#anon i can’t lie you really made me think

[peechglaze]

I’m loving your takes on tlou show. I think the best way to enjoy the show as a game fan is to separate the two as “alternate universes” and I’m personally loving the show so far. I’ve seen a lot of discussion that ellie is not “angry enough” or lacks urgency in seattle. watching the show we need to consider that joel died 3 months ago. in the game ellie had one week before she left for seattle and the emotions were RAW. in the show ellie was stuck in a hospital severely injured. she had time to grieve joel on a surface level of “I miss him” and stew in her hatred towards abby, but its also clear that she has not processed the trauma at all. it seems to me like shes trying to completely avoid the reality of what happened. I’m really liking the psychological angle they’re going with in the series. shes overcompensating with dina trying to make it seem like everythings okay and supressing her true emotions completely. we only see it bubble up sometimes (guitar scene) but then she pushes it back down again. finding nora has opened the floodgates and made everything come to the fore. I think episode 6 is really going to unlock this side of her that has been laying dormant. remembering what was taken cruelly from her and not being able to fully mend her relationship with joel before he died. she’s wanted abby dead this whole time, but now she’s really starting a downward spiral she can’t come back from. and I’m excited to see it. sorry for the long message!

You read my mind, anon!! 🫶

I think this is one of the only ways as a game fan to truly enjoy it.

Is it a perfect, true tlou adaptation? Not at all. Do I wish it was? Sometimes! But it's been so much fun to see it all unfold and notice what little changes to a characters motivations, their backstory, and the environment around them does to the narrative.

Ellie's arc this season has been really interesting to me for the exact reasons you've said, and I will never truly understand the 'Ellie isn't angry enough' arguments.

Like you've said, in the game she leaves as soon as possible. She is still bruised and battered from the assault. The flowers on Joel's porch haven't had a chance to wilt, and the dirt on his grave is freshly turned. She can't stop thinking about what happened for even a second, and when she does it makes her feel sick with guilt.

In the show, Ellie has had three months to sit with it-- literally. She's been in hospital this whole time with nothing to do but think about that day, so while she's still angry and grieving, it's not an open wound. It's an ugly scar that is ready to tear back open again after enough strain.

She also has no leads. She didn't see the WLF patch, she didn't hear any names or where they were from. The only other person who was there, Dina, never mentioned anything she knew until Ellie was out of the hospital. So while I do think that Ellie might have still gone down Abby's path and tried to find as much info as she could-- when she was in the hospital, she would have had to come to terms with the fact that Joel was dead and she had nothing on the people who did it.

Not only did she have time to sit there in it, to think about what happened, but she was also forced to try and talk about it out loud with a therapist at least a handful of times.

Ellie learned a lot of things from Joel, and talking openly about how you feel is something that he quickly snubbed out. She was already keeping things close to her chest, but Joel absolutely did not help-- especially when it came to openly grieving.

Even if that wasn't the case, I doubt she'd be willing to open up so quickly about such a traumatising moment. So she does the thing she has a habit of doing which is deflect, lie, and shove it down. But she's already done that with so many other things that she doesn't have much room left-- and this, Joel's death, is huge.

So yeah, Ellie has moments in Seattle where she's focused on Dina. She's excited to be a parent, to live a life with her girlfriend that she's probably thought about so many times before but never let herself consider a possibility. Because she's had enough time to trick herself into thinking that she can give that to herself. She's spent enough time telling people that she's fine, that it's sad and she's upset but she's okay now that she believes it too.

But she's not. And really, she knows this. Just like how Joel tricked himself into thinking that he did nothing wrong, but deep down he knew what he did. Like father like daughter.

I also don't see enough people bring up the fact that HBO!Ellie has been angry right from the very start. She's had this anger simmering in her since Riley died, the moment that she realised that for some reason she was different and that life would treat her unfairly.

She's a lot more resentful of her immunity than she is in the game. We see this especially when she carves the skin open on that one infected that's trapped under the rubble, and she spends a good long while looking at the mycellium underneath. She stares at it so blankly, then in a fit of anger she stabs the infected clean through its skull and kills it.

She mentions to Dina while trying to convince her that she is immune how she wishes she wouldn't wake up and still be her. You can easily read this as her wanting to be 'normal', or a hint to her suicidal thoughts, but no matter what it comes back to her and being immune and the survivors guilt that comes with that.

She's been living with this emotion inside of her for a long time, so I think it's fair to say that it contributes to her demeanor now. She's used to feeling like this, but now that she's given an outlet in Nora, a 'perfect' situation where she can finally feel the full effect of everything she's been bottling up for three months-- for 5 years?

That's where we get game!Ellie's anger seeping through.

Sorry that my message was too long!! I could talk about these games and show for hours (obviously LMAO) <3 Thank you for talking with me!!!

[sil-te-plait-tue-moi]

i wonder if u agree, but sometimes when i read old man rust x younger oc, it's weird to me picturing somebody in early/mid twenties bc, realistically, that would make the oc around his daughter's age, and i don't think rust can go for that. i say that as somebody who's 23, so i don't mean to exclude younger women or whatever. anyway, that's why i really like your oc bc she seems like an actual match for rust and not bc of age, but bc she's just the type of person i can see him falling for, i guess? like directly canonically in the series, so yeah, thank you for your work!!! but that got me wondering: when u started to write, did you have somebody in mind already and thought of how that sort of oc will work with rust, or did u ask urself what sort of person compliments rust best? sorry if this is too much trouble.

