had been irresponsibly down. She hadn’t even heard him approach them.

Sebastian probably sensed her panic, and squeezed her hand twice.

Once to comfort her, the second to ask her to follow his lead.

Raising his hands up in mock surrender, Sebastian said sardonically with a wry smile “Sir, we were just passing by the area. We didn’t know that this was private property. Terribly sorry for the intrusion. If you allow us, we’ll be on our way now.”

The Ashwinder scoffed, “Save it kid, I know exactly who you two meddlesome brats are.”

“Oh well that’s unfortunate.” Sebastian said patronisingly.

Her grip on her wand tightened. She wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with this, but she knew that she had to be ready.

“Why’s that?” The Ashwinder asked with a laugh.

“Because that means I have to do this.”

And suddenly, with a swift motion, Sebastian lunged forward with his wand. And almost as if by blind, brazen instinct, her own hands followed suit.

“Confringo!”

“Expelliarmus!”

“Protego!”

Red, green, and blue. The colours of their spells cackled at lightning speeds against the howling wind.

But soon enough their commotion caused a ruckus, and it became an army against two measly bodies.

“Shit!” Sebastian cursed under his breath.

And frankly, she had to give it to them to their credit, these Ashwinders proved to be pretty formidable adversaries. They moved faster than the others did. And their spells missed her more narrowly than they normally did. But still, actually hitting her was the aim. Close enough wasn’t good enough, and she was determined to make sure that they would never achieve it.

She’d make sure of it — they didn’t call her the girl wonder for nothing.

Spells collided and echoed around her, the acrid scent of fire filling her nostrils. If peril were a smell, this is what she imagined that it would smell like.

And in the midst of the chaos, without a surge of power erupted from one of the Ashwinders. Like a strike straight out of God’s hand — with a single, severe flash of light — a calamitous spell was unleashed, enveloping the camp grounds in a sheathe of blinding white.

And when the light became less blinding, she found herself separated from Sebastian.

Panic welled up within her as she searched the battlefield, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Sebastian!" She called out.

Where was Sebastian?

Fuck. That wasn’t good. She needed to find Sebastian.

Like insidious tendril vines, fear crept into her veins. Yet she willed the anxiousness in her brain to focus; willed it to calm down. Sebastian was a capable wizard. He could handle a few pesky Ashwinders.

Just as capable as she was.

Because with a flick of her wrist, shields shattered and hexes were deflected. With every spell she cast, the wind sang as her curses hit bodies, like a force of nature answering her call. One by one Ashwinders fell under the weight of her unyielding assault.

But then a piercing hex sliced right through her defences.

Her protego shattered, and she was thrown backward into a mess of limbs onto the ground.

“Crucio!”

The sound of the spell sent chills down her spine. It brought her back to the scriptorium. It brought her back to a shadow of Sebastian that she had been trying to forget.

But before she could run, scream, dive or react — it reached her.

And just as torturously as it had the very first time she endured it, pain erupted through her body as she was thrown backward, limbs contorting as she crumbled in agony onto gritty soil. Back then, it had felt as if lightning had struck every single nerve ending in her body. This time it felt like she was burning under a flame that was twice as brutal.

The pain was relentless. Her mind screamed for respite, for any brief release from this torture. She clawed at the ground, gripping her nails deep into the dirt, as if seeking solace in the earth itself. But there was no escape. No reprieve.

Through the haze of pain, she caught glimpses of the Ashwinder that had casted the curse. Even through her blurry vision, she could see that they were gloating. Content at how they had reduced her to nothing more than a writhing, broken vessel.

And God, that pissed her off immensely.

If they could sense the literal thunder in her veins, she wondered if they would be so cavalier?

She didn’t think so.

Through gritted teeth; through sheer determination, she struggled onto her feet with her body shaking in defiance. Summoned the last remnants of her ancient magic, her wand trembling in her shaky hand. A surge of energy flowed through her veins. The air above the tips of her fingers crackled with raw power as she channeled her magic, focusing it into a singularly devastating spell.

And when it hit the Ashwinder, it eviscerated them in waves.

In between all the fighting and screaming and surviving, she didn’t remember much of the details.

But all of a sudden, it was silent.

And all of the sudden, it was just her standing alone in plumes of dust.

When the air finally settled down, she felt herself start to cave. The adrenaline had done its job and was quickly leaking out of her blood stream. As if she had exerted and drained every last ounce of her spirit and was on the verge of collapse.

Was it just her, or were the skies starting to fade?

The pain in her chest was still excruciating. This cruciatus curse felt different from the one that Sebastian had casted on her before.