NOT TOO MUCH TROUBLE i think this is acc a super interesting ask!

my opinions below the cut…

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

RIGHT so i wanna preface by saying EVERY SINGLE rust oc story ive read so far has meat to it, like the authors know their shit and they should get their due snaps and kudos

i think i read younger ofcs with like a pinch of salt in the sense that i know it’s a bit crazy — btw this is coming from someone who had a “relationship” with a much older man at the ripe age of 16 — but i think it’s still good to read

things we experience can be ugly and uncomfortable but it’s still real and a part of me appreciates like keeping it real 💀 this is going to sound a little femcel of me but let’s be honest, sex is about power and the dynamics of that power give intricacies to stories that make them interesting! rust is a man (😔) and have you ever seen that one study of like ages of women men find most attractive and it’s a consistent 20 even as men get to like 70

yeah

keeping it uncomfortably real but real nonetheless

true detective is southern gothic and what i love about southern gothic is that it doesn’t shy away from touching on the less palatable corners of human existence/nature/WHATever. do i see why a daughter woman child thing as a love interest to a middle aged man with a dead baby is off-putting? YES. do i still read things along those lines because it’s interesting? ALSO YES. because more often than not creators are self-aware and explore these topics with nuance, which i respect massively

now onto like the sort of second part of you ask, beautiful anon…

when writing The Idler Wheel, idk if i was thinking as deeply when creating an oc as i was fixated on the weirdness of rust and ocs like yearning 😭? for each other, and the fact that he felt anything at all was a massive woaaaahhh for them both. the way we experience / act on desire (not even sexual just any kind but actually maybe especially sexual) says so much about a person and i guess that’s the single point from which i branched out, and every other aspect of her came later

the reason she/oc is not like twenty is because, similar to what you said, i cannot picture 1995–2002 (around that time) rust with a youngYOUNGGGG woman becaaaause holy shit i think he’d just die, like out of sadness or hurt, i think he wouldn’t be able to look at her at all 💀

old dog rust on the other hand does not give a shit about doing what’s “right” imo if that makes sense, like he’s who he is and he feels what he feels and i think this version of rust would be much more receptive to a younger woman, even if it’s “wrong” because he literally just doesn’t care anymore

i think the only reason The Idler Wheel girl was able to sneak her way in around that time is because she’s grown and a part of his workplace and therefore she should be “safe”, no more than any of his coworkers. so he lets her in his space and he lets her bring him coffee and he lets her do him favours because she’s just like the others and he just has to tolerate her, just has to see her

but of course she’s not like his coworkers and he can’t place why he wants her so bad, only that he does, which is bad because she should be mundane and she should be nothing and yet unfortunately he wants to be her dog

does this answer your q or did i go off on a tangent

i love you anon 💕💕💕💕

[rafesangelita]

reader wrapping herself up like a little present and rafe unwrapping her <3

warnings: fluff, suggestive ending

a/n: i feel like i’ve seen this be a trend before on tiktok?? idk but this req is so cute <33 ty anon!

you don’t know why your boyfriend insisted on you never getting anything for him when it came to special occasions like his birthday or christmas. of course, you never listened to him when it came down to it, always surprising him with a new watch or something you know he’ll never buy for himself like a new gadget he’s been talking about, or god forbid some actual skincare. you two had been discussing who’s house both of you will be at for the holidays when you asked him what he wanted for christmas this year.

“okay, so i’m thinking we go to your mom’s house for thanksgiving because rose can’t cook to save her life, and then we could go to tanneyhill for christmas, how does that sound?” you laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you rested your chin in the curve of his neck. “that’s not a bad idea. oh! i could tell my mom to make the ham just the way you like it..” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, making him hum. “oh my god, with her homemade glaze?” he turned in his chair, pulling you on top of his lap as you nodded.

“mhmm.” rafe smiled down at you as stroked the side of his face. “speaking of christmas though..” you trailed off, “why don’t you ever tell me what you want!” rafe sighed, resting a hand on your thigh as you pouted up at him. “i love giving you gifts and you never want any.” it was ironic, really. girlfriend whose love language was gift giving, and boyfriend who had a hard time accepting anything.. a match made in retail hell. “it’s not that i don’t want it, babe, i just prefer buying you gifts instead.” you shook your head, a giggle falling from your lips.

“you buy me ‘gifts’ year round though, ray.” rafe looked at you for a moment. “you really want to gift me something?” he asked. you nodded frantically, feeling a sense of relief now that you got through to him, or so you thought. “just be waiting for me when i come back home,” he winked, “that’s my gift.” despite it not being the words you wanted to hear, you’d never turn him down. letting out a deep sigh, you pressed a kiss to his lips. “fine.” rafe pulled you back down on his lap before you could walk away.

“i mean it. you’re the only thing i want.” he whispered against your skin, a shiver running down your spine when you felt his hand on the small of your back. “well, i guess you better hurry up and do what you have to do with your dad before i decide not to give you anything at all.” rafe watched you get up, your hips swaying as you made your way upstairs. while he was off working out some business, you sat on your shared bed, trying to think of what lingerie you should surprise him with.

eyes skimming past the wrapping paper in the corner of the room, it was as if a light bulb went off in your head. if rafe said you were the only gift he wanted, surely you’d have him unwrap you like one.. right? before you could get any second thoughts, you quickly undressed and got to wrapping the paper around the curves of your body. you couldn’t lie, you felt just a little bit ridiculous putting a bow in your hair while you practically crinkled with every step you took. waiting for rafe to walk through the door was easier said than done.

you paced around your room, increasingly feeling dumb as you walked around in circles. “this is silly..” you muttered, about to rip the paper yourself before you heard the door shut downstairs. “i hope you’re ready!” you panicked slightly, not knowing what to do with your hands before clasping them behind your back. rafe walked in, his eyes landing on your awkward little getup before a smile took over his lips. “what’s this?” he laughed, taking a seat at the edge of the bed before pulling you close to him.

you stood between his thighs, resting your hands on top of his shoulders. “unwrap me.” rafe took his bottom lip between his teeth, stroking the exposed skin of your hips. “you don’t happen to be naked, do you?” he pressed a kiss to your navel, his large palms sliding down the backs of your thighs. you shivered at his words, shrugging coyly. “you’ll just have to find out..” rafe stood up, towering over you as he slowly tore the thin sheet of paper, revealing your bare form underneath. “oh, this is great, baby.” he stroked your skin.

rafe guided you two over to the full body mirror in the corner of your room, your head rolling back against his chest when he cupped your aching cunt. “best gift ever.”