This one was lingering.

Like it was clawing onto her heart and gripping onto it in a chokehold with a resentful vengeance. Despite having just won, she didn’t have a spare moment to feel relieved. The pain was quickly growing and air couldn’t seem to reach her lungs fast enough.

But Sebastian… Where was Sebastian? The panic began to rumble within her. She had foolishly let her own guard down, and let him out of her sight. She mustered what little energy she had left and moved her head frantically in search of him.

How could she ever forgive herself if she let him die?

But when she saw a figure barreling head first towards her, even through blurry eyes and the crackle in the depths of her tired limbs, she knew that it was him. And like an oasis in the blistering desert, the comfort she felt from seeing his face was a brief solace to the pain.

If this was where she was destined to meet her end, she hazily deliberated, at least she could draw her last breath in peace knowing that he was safe.

(Not to be dramatic or anything.)

When Sebastian finally caught up to her, he laughed and bursted out breathily, “Merlin… Whatever you and your ancient magic did back there was insane.”

He was safe, and that was all that mattered. She didn’t have the energy anymore. Not for a conversation, let alone banter. She needed to preserve her last scraps of her battered stamina to make it back to the castle and patch herself up in solitude.

And one thing was for certain: Sebastian could not know.

“I think we managed pretty well.” He said with a tired smile.

“Yeah,” she replied breathily, “W-we did good.”

She sounded a mess. She hoped that he wouldn’t notice.

To her dismay, the look on his face immediately switched into that of deep concern.

He interrogated hurriedly, “What wrong? You sound a little off. Are you hurt?”

Everything was wrong. The discomfort that gripped her chest was getting worse with every passing second. Standing was starting to become too taxing of an undertaking for her.

But needless to say, she didn’t want another thing to worry about, and Sebastian would always make an unnecessarily big fuss anytime she was hurt. Even if it was just a minuscule scratch. He was always too distraught; too tender. It was one of the things she adored most about him.

And she absolutely loathed him for it.

So her stubbornness was persuaded that suffering in silence was the easier of two fates.

Indignantly, she retorted, “How rude. I’ll have you k-know I’m perfectly f-fine.”

Her words were starting to slur, not that she noticed. But Sebastian clearly had. Assertively, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her towards him.

“You’re not fine.” He declared demandingly.

As he frantically searched her eyes, arms, back, legs for signs of what was wrong, she found herself nuzzled in the nook of his chest. She felt her willpower wither slightly in his flustered hands.

In the shallow breaths that she took, she could smell him. The musk of pinewood and sputtering fireplaces and late nights drifting in the restricted section. An aromatic cocktail that was overwhelmingly intoxicating.

Now she was getting angry. And drowsy. And dizzy. Why couldn’t Sebastian tell that he was being so selfish by being so considerate? He needed to stop touching her so carelessly. She was lightheaded enough as it is, she didn’t need his excessive gentleness to add fuel to the flames of her absurd delusions.

But maybe if she just closed her eyes and rested for this brief moment. Sebastian would take the hint and just leave her be. Maybe all she needed was a quick lie down and he would see that she was perfectly fine.

“Oh fuck, there’s so much blood— hey, hey!”

She could see Sebastian calling out her name, but she couldn't hear it. And soon enough she realised, she wasn’t fighting it anymore. And soon enough, Sebastian was no longer in sight. Soon enough, she found herself alone in a quiet, soothing darkness.

Something was twisting at her to give into slumber. Into solitude. Into emptiness. She vaguely remembered from one of Sharp’s more riveting lectures that when poisoned - one should always fight the urge.

But she could still feel the warmth of Sebastian’s hands on the small of her back, and the comfort of it lulled her to relinquish control. After a few ambivalent moments, drifting in and out of awareness, she surrendered to sleep.

When she woke, she was greeted by a horrendously pounding headache. She had no sense of place, but a low groaning ache in her bones. Her eyes struggled to open, but she could feel the warm sun on the tip of her nose, and the tips of her cheeks. The softness of the sun quelled a little bit of the soreness in her body.

She deduced that wherever she was, it was warm and safe. Despite the ache in her bones, there was also a weightlessness to her body. Therefore, she somehow rationalised with herself that this was very likely heaven.

Or any other religious equivalent afterlife.

She wasn’t picky. Any one would do, really.

When her bleary eyes finally pulled themselves open, the fragmented parts of her vision pieced together a faint picture. Of pristine white linen and crisply casted grey brick. A peculiar blend of sickly artificial peonies and concentrated chemicals flooded her nostrils.