[fangswbenefits]

Discovery

Summary: Miguel tries to fix the damage of his obsession for you, only to discover a secret you’ve been keeping that will change everything…

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

Word count: 3k

18+. Miguel POV. Obsessed and jealous Miguel. Inexperienced/In*ocent/V*rgin reader. Mast*rbation. Voye*rism (have to thank this anon).

Part 1 (if you’re just starting out) - Previous Part

Miguel O’Hara took pride in being able to keep his emotions at check.

For the most part, at least.

But when it came to you, he constantly found his reason at war with his feelings.

The way you were eyeing him expectantly, made his stomach flip.

“Is there something wrong?”

Many things.

For once, he didn’t want to lie to you. However, he dreaded what might happen in case he told you the truth.

Shaking his head, he took your pad in his hands, and glanced over at his watch.

100%

He wanted to just open the file and finally know who this Tom individual was, but he could see a faint frown settle on your face.

“Why can’t I have access to the settings?” you asked, coming to stand by his side to glare at the lit up screen.

He really didn’t want to lie.

“I needed to adjust the prototype first, before giving you full access,” he managed to say.

Great, Miguel.

Your eyes moved to glare at him. “You could have informed me of that.”

He could only nod, he tapped and scrolled through the interface, overriding the block he had placed on it a couple of days ago.

You didn’t seem upset in the slightest. If anything, it you seemed… tired? Sleepy?

“It’s done,” Miguel said, handing the pad back to you. “The interference was probably a mic, by the way.”

As you fought back a yawn, your face twisted into confusion. “A mic?”

Miguel was trying to play it casually, hoping that it would be enough to deflect this issue altogether.

But you… you were not easily detracted.

“Why is there a mic in my suit?”

His heart rate had nearly doubled, and he felt his sweat grow cold as your gaze intensified.

Then, he saw you straighten up as if hit by a sudden realisation.

“You… don’t trust me?” your voice was but a whisper and you started backing away from him. “You’re spying on me?”

Somehow, the conclusion you had drawn was almost as appalling as the truth.

“No! That is not why.”

“Then why?”

Miguel pressed his lips together, and you took his silence as an answer.

“Oh… you really don’t trust me, do you?” you went on, tears welling in your eyes. “I mean… Jessica did tell me you were against me joining Spider Society… I just… thought she wasn’t being serious…”

Miguel stepped closer, feeling a surge of indignation. “That was before I realised your potential!”

You blinked your tears away angrily. “You’re not even denying it.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “I had my doubts at first, yes. Your inexperience, for example. But Jess quickly convinced me to take you in,” he continued, knowing that he sounded desperate at this point. “You are a very talented spider, and I realised that nearly right away.”

Then your eyes widened all of a sudden as if you had just realised something daunting.

Miguel felt his stomach flip, already anticipating more something much worse.

“Oh… oh… you — you sent Jessica to my dimension because of Tom…” you said, visibly shaken. “He’s subject A. You… you… woah!”

Miguel felt control slip through his fingers with each accusation you threw at him.

There was no point denying it, and he didn’t want to lie to you. If anything, he only sought to do damage control.

But your usual calm and sweet demeanor had long vanished.

“Who do you think Tom is?” you said between gritted teeth, clenching your fists at your sides. “Some… some secret weapon against Spider Society? Is that it?”

It was evident from your reaction that he clearly wasn’t that.

“Listen, I d-”

But you immediately cut him off, tears streaking down your face. “You want to know who he really is? Do you?”

In truth, he did. However, not at the expense of your emotional stability. Not like this. Everything was going sideways and he felt petrified.

“You don’t have to.”

“I’ll tell you!” you spat, hurt swelling in your voice. “Three days after I got bitten by that spider, I was struggling to get the hang of all the changes.” You began pacing nervously around the room, no longer looking at him. “I was heading toward a robbery site and… Tom was there… the criminals had dynamite and were threatening to blow up the building,” your voice cracked momentarily and you took a deep breath before continuing. “In an effort to get him out of there, I shot my web at his chest, but lost control and balance, and sent him flying across the street as the explosives went off…”

Miguel could only stare from a distance, feeling the frustration in your words.

You halted and glared at him, lips quivering and more tears spilling. “Tom broke his arm and suffered a serious concussion. Because of me.”

He opened his mouth to offer words of comfort, but decided not to interrupt.

“I grew up with Tom. He is — was my best friend,” you sniffled, lowering you gaze. “I even had feelings for him at one point, which was ridiculous… he was too good for me, anyway.”

Miguel took a few steps in your direction, wanting to convince you otherwise, but you immediately retreated away from him.

“Thankfully, he managed to fully recover. No one found out it had been me who caused it in the first place… everyone just assumed it happened because of the explosion…” you mumbled, before crossing your arms and hugging yourself, showing him you had done this multiple times before in search for comfort. “And I was a coward… I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth… so I removed myself from his life.”

A tense silence followed.

Nothing could have prepared Miguel for this revelation, and he couldn’t help but to feel a wave of sympathy for you wash down on him.

You then eyed him. “I don’t want your pity. I deserve this. I was never a decent spider-woman and-”

He quickly stopped you. “That is absolutely not true and you are not a coward.”