Which was odd. Because she hadn’t imagined that the afterlife would feel quite so sterile.

“Fucking hell,” spoke a voice she could never not recognise, and she was shocked.

Did heaven include conjuring up a phantom Sebastian from the figment of her deepest imaginations to keep her company for the rest of eternity?

“Sebastian?”

“You’re awake.” His voice was hoarse.

When her eyes finally focused, she saw him properly. It was definitely Sebastian Sallow, the boy that had her heart leaping acres across the Hebridean seas. But in all her years of knowing and pining for him, she’d never seen him look so terrible. His hair was disheveled as if it had endured a torrid storm. His eyes were heavy and solemn, as if they had tolerated an eternity of grief.

This seemed all too real. Too visceral.

Maybe this wasn’t heaven.

“Am I dead?” She thought to confirm.

He laughed a humourless laugh.

“No. You’re in the hospital wing.”

So this was real. She was in pain because her body had been bruised like a peach.

When she finally looked around, she found herself neatly tucked into the covers of an infirmary bed. She couldn’t recall how she got here, and only remembered a few little scraps of the event that led up to Poidsear. But if she had to be certain of anything, Sebastian must’ve brought her back to the castle.

“I guess that makes sense,” She said with as much mirth as she could muster, “Heaven couldn’t be this quaint.”

Clearly Sebastian hadn’t found it funny at all, which is why she was met with silence.

As she cleared her throat, she asked, “What happened?”

For some reason, Sebastian was doing everything in his power to avoid her eye.

“An Ashwinder hit you with a modified version of the cruciatus curse. She tampered the spell and combined it with a blood poisoning hex. You… could’ve died.” He said through gritted teeth. It seemed as if he struggled to even get the words out.

In an attempt to diffuse the graveness of his tone, she made a joke.

“Unlucky. Maybe next time they try to kill me they’ll actually get it right.”

But once again, Sebastian didn’t laugh. If anything, he only got more aggrieved. She felt his grip on the edge of her bed frame tighten so fiercely, she could see his veins pop and his knuckles turn red. He was being so serious — and she was not at all used to serious Sebastian. She had only seen this side of him once or twice, and only ever because of Anne.

“Are you … upset?” She asked cautiously.

“I’m fucking furious.” He said.

She was gobsmacked.

“Why?”

Finally, he looked at her straight on and her stomach flipped at the sight of it. He looked absolutely distraught. Like the splintered shell of a boy who had been cracked open and drained dry of his will to live. Behind the hard look in his eyes, radiated something cloudy, tempestuous and devastating.

“It was my fault that we were even there.” He said

She hadn’t known that a voice could carry such grief and anger simultaneously. But Sebastian’s voice was laced with insurmountable despair. And it broke her heart irrevocably to think that she could’ve caused him so much pain.

Did he think that he was to blame?

That was ridiculous.

“I thought-” he started to say again, but his voice cracked.

I thought I lost you? I thought I’d left you for dead? She wondered if that was what he was going to say.

“Sebastian…” She finally began “It’s not-”

“And why didn’t you think to tell me that you were struck by a bloody unforgivable curse before you fell lifelessly onto the fucking floor!” He yelled.

She winced at the loudness of his voice.

“I didn’t think-”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch the love of your life almost die in your fucking arms?”

His deafening voice echoed through the chambers of the hospital wing.

She stared at him, mouth agape.

Sebastian himself looked shocked by the words out of his own mouth.

Sorry, what was that he just said?

Was she dreaming? Was she hallucinating? Had Sebastian Sallow really said that he loved her? Her? Complicated, chaotic, haphazard her? Even if her brain couldn’t quite process what she was saying, her heart had certainly understood. It was battering against her ribcage so firmly that she swore it would no sooner burst out of her chest.

“You… love me?” Even as the words sat in her mouth, even as she tasted it meticulously on the edge of her tongue — she still couldn’t believe them.

With his head buried in his hands, Sebastian groaned.

Obviously that wasn’t what he had wanted to say, and that terrified the living shit out of her. He looked as if he considered going back on it. Saying that it had just been an emotional slip of the tongue.

But to her surprise, he stood firm.

“Fuck.” He cursed, “Isn’t it fucking obvious?”

His words still weren’t fully sinking in. Her brain was running so fast that it was on the verge of failing her entirely. There were so many things she wanted to ask him. Was it obvious? To who exactly? By what egregious definition? And did he expect her to just take his word and say that this little detail was always hidden in plain sight for her to find?

Then there were other more intrusive thoughts she couldn’t shake. Like what about all the girls that fawned over his every word. What about all the other girls that were softer, prettier, more endearing than her? She just hoped that whatever she chose to say, that she wouldn’t let out the intrusive ones first.

“...What about Samantha?” She blurted practically incoherently.

Oh Merlin. Why did she say that? Why was that the first thing she said to him after she had just been on the verge of death? After he had just confessed his love for her.

Never had she felt so exasperated with herself for being so dumb.

Unsurprisingly, Sebastian looked at her as if she’d just grown three heads. She also considered that maybe she had enunciated so poorly that he hadn’t understood a single thing she said. Either way, just as she was about to laugh it away - change the subject - he responded.

“... What about Samantha?”

Suddenly, she felt too shy to ask. But she knew she had to follow through.

“... You’re not in love with Samantha?” She asked meekly.

Sebastian stared at her in absolute disbelief.

“Are you crazy?” he began incredulously, “You think I fancy Samantha Dale?”

It wasn’t that crazy of a thought, she wanted to retort.

But before she could even get a word in, Sebastian bulldozed on.

“Fucking hell. I think I’ve mentioned her name all but three times in the last six years I’ve been in this castle. All I talk about is you all day everyday, which makes Ominis go absolutely livid! All you have to do is say my name and I’d stop everything at the drop of a fucking hat to do literally anything you ask for me—”

Did he know what he was saying? She wanted to scream. The feelings in her chest were so intense she feared that she might just throw up.

Could he hear the absolutely ludicrous and inconceivable things coming out of his silly mouth? Did he know what in Salazar’s name he was saying to her?

And he wasn’t even done yet.

“—I look for you in every hallway, every classroom, every corner in this bloody castle! For Merlin’s sake, I can’t even begin to fathom how you could not know that I’m stupidly love with you—”

Despite herself. Despite the stabbing pain in her chest. Despite the stitches in her lungs. She lunged her body forward and pushed her own chapped, split and desperate lips onto his.

And when their lips met — good God.

She had no idea how she had waited so long to do this.

And she hoped for his sake that Sebastian hadn’t said any of that lightly, because now that she had finally had him, she was never ever letting him out of her shaky, unpracticed hands.

At first, Sebastian had been taken aback. His mouth unmoving, eyes open in disbelief. It was as if he was observing the scene from outside of himself.

But then soon enough — he was all in, and he had his hands cupping the curve of her cheek to pull her closer to him. Soon enough, Sebastian was kissing her like he was looking for something. Pushing, pulling, scouring the shape of her mouth like she was a puzzle to be deciphered. Gripping tightly onto the sides of her waist and the small of her back like she was a prized to be possessed.

And she obliged.

Whatever he wanted to know she’d tell him. If she were a prize, she'd use every cheat every ruse in her arsenal to make sure he'd win.

She just hoped that her needy moans conveyed her willingness to be compliant in his competent hands.

Her limbs ached, her bones groaned. This kiss was too wild, too strenuous, too demanding for her worn out body. But she didn’t care. The floodgates had opened now, whether either of them knew it, and this feeling was unquenchable.

He tasted like home and aftershave and salt and all those silly peppermint candies he ate all the time. If she could fasten herself to him with an irreversible stitch, she would. If she could seal herself into a perfect mould of his arms, she would. If the shivers that raced down her spine could etch themselves permanently into her nerve endings in her skin, she’d gladly bear the mark.

In between peppered, sloppy kisses, she managed to gasp, "I'm in love with you too."

There was no time for pauses. She had no use for breathing; no use for air. She had no use for anything that didn’t include his lips.

His laugh was gravelly and tired and breathy. But it was filled with relief and tenderness all the same.

“Thank fucking god,” Sebastian murmured.

Her hands instinctively found their way to his hair, fingers tangling into the strands of his. She revelled in the texture of him. In her daydreams and her undisclosed fantasies, she had always wondered what it would feel like. Would he be as gentle as his charms implied? Or was he as abrasive as his words could be?

But despite his devouring intensity, despite how ardently he consumed her — everything about Sebastian was soft. His lips were soft. His body was soft. His hands were soft.

She leaned in to kiss him again, but he pulled back. Which immensely disappointed her. And she wasn’t shy to let it show on her face.

"Be careful. You're still recovering." He managed to get out, but it was weak.

Yes, that was true. It was very lovely and sensible of him to say.

But frankly, she couldn't give two fucks.

"I wouldn't mind dying today," she replied breathlessly, her voice laced heavily with longing.

He groaned into the edge of her mouth, "Way too soon."

She smiled wryly. Was it wicked of her to take delight in how protective he was being?