“Oh, but I am. When Jessica approached me with the offer to join you, I didn’t even think twice,” you confessed. “I’d do anything to spend as much time away from my dimension as possible.”

“You still perform your duties, as far as I know,” he pointed out rationally.

You let out a pained groan. “Because I have to! I’d much rather stay in the lab, piecing things together and be useful in other ways.”

“You could have told me.”

This time, you frowned and Miguel realised such expression didn’t suit you. At all.

“I didn’t want to. I didn’t have to. This is something I’m ashamed of.” You then pointed at his watch. “Your file won’t tell you any of this, and I really wish you hadn’t gotten involved, because this was my story to tell.”

Your words pierced through him like sharp knives, and he realised he had not only gone too far, but had also managed to hurt you in the process.

“If there is anyone here who understands what you are going through, it’s me,” he began carefully. “I know how it feels to want to do the right thing, only for the consequences to be disastrous.”

He watched your face soften ever so slightly, and you didn’t flinch away from him when he came to stand right in front of you.

“I’m really sorry that I overstepped the line,” he said softly. “I really care about you. That is the reason why I had the mic in your suit and why Jessica went looking for Tom.”

A half-truth, he figured. He couldn’t flat out say the actual reason. How would he even explain that he was obsessed with you? How could that justify any of this?

Simply put, it couldn’t.

And you would resent him.

So, he settled for a half-truth. He did care about you. Immensely. More than he could possibly reason with. But he just couldn’t have you know how much he wanted you to be with him to the point of extreme obsession.

Especially not after discovering this secret of yours.

He had to win you over.

“There is no one who can understand how hou feel better than me,” he whispered, cradling your face in his hands, tilting it enough to have your eyes meet his.

“But… you’re the Miguel O’Hara… you’re so… ” your voiced trailed off.

“Spider Society exists because of my mistake. Many people died at my hands, even if it was unintentional,” said with a sigh. “That is a burden I’ll carry forever with me. What you see here came at a price.”

You swallowed.

“But you don’t have to go through this.”

“How so?”

He caressed your cheeks with his thumbs. “You get a chance set things straight. Tom is still alive. I don’t get to have that.”

He would never have Gabriella back. Ever. That was the ultimate price he had to pay.

Your gaze dropped and he saw a couple of tears streaming down your face. “It’s not that simple.”

“It’s not, but it’s still an open door. A choice you have.”

He felt your hands grip his wrists for support, as silence took over you.

“I just wish you’d told me,” he whispered, closing his eyes and planting a kiss to your forehead. “I would have been here for you sooner.”

The effect of his words coupled with the gesture were enough to have you break into a sob, tears streaming down your cheeks, as Miguel held your face with both hands.

This was painful to witness.

He knew all too well how it felt to feel powerless and thinking that you’ve run out of options.

He knew you now. He understood you. Better than anyone ever could.

“I’m… s-sorry…” you mumbled, trying to keep yourself from crying. “You’re… getting all w-wet…”

Miguel couldn’t help but to smile endearingly at your concern, as your tears began to roll down his hands.

“Do not apologise,” he said firmly. “You can cry. I’m here for you.”

Nodding, you opened your eyes again and tilted your had back to stare at him.

“Please s-stay…” you said in between sobs, your hands gripping him tightly. “Please…”

You were killing him.

Little by little.

Miguel would give you everything.

He nodded and you stepped back and let go of him, running the back of your hands across your cheeks to dry them.

Then you went to sit on your couch, removing the clutter of wires and boxes that were in the way.

Miguel spotted a blanket nearby and came to sit by your side, draping it over your shoulders.

You leaned against the backrest, and he followed suit, feeling your head drop to his shoulder.

“Please remove the mic… and delete that file…” you mumbled.

“I will.”

He swung his arm across your from you, to pull you closer to him.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, and Miguel closed his eyes, relieved that he had managed to somehow control the damage he had caused. Unfortunately, it had come at the expense of you having to open up to him, and he felt guilty for that…

He knew he had to prove himself to you, and was grateful that you hadn’t chosen to shut him out completely.

“Somehow… this was sort of cathartic?” your voice was suddenly heard.

Miguel squeezed your arm tenderly.

“I had… never told this to anyone…”

Guilt hit him at once. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be… I think I needed to let it out,” you mused against him.

He couldn’t help but to feel an intense wave of compassion for you. There was no way around it: Miguel was in too deep when it came to you. Everything about you pulled him in and gripped him.

You would always be his sweet girl.

His devotion was yours.

Just yours.

“Hey, Miguel?”

He felt you shift beside him and he looked down to meet your sleepy eyes. “Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Your words didn’t register at first, and he thought he had misheard you.

“What?”

You slipped your feet under you, before leaning slowly into him, face drawing near. “Can I kiss you?”

Denial hit him. “You’re just sleepy.”

But you didn’t back down. “No… I just…” your eyes darted down. “Can I?”

His heart went into a frenzy and he was left speechless. Your eyes were set on his lips and he somehow found the strength to nod.

It took you a couple of seconds to adjust yourself, and once you did, you closed the the gap, parting your lips slightly.

Miguel was left perplexed.

Weeks of yearning and obsession were finally being vindicated.

“Pretty eyes,” you whispered, breath fanning his lips. “So pretty…”

Your noses brushed together and he fought the urge to pull you into his lap at once.

“You’re the pretty one…” he said truthfully.

A smile curved your lips even through your sleepiness. “I’m going to kiss you now, Miguel O’Hara…”

And you did.

The moment your lips met his, Miguel felt his body react. It didn’t take long for the blood to rush down to his cock, slowly stirring it.

He could taste the inexperience on your lips as you kept breaking the kiss to gasp for air. It was blatantly obvious you needed some help figuring out what do next, so he happily obliged.

With one hand he managed to shift your leg to swing across his, and with the other he propped you onto his lap.

You broke the kiss, adjusting yourself and lacing your arms behind his neck and taking his lips again.

This time, he pressed his thumb to your chin, parting your lips, so he could deepen the kiss with his tongue. You immediately complied, and allowed him in with a soft whimper.

Miguel finally tasted you.

His sweet girl.

You came down to press your crotch against his painfully hard cock, and he immediately had to still your hips and lift you slightly.

You broke the kiss again, confusion in your eyes. “What…”

He didn’t dare confess it to you.

Instead, he pressed on your lower back so you would lean into him again with a kiss.

He wanted to taste you, but he couldn’t have you sit on his cock like that… he would absolutely burst.

His sweet girl sounded so sweet and receptive��

He felt you trying to defy his hold on your hips, surely wanting that friction, but he couldn’t afford that.

As much as he wanted to feel you grinding on him, he would be too embarrassed to cum so soon, and that thought was what ultimately prevented him from reaching the point of no return.

He brought one hand to grip your wrist, allowing the top half of his digital suit to disintegrate, so he could place the palm of your hand on his chest, revelling in your heated skin against his.

Suddenly, you parted from him with a gasp. “Wait… I’m…”

He arched an eyebrow in confusion and watched as you snaked your arm in between you two, sliding your hand down your sweatpants.

Miguel’s eyes widened and he was about to lose it until he realised what was really happening.

You slowly removed your hand and glared at it. “Oh.”

Your fingers were drenched in your wetness.

You were soaked.

For him.

He carefully looped his fingers around your wrist, wanting to taste you, but that sent you into an immediate frenzy, and you fumbled to get up from his lap, nearly falling back if not for his incredible reflexes.

“Easy…” he cooed, caressing his thumb along your pulse point. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything.”

You tumbled to the side and he let go of you, watching you sit back against the cushioned backrest and looking startled like a deer in headlights.

Just how inexperienced were you?

“Thanks…” you mumbled, chest heaving erratically. “I’m… yeah… and sorry…”

Miguel sat up straighter and arched a brow. “You don’t have to apologise.”

You nodded, your eyes falling to his bulge. “I mean… for that…”

Only you would ever apologise for giving him a raging boner.

His sweet girl…

“Don’t worry,” he reassured, feeling his heartbeat slow down. “Are you okay?”

“Yes…”

He offered a warm smile. “Good.”

Miguel didn’t even know where to begin. He couldn’t quite grasp the events of tonight, and it almost felt like a fever dream.

He was so used to getting hard from just the thought of you, that he couldn’t believe he was now hard because of you.

Still, the way you had reacted when you realised how wet you were for him led him to believe that maybe you were far more inexperienced than he had anticipated.

And he would respectfully give you all the time and space.

He would wait for you to ask him for more.

He could wait. His throbbing cock not so much, but he had other ways of dealing with that.

“Can I use your bathroom?” he asked, adjusting himself over his suit.

Your eyes widened. “Oh…”

“Just to ease some of the tension,” he immediately said.

He was desperate to let his cock spring free, and let it calm down until he was back at his apartment.

You then averted your gaze. “Can you… do it here?”

Miguel was utterly and completely taken aback.

“I… I have never…” you went on, quickly pulling your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them, and covering your face. “Nevermind…”

Oh.

Now it all made sense.

“Hey… look at me,” Miguel started, reaching out to tug at your wrist. “It’s okay.”

Slowly, you lifted your head to peer at him with evident hesitation. “Is it too… weird?”

“Not at all.”

And he meant it. By this point, he could feel his cock twitching more often, as more and more precum began to drip from the tip.

“Are you sure?” he asked, needing the absolute confirmation.

You promptly nodded, resting your chin on your forearm, eyeing him intensely.

He paused for a moment, expecting to be jolted away from this dream, or to have you backtrack.

“Please…” you whispered.

Swallowing hard, he allowed himself to sink into the backrest, before having the lower half of his suit disintegrating, and his cock finally released from its confinements.

Your eyes widened and your lips parted.

An instant ego boost that caused him to hiss as he wrapped his fingers around it. His body was so ready for you. Almost too ready. It didn’t take long before Migue felt droplets of precum sliding down his hips.

He couldn’t tear his eyes from you and it only added to the pleasure he felt.

Giving himself a few tentative pumps, he watched closely as you glared at the motion, curiosity splattered all over your face.

The first moans escaped his lips and he nearly slid his eyes shut, trying to stop himself from cumming too quickly.

But he didn’t want to miss out on anything you had to offer.

Miguel soon found a steady rhythm and began to fuck his hands like so many times before. But unlike those other times, he had you as an audience and he knew he wouldn’t last long no matter how hard he tried to muster images of the Vulture to dwindle his impending orgasm.

Then, you shifted closer, your legs dropping, but still pressed together.

He groaned, knowing exactly why you were being so fidgety.

Your hand was clutching at the hem of your shirt as a way to anchor yourself from the visual stimulation.

“You can touch yourself…” Miguel rasped, tightening the grip around himself, precum now flowing down his knuckles.

You pressed your legs tighter together and Miguel had to halt his motion or he would burst.

“…. or not,” he added, not wanting to overstep your line of comfort.

Your eyes darted to his face momentarily and, for the second time, Miguel saw your hand disappear inside your pants. You gasped softly and he could only guess that you must have reached your clit.

You let out the sweetest whimper, and Miguel’s cock twitched immediately.

His chest heaved and he swiped his thumb across the tip of his cock, letting out a groan.

He watched in awe as your arm moved rhythmically, and your eyes fluttered shut.

“Look at me…” he breathed.

You were biting yout lip, but did what he asked.