Silence hung in the air.

"Please just... just be careful next time?" he said, his voice wavering slightly.

She looked into his eyes, "I will."

With a gentle squeeze of his hand, she hoped that he knew that she truly meant it. That by definition, her feelings for him meant that her assurance was very much real. Because if not with words, she needed him to know through this gesture that she too looked for him in every inch of this castle. That she too would drop everything at his beck and call.

He squeezed her hand back in return.

Message understood?

“And as much as I’d love to keep kissing you," he whispered with a playful glint in his eye, "I would hate for Nurse Blainey to shun me from the infirmary for so shamelessly accosting one of her patients."

A soft chuckle escaped her lips, the tension easing between them. "You're right. We wouldn't want that," she replied, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

—

A/N: This is deffo a little different from the normal soft/simpy Seb that I write. I tried to go for overly flirtatious and wildly charming Seb and a pining MC this time to shake things up!! I still think they're cuties.

Gosh, I hope you guys liked it!! I'M STILL WORKING ON OTHER REQUESTS and of course my bb A Knowing Look! They will be taking a while but I promise I will be putting my heart and soul into them.

xoxo gruff

#sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow imagines #sebastian sallow fic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy #requests

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twilightnesss · 2 months

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⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ love and basketball

pairing: kate martin x nyl!female oc

summary: simone camon & kate martin are “rivals” per say. they both are captains on their individual basketball teams and always went against each other in every way. one week, a few teams had to stay at a hotel for a basketball retreat, helping the youth. unfortunately kate and simone had accidentally got their rooms conjoined. what will happen this week? love? lust? friendship? or hatred?

warnings: none.

simone camon and kate martin, two fierce competitors, found themselves in an unexpected situation. as basketball captains, their passion and determination were well known, especially when they faced each other on the court. the idea of them sharing a hotel room during a basketball retreat seemed like a recipe for disaster.

kate was the first to enter the room, and she immediately claimed the larger bed, throwing her bag onto the soft mattress. simone, who followed closely behind, rolled her eyes at this obvious power move. "guess i'll take the sofa bed then," she said with a hint of sarcasm. kate didn't seem to care, already unpacking her things and making herself at home.

the room was indeed spacious, with two queen-size beds separated by a thin wall and a large window that offered a breathtaking view of the mountain range. the rest of the team would be staying in the rooms down the hall, leaving simone and kate to this unexpected slumber party.

simone's competitive nature took over as she viewed this week as an opportunity to outshine kate in yet another arena. she efficiently changed into her pajamas, determined to be comfortable for the night. kate, on the other hand, took her time, even taking a bubble bath before getting into bed. the casual act annoyed simone, who saw it as a further attempt to assert dominance.

as the evening progressed, the hotel's peaceful atmosphere settled over the room. kate, who was casually scrolling through her instagram feed, noticed simone's restless tossing and turning on the uncomfortable sofa bed. simone, seething with frustration, decided to exact her revenge by turning on the television, the sound piercing the quiet space. kate snapped out of her trance and glared at simone, who simply shrugged in response.

the next morning, both captains woke up early, each with their own agenda. simone, determined to be the better sport, offered an olive branch. "good morning, kate. ready for today's practices?" she asked, already lacing up her sneakers. kate, still groggy from her interrupted sleep, grunted in response, but the tension between them softened a little.

as the days passed, a strange companionship began to develop between them. they realized that, beyond their competitive natures, they had quite a lot in common. both were dedicated to the sport, driven by their passion for basketball and the desire to mentor the younger players. their conversations, initially tense and competitive, evolved into casual discussions about strategy and leadership.

one evening, after a particularly intense practice session, simone and kate found themselves alone in the hotel's lobby, everyone else having gone out for dinner. kate suggested they order room service and eat in their pajamas, a proposition that simone, to her surprise, found quite appealing.

as they tucked into their meal, the atmosphere felt strangely intimate, like a pair of old friends catching up. they spoke about their lives, their dreams, and even shared a few humorous stories about their teammates. simone admitted that she admired Kate's determination, while kate confessed that she respected simone's skill and leadership.

it was during this strange and unexpected friendship that kate and simone found themselves leaning towards each other, drawn by an unspoken understanding and a shared love of the sport. they spent the week bonding in their little hotel room, and on the last night, they even shared a heartfelt hug, thanking each other for the unexpected friendship.

when the camp concluded and it was time to leave, both women felt a strange sense of loss. they had gone from rivals to close friends over the course of just a few days. they said their goodbyes with a promise to stay in touch, each knowing that their competitive spirits would reignite the next time they faced each other on the court.