The urge to replace you hand with his — better yet, his cock — was almost painful and he knew he was heading towards the precipice, having to space out his strokes.

Your gaze fell to his hand. “How’s it so hard?”

He would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so dire and him being in need of release.

You scooted closer and closer, until your face was mere inches away, while still touching yourself.

For him.

Because of him.

“Why do you think?”

You gasped and he saw your hand slid out of your pants, fingers glistening with your wetness.

“Can… I?”

Miguel was too far gone to deny you of a newfound experience, so he nodded, bracing himself for what was about to happen.

He would burst.

You chewed on your lower lip as if unsure of what to do next, but he wanted you to take your time. A few moments later, you reached down with your soaked hand and he lets go of his cock, welcoming your touch.

He threw his head back and had to muster all of his willpower not to cum right away, as the pads of your fingers tentatively traced the underside of his cock, slowly moving to graze the veins that bulged from under the sensitive skin.

Everything inside him was suddenly burning like wildfire and he couldn’t stop his hips from jerking up.

By the time your thumb reached his tip and grazed slowly, Miguel hissed violently.

“Stop… stop - stop… please-” he begged, but was already being overtaken by the suffocating grip of a powerful orgasm.

You had indeed stopped touching him, but the damage had already been done.

His cock twitched rhythmically as hot spurts of cum began to cover his abs. Witch each roll of his hip, Miguel felt his vision blur and his fangs extend. He groaned your name a couple of times, before his words started to fuse together in a incoherent mess.

The stiffness of his peak shattered after a while and he slumped into the couch, struggling to even out his breathing.

Once he was finally able to open his eyes again, you came into his field of vision, holding a towel in your hands.

“Here,” you said as a smile broke across your face, before sitting by his side and offering it to him.

Even through the haze of an orgasm, Miguel was ablet o feel his heart skip a beat from your tenderness.

He proceeded to clean himself, wiping away the impressive amount of cum that had pooled on his lower abdomen.

“That was…”

His eyes were immediately on you. “Do you want me to…” he trailed off, allowing the not so subtle implication to dangle.

You didn’t catch it at first, but his silent was very telling.

“Oh, no — no, I’m fine, thanks,” you said with a chuckle.

“It’s only fair that I return the favor…”

You shook your head more vehemently this time. “It wasn’t a favor to begin with, Miguel. I was curious and… just wanted to watch you do it,” you mumbled as his digital suit began to cover his body again. “I had never… yeah — I’m still…”

Miguel had his suspicions that you were inexperienced, but he had no ultimate proof of that.

But this… “You’ve never had sex before?”

You settled back on the couch, crossing your legs. “No.”

He wasn’t sure of what to say. Was there even anything he should say?

So, he fell silent, waiting for you to take the lead.

“But… this was an interesting experience,” you eventually went on with a smile. “Do you… regret it?”

“No.”

But he could see doubt already settling on your face. “Maybe it was too much.”

“Not for me,” he said truthfully, straightening up in his seat. “Don’t think that, please.”

You nodded, but Miguel felt a pang of dread spread across his body. The last thing he wanted was for you to regret having opened up to him.

He had been longing for this for far too long to let it all be for nothing.

You were his sweet girl and you had his heart.

“Listen,” he started, set on preventing that from happening. “I can only speak for myself, but that was extremely hot. You are so, so attractive,” he went on, earning a doubting glare from you. “You are. I usually last longer than that.”

Your lips curled into an embarrassed smile, but Miguel could feel his words weren’t exactly reaching you.

Then silence took over.

You kept staring at your hands, head down and humming softly.

“Are you okay?” he shifted closer.

You took a deep breath. “I was thinking about your words earlier…”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

He watched you closely. “And what are you thinking?”

“I think you’re right, Miguel,” you drawled out, your voice but a whisper. “I’ve been blaming myself for what happened to Tom for too long.”

A jab of compassion and empathy tugged at his heartstrings. “You’re absolutely right.”

Then, lifting your head, you met his eyes. “I think… I want to meet up with Tom again. Thank you for making me realise that, Miguel,” you finished with a sweet smile.

Part 6

Masterlist

[affableramen]

i’m the anon who sent the ask for first time in bed. by that i mean it’s the first time they go to sleep together and how they react to this. it can be fluffy or suggestive!

Hi you didn’t specify which genshin men you would like, so I made by my choice. I apologise if you don’t see your favourite here, I unfortunately can’t read minds

FIRST TIME GETTING TO SHARE THE BED WITH GENSHIN MEN

|| Ayato, Wriothesley & Lone edition ||

Ayato

It was your first time sleeping in the same bed with Ayato. By common choice, it was your apartment that you used for the sleep in, at least this time. Your bedroom was not as big as in Ayato’s suite but once he stepped in you noticed how quickly his gaze softened, – that was a moment you realised that he was subconsciously satisfied with your room and liked the vibe on the whole.

“Are you a cuddly type?”

“Not really. I prefer to avoid unnecessary touch when possible.”

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, ready to indulge into sleep time along with your boyfriend, however Ayato was still wearing his suit, as if he was hesitant to proceed to lie down. To be frank you were not completely sure if he’d like that idea, as he was a very experienced man and he probably expected to proceed deeper than simply sleeping together. A part of you believed that he was decent enough to not let such thoughts occupy his mind too much.

“It’s our first time sleeping in the same bed. Do you have any requests from me? Like you could be a light sleeper etc.”, you asked him, looking forward for him to join you while he was undoing his expensive-looking cufflinks.

“I am a light sleeper, yes”, he responded, unnoticeably caught up perplexed at your correct remark. “I also prefer to be in complete darkness while asleep. I cannot stand a single hint of light, it irritates me”, his face expressed disgust and arrogance for a mere moment before he quickly adjusted himself and asked in a less hostile manner: “Should you have any requests?”

“Not at all. I guess we’re good to go. Why don’t you change into pyjamas?”

“One second”, Ayato excused himself to the bathroom to change his formal clothes into complete night wear. It didn't take him a lot, and he emerged in the bedroom as soon as possible. When you saw him first it was an unbelievable display. The man who’d do everything in a sleek suit was a complete opposite sight right now. It was as ridiculous as it was refreshing.

You looked at him clothed in a silver silk pyjamas set and smiled, you almost laughed outloud.

“For a person who’s only seen you in corporate suits, that’s a refreshing change. I’d only imagine you wear something cozy, and now I can see it with my own eyes.”

“Cozy”, he scoffed and got closer to the bed, his hands so restless as if he tried to cover his body. As if the sight of him without his sleek fashion was something indecent. “Do you like cozy?”

“I think it looks good on you”, you pushed the blanket to the side, inviting him carefully. “Come here.”

The commissioner looked you in the eyes as if searching for a double consent before he finally got under the duvet with you. He took the position to your left, but didn't move an inch before you allowed it. You extended your hand and gently turned off the lights. There appeared an inconvenient silence.

“Are you comfortable? We’ve never shared intimacy, yet you agreed to sleeping in. In my apartment. It could be dangerous for the both of us.”

“Usually when I’m in bed with a woman it is for an entirely different purpose. However, you’re an entirely different person, too”, he looked down at your hand before grasping it carefully, not causing you even slight pain. “My intentions are pure. Allow me to hold you while we rest.” You nodded, and slowly and carefully he pulled you closer so that his chest would hit your back. It made you smile to yourself subconsciously, and your expression went cocky. His presence was not just tolerable, it was pleasant in fact. He was a tall man with slim body type and you could almost feel his bones when you held his hand. But despite his bony physique once he wrapped the blanket around the both of you, he provided you unexpected warmth. Yes, even such an icy old businessman had been able to melt himself for you.

“He said he’s not a cuddly type. Who could think that the Yashiro Commissioner was such a softie underneath.”

He gave your arm a light squeeze before settling his own hand comfortably around your waist, not eager to share you with anyone else, as if asserting his ‘ownership’ of you.

“I only cross my boundaries for you. To be frank, I quite enjoy being so close to you, even though I was a bit skeptical from the start.”

You could feel his smile on you, which was definitely much more cunning and cocky than yours right now. Ayato’s breath was warm against your neck, before you decided to turn around and face him, your fingers caressing his hair. You heard his breath hitch at that moment yet he didn't move away. He froze in place, allowing you to cuddle him the way you saw it, despite him always being the one in control. Ayato showed vulnerability once he’s gotten into bed with you, even if for such pure reason as sleeping. As he was taller, your breath would tickle his neck while you snuggled him. After some time, Ayato pulled his arm around your waist at last, even though your position, face-to-face, was quite personal.

In the middle of the night you were restless and you woke up to drink a glass of water. Your mood lightened up when you saw that the cunning, extremely arrogant and calculating leader was still in your bed. He did not run away and remained completely still, his hand subconsciously reaching to you even in his sleep.

Wriothesley

“Hope you haven't forgotten to bring your tooth brush”, you say as Wriothesley enters your place with a backpack on his shoulder. He is certainly not a dude who suffers from financial hardship but his reaction to your house is not as frustrated as you thought it’d be. His house by any means is more comfortable and spacious than yours so you had a reason to expect his disappointment or at least slight displeasure. However upon entering your corridor Wriothesley only chuckles lightly “Nice place you got here. Can I just drop it here?”

“No, take it to the bedroom”, Wriothesley looks at you with shock. Seriously, you would trust him to drop his belongings in your room?

“It’s alright, trust me. Come upstairs with me.”

It is already quite a late hour when he arrives, and the both of you logically feel sleepy. Each one of you are a full time employee and your job takes its toll on you. Tonight is the first time when you’ll allow your boyfriend in the same bed with you. You were stirring in anticipation for this day for weeks, as the both of you thoroughly planned it. Luckily, Wriothesley did not forget to grab his tooth brush and pyjamas. Although you know his like for sleeping with naked chest, he shows incredible politeness and sensibility tonight by putting on a whole set of pyjamas. His muscular top cannot escape your curiousity as you watch him change carefully, his muscles flexing softly. Your eyes rake over his form, his chest and shoulders as he puts on his azure pyjama shirt. When he starts changing the bottoms you turn away, smiling to yourself. Naughty, you think, of me, to watch him undress like that. Should’ve asked him to change in the bathroom.

When Wriothesley is done changing he clears his throat,

“So, you ready? I’m getting really sleepy here.”

You can’t lie and say you don’t want to sleep, too. You point your palm at the bed, inviting him into the softness of sheets. Wriothesley lets you get in first to take the comfortable position and establish your boundaries before letting himself settle.

His strong, ex-inmate body presses against the matress, sinking into the sheets with you and taking the place on your right. Your bed feels no longer empty and lonely.

“What do you usually do before bed?” You ask him, spontaneously, absolutely sincerely wanting to make a conversation flow naturally. The silence is insufferable and it’s irritating you. When you are with him, you don't want to keep your mouth shut, you want to talk, and to listen. Wriothesley gives it a thought for a moment.

“Usually I have a cup of herbal tea before bed. It adjusts your sleep, helps your body and mind to relax. Why, you’d like to indulge my habits?”

Yes, archons, of course you’d like him to to share his habits with you. That’s what happens when you strive to be closer with someone. And him being your boyfriend, not just a rooommate, only justifies this desire.

“I have a citrus melissa tea if that would suffice?”

Wriothesley’s eyes widen but his voice remains flat. His expressions are always like that – internally he’s impressed but never showing the open vulnerability.