as they parted ways, both simone and kate knew that their relationship would never be the same, and they looked forward to their next encounter, a court clash that would surely ignite their newly kindled friendship.

a/n: i tried a new method of writing with almost no dialogue.. lmk what you think about it!! i have about 3 other short stories like this in my drafts so stay tuned! love , lana

#kate martin #kate martin x reader #wnba #womens basketball #wlw #short story #basketball #wlw love #las vegas aces #wbb x reader #kate martin fic #kate martin fanfic #kate martin x oc #wlw ns/fw

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perfectsunlight · 2 months

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14 ⸺ JISOO

warnings: emotional cheating, closeted affection, jealousy, rejection

word count: 2.4k

part of the series: LOGICAL

kim jisoo knew who she was at an early age. the kims practically gave her everything on a silver platter, allowing her to have whatever she desired, whenever she wanted. being an only child, she grew up in a world where elegance and grace were as natural as breathing. her parents, prominent figures in business and law, ensured she had the best education, the finest clothes, and exposure to high society from the moment she could walk.

from the time they first met in 5th grade, chaeyoung was mesmerized by jisoo.

even as children, jisoo exuded a rare kind of perfection—graceful, polite, and effortlessly charming. chaeyoung, too, came from wealth, her family owning a chain of prestigious hotels known for their opulence and impeccable service. yet, despite their similar backgrounds, chaeyoung felt as if jisoo was a princess from another planet.

“i like your headband,” chaeyoung timidly complimented as she looked at jisoo who was standing beside her. it was after school and the two girls were waiting for their drivers to pick them up. the raven haired girl slowly turned with a smile.

jisoo’s smile was warm, but her reply was as brief as ever. “thanks,” she said softly, her eyes flickering with a hint of curiosity as she took in chaeyoung’s earnest expression.

embarrassed by her own audacity, the young girl cast her gaze downward, fiddling with the straps of her backpack. chaeyoung had summoned all her courage to speak to jisoo, but now that she had, she didn’t know what more to say. still, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the delicate features of the girl beside her—the way the sunlight caught in jisoo’s dark hair, the slight breeze that played with the edges of her school uniform.

out of the corner of her eye, chaeyoung saw jisoo reach up and touch her headband self-consciously. it was a simple accessory, yet it looked effortlessly stylish on jisoo, complementing her perfectly.

“here,” jisoo said suddenly, surprising the other girl. she gently slid the headband off her own head and offered it to chaeyoung. “you can have it. it suits you.”

chaeyoung’s heart fluttered with a mixture of gratitude and nervousness. she hesitated for a moment, then carefully accepted the headband from jisoo’s outstretched hand. “thank you,” she murmured, her cheeks flushing pink with pleasure.

jisoo nodded in response, her smile widening just a fraction before she glanced down the street where her chauffeur-driven car was pulling up. “i have to go,” she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of regret. with a small wave, she turned and walked towards the waiting car.

chaeyoung watched jisoo’s retreating figure, clutching the headband in her hand as if it were a precious gift.

in high school, chaeyoung and jisoo continued to move in similar circles, their paths intersecting in classrooms, at school events, and occasionally in the corridors between classes. despite being in different social circles—jisoo effortlessly popular and chaeyoung finding her niche among athletes—they still often spoke with each other.

park chaeyoung had grown into her own during high school. she was no longer the shy girl who could barely muster a compliment; she had become a confident and accomplished volleyball player, known for her tenacity on the court and her warmth off of it. her classmates admired her athletic prowess and her easy going nature, but the blonde remained focused on her studies and sports, always trying to excel in both realms.

jisoo, on the other hand, continued to excel in academics and extracurricular activities with an effortless grace that seemed to defy the usual high school dramas. she was involved in student government, led various school initiatives, and was often seen at social events surrounded by friends and admirers.

despite her outward success, jisoo remained somewhat reserved, her interactions with others polite but distant.

it was during their sophomore year that chaeyoung began to realize her feelings for jisoo were deeper than mere admiration. she found herself lingering in hallways just to catch a glimpse of jisoo passing by, or scrolling through her parent’s socials to see glimpses of her in their posts.

her heart raced whenever jisoo smiled at her or spoke to her in passing, and chaeyoung would replay those brief moments in her mind, searching for hidden meanings in jisoo’s words and gestures.

it was also around this time that chaeyoung started to notice her attraction towards girls in general.

she had always felt a sense of closeness with her female friends, but now there was a newfound awareness—a fluttering in her stomach when she saw certain girls, a quickening of her pulse when they brushed against each other during practice or shared a laugh over lunch.

but there was also something else that she soon quickly discovered about her feelings.

chaeyoung had found out jisoo was attending one of her volleyball games. it was the most anticipated game of the season so far, and the blonde was eager to not only win, but to impress jisoo with her skills on the court. as the game progressed, the athlete couldn't help but steal glances at her crush in the stands. she spotted her amidst the crowd, looking as effortlessly elegant as ever, her eyes focused intently on the game.

with each spike and serve, chaeyoung poured her heart into the game, fueled by a desire to impress jisoo. she felt a surge of adrenaline every time she scored a point, her determination driving her team towards victory.

after a particularly intense rally that ended in a spectacular kill from chaeyoung, she glanced up at the stands, catching jisoo’s eye. to her surprise and delight, jisoo smiled—a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached her eyes and made chaeyoung’s heart skip a beat.

the game ended in a resounding victory for their own team, and the blonde was engulfed in hugs and congratulations from her teammates. as she made her way through the crowd, she saw kim jisoo standing near the exit. her heart raced with a mix of excitement and nervousness as she approached.

but her footsteps slowly came to a halt when she saw the group of people surrounding the girl she liked.

the crowd of fans and players started to gather more, congratulating the athlete and vying for jisoo's attention. amid the chaos, a guy from the opposing team’s school walked up to jisoo, striking up a conversation. chaeyoung's heart sank as she saw the boy laugh at something jisoo said, placing a hand on her arm in a gesture that felt far too close for the blonde’s liking.

a pang of jealousy hit the volleyball player hard. she clenched her fists, trying to suppress the emotions swirling inside her. without another word, she clenched her sports bag and turned and walked past jisoo, her steps quickening as she sought to escape the scene that was causing her so much pain.

jisoo noticed chaeyoung's sudden departure and quickly excused herself from the conversation. she followed the blonde, weaving through the bustling crowd until she found her sitting alone in a quiet hallway near the fire escape, her head resting against the cool wall, eyes closed.

“chaeyoung?”

the mentioned girl opened her eyes, her expression a mix of surprise and sadness. “oh,” she replied softly, not meeting jisoo's gaze. “hi.”

“you look upset,” jisoo said, concern evident in her tone. “everything okay?”

“i just needed some air," the blonde muttered, her voice barely above a whisper as she leaned her chin against her knees.

without another word, the school’s sweetheart took a seat next to her. chaeyoung felt her stomach doing flips at the smell of jisoo’s signature perfume filling her senses. the silence between them was heavy, filled with unspoken emotions and lingering tension. chaeyoung's mind raced, unsure of how to express the storm of feelings inside her. she wanted to tell jisoo everything, to spill her heart out, but the words seemed stuck in her throat.

“i only came to see you play,” jisoo said softly, her words simple but filled with sincerity. it tore the athlete away and out of her own thoughts, causing her breath to hitch and her heartbeat to quicken.

“wait, really?”

the kim heiress nodded, a small, reassuring smile playing on her lips. she could see the confusion written all over the other girl's face. “of course. i wanted to see you play.”

the blonde felt herself biting her lower lip, the overwhelming emotion too much to contain. she wanted to say something, to tell jisoo how much those words meant to her, but before she could, jisoo leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to her cheek.

the kiss was soft and fleeting, but it sent a jolt of warmth through chaeyoung's entire being. as jisoo pulled back, she gave chaeyoung's hand one last gentle squeeze before standing up.

“good job today.” jisoo said quietly, her smile lingering before she turned and walked away, leaving chaeyoung alone in the hallway.

they never dated at all, jisoo couldn’t afford tainting her image at all. she became increasingly absorbed in her responsibilities and expectations. the pressures of her family legacy left little room for personal matters, and any potential relationship between her and chaeyoung remained unspoken and unexplored.

however, the two remained extremely close. chaeyoung would often sleepover at jisoo’s house, where the two would occasionally kiss and hold hands secretly while her parents were away. sometimes, they’d even go out together on dates.

well, jisoo never called them dates, but the chaeyoung always felt like they were. it was nice, it was intimate, and it was everything the blonde could ever want. but all of that changed once jisoo got into ygu’s renowned criminal justice program.

determined to keep jisoo close, she made a decision that would shape her future.

she tried out for ygu's volleyball team, pouring all her energy and skill into making the cut. the thought of attending the same university as jisoo, of keeping those precious memories alive, fueled her every move on the court.

when she received her acceptance letter and learned she had made the team, the blonde felt a mixture of excitement and anxiety. she was thrilled to be at ygu, to be near jisoo, but she also knew that jisoo's life had become increasingly focused on her future place in the kim family business.

despite the changes, chaeyoung clung to the hope that their bond would remain strong. she often sought out jisoo on campus, relishing their conversations and the brief moments of closeness they shared.

however, it was clear that jisoo's feelings had shifted, her attention consumed by her demanding studies and ambitious career plans.

chaeyoung sat at a table, her books spread out before her, but her attention was focused on jisoo, who sat across from her, engrossed in her studies. despite her own assignments, she found herself captivated by the sight of jisoo's determined expression, her brow furrowed in concentration as she diligently worked through her notes.

the volleyball player couldn't help but admire jisoo's dedication and intelligence. she had always been drawn to jisoo's strength and ambition for years now, but now, at university, those qualities seemed even more pronounced. the blonde watched jisoo for what felt like hours, the world around her fading into the background.

“chaeyoung?” jisoo's voice broke through her reverie. the mentioned girl blinked, snapping out of her trance.

“hmm?”

dark irises looked up from her notes, a small smile playing on jisoo’s lips. “you've been staring at me for the past fifteen minutes. everything okay?”

chaeyoung felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. she hated how obvious she was sometimes.

“sorry, i was just thinking.”

jisoo chuckled softly as she thumbed through a few pages of her notes, still stealing a few glances at the girl in front of her.

“about?”

taking a deep breath, chaeyoung decided it was now or never. she leaned forward slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “jisoo, i still have feelings for you.”

jisoo's smile faltered, her expression turning serious. she quickly glanced around the library, ensuring they weren't being overheard, before focusing back on chaeyoung. “chaeyoung, we've talked about this–”

“i know, i know.” the athlete quickly responded, putting her hands up in defense, “but i can’t help how i feel. jisoo, i still like you. you’re always on my mind.”

the heiress sighed, her eyes softening with sympathy. “look, i care about you a lot. you’re my best friends, and i don’t want to lose that. but my priorities have changed. my family expects so much from me, and i need to focus on my studies and my future career.”

the athlete nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of her own emotions. all she could do was sit there and think to herself: i’d wait forever for you, kim jisoo. even if it means just being your friend now, i’d wait until you’re ready.

chaeyoung kept her word, but she was growing quite discouraged with the lack of affection from jisoo. she wanted jisoo to be obsessed with her, just like how she was with her. everything in the athlete’s mind was full of jisoo, even in the simplest things.

but then there was lisa.

lalisa, with her infectious energy and unwavering attention, became a bright spot in chaeyoung's life. despite having a girlfriend, lisa made no secret of her affection for chaeyoung, often texting her late at night, sharing inside jokes, and spending every available moment with her. lisa didn’t see it as cheating—she saw it as a deep friendship.

chaeyoung, on the other hand, reveled in the attention. she loved how lisa was obsessed with her, how she made her feel special and important. it was something she desperately craved from jisoo but rarely received.

“do you ever think about what we’re doing?” chaeyoung asked suddenly, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “i mean, you’ve got a girlfriend and all.”

lisa shrugged, her smile never wavering. she nudged the blonde gently, “we’re just close friends, right? i don’t see anything wrong with that,” the thai girl took a sip of her water before continuing to speak.

“besides, you make me happy, chaeyoung.”

chaeyoung's heart fluttered at lisa’s words. she loved the attention, the way lisa’s eyes lit up when she saw her, the way she made her feel special. but deep down, her heart still ached for jisoo, the girl who held her heart captive for so long.

“yeah, i guess you’re right,” chaeyoung replied, trying to push aside the lingering guilt. she didn’t care if it was selfish, she was going to do what made her happy. and right now, she could have her happiness, even if it came at the expense of someone else's.

TAGLIST ⸺ ✭ @silantryoo @rosiehrs @niniwhiskers @cwpiqwon @jisooftme @1luvkarina @scarfac3 @santasbitch @lisas-earlobe @wallfl9wer @aerihiltonn @unforgivenangel @uzumakioden @skydreamed @haerinfangs @la-douleur-ne-finit-jamais @haerinkisser @giginings @lilsvx @milanlaia @pandafuriosa60 @wifey-badalee @slowlyturninggay291 @dreamingst99 @7daysronnie

CLOSED.

#smau #kpop smau #blackpink #blackpink smau #lisa x reader #lisa manobal #blackpink x reader #lisa manobal x reader #kpop angst #wlw #angst #blackpink angst #original work #logical #perfectsunlight

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