“Yes, that’s a brilliant idea I assume. Do you want me to come with you?”

“No”, you mean, yes, but… making him get up from the bed and experience embarrassment as he realises how red you’ve become by being so intimately close to him for the first time? No, never. “I’ll make it quick. You just relax here.”

“’kay”, he smirks to himself. This sharp-minded man definitely senses your actual reason to making him stay in bed.

Your hands shake slightly when you brew the tea, firstly for him and then for yourself. You choose a minimalistic white cup for him which is by size bigger than yours. As Wriothesley is an infamous tea addict, you want to serve him the best and as generous as possible. There you go, placing the mugs on the tray with napkins and spoons and taking it upstairs. When you kick the bedroom door with your leg, Wriothesley’s already holding a book he probably grabbed from your bedside table.

“Detective stories? Romance intrigues? Interesting. You like this kind of stuff?”

You place the tray on the table and snatch the book from his hand.

“That’s what’s popular in Fontaine. That’s what everyone reads.”

“But you, do you like it?”

His inquiry makes you question your beliefs.

“In a way yes, it’s scandalous and offensive, and I love stimulating my nervous system”, you offer him the mug. “Here’s our sleep time tea.”

“Thank you.”

You carefully take your place back into the bed with Wriothesley and sip your tea. The room is complete tranquility, with you and Wriothesley enjoying your evening conveniently in pyjamas.

Once the mugs are emptied and sweet tea has filled your stomachs, you place them back on the table. It’s time to actually sleep and you switch off the lights.

“Well? Good night now I guess.”

“Do you wanna cuddle?” The words escape your mou faster than you could think of them. Wriothesley answers a subtle smile, hinting at having waited for you to offer that. You are the one to mention it, but he’s the one to start. Wriothesley carefully wraps his big calloused hands around your waist. His touch is firm but not pressuring at all. As if asking for your permission he first runs his hand over your back, caressing before actually moving closer, until the two of you are flush against each other.

“How do you feel? Alright?”

“Yes.”

As soon as you approve, your response serves motivation for Wriothesley to pull you even closer, making you a small spoon to him and actually cuddling you. It is wrong to assume that Wriothesley is not embarrassed or shy at all having you pressed so close to him. His breathings and careful, slow movements prove that he is agitated too and does his best to not ruin your expectations and comfort. Deliberately, he wraps his arms around you fully and keeps you warm, not a single thing occupying his mind right now except for you, while you slowly fall asleep to the beating of his heart and distant clock ticking.

Pantalone

With a borderline soft smile Pantalone walks out of the shower and looks at you. He smells like heavenly musk and mint toothpaste, delivering a mix of impossible. A dark navy satin gown hugs to his body loosely. His skinny complexion is of course the cause of it. You can’t help but notice the sharp outline of his shoulders and his hands – bare and calloused, subjected to eczema, but still looking incredibly tender.

“Are you sure you’ll be comfortable staying a night with me? After all, I’m a man.”

His clarification makes you smile — careful, isn’t he? Setting a slow pace is certainly one way to maintain a positive vibe between you two.

Once getting into the bed sheets where you welcome him with a soft smile, Pantalone relaxes and lets out a soft exhale. He takes his glasses off and puts them into the case on the bedside table.

“Good. Please, make yourself comfortable.” You wait for Pantalone to pull on the blanket, but he seems to be waiting too. The both of you freeze there, in the bed, expecting one another to make a move. Pantalone realises how inconvenient and inconsiderate the situation is and his smirk turns into a wide smile.

“This is so silly of me, isn’t it?” He finally grips onto the blanket and pulls it, the fuzzy warm thing coats you both smoothly.

You notice the way Pantalone stares you up and down, not in a weird way, but rather studying your face again and again. He has seen you so many times, yet now you seem different up close to him in this intimate moment.

You clear your throat:

“Do you cuddle?”

“Cuddling?” His smile falters only for a moment, the wheels in his head are turning. “I assume so, only if you’d like that.” Something about his answer remains unspoken. Letting someone so intimately close not only to the body but to his soul is apparently a burden. Kisses and hugs after all are much different than a one night stand with a gorgeous rich woman he doesn’t love.

“I’d very much like that.”

Pantalone nods, as if accepting his fate he snuggles closer to you and says firmly:

“Wrap your arms around my waist.” You do exactly that, wrapping your arms around his what seems to be quite thin waist, even though covered in a robe. The robe however does not hide the fragility of his body.

Pantalone relaxes into the mattress and attempts to get into a more lying-like position, all before you notice something.

“You have toothpaste on your face.”

“Toothpaste? On my face?” Visibly startled and embarrased, he who is used to always take care of his appearance to the highest standard, immediately roams over his face with his fingers trying to find the spot but ends up smearing it. Seeing the helpless Harbinger failing at finding the toothpaste spread on his cheek, you bring your thumb to his face and wipe it properly. Certainly not expecting your touch, Pantalone tenses up a bit but lets you finish the task. Once you clean it with your delicate touch you slowly lower you hand to run down his shoulders.

“Are we ready to sleep?” you ask, your hand lingering on his robe, embracing the warmth coming from his body. Pantalone chuckles, still covering his previous embarrasment and responds softly:

“If you find yourself completely comfortable, then we shall sleep”, his face once again loses his smirk as he pulls on you slowly and gently to keep you flush and pressed to his chest, with no visible ulterior motive however. His touch is so gentle it is almost innoticeable, yet he manages to guide you closely to him. He looks into your eyes for a few moments before murmuring simply “Good night” and shutting his eyes.

During the sleep however he tosses and turns his body so that the big spoon role averts to you naturally.

[ghostgirl-22]

Art getting GANGBANGED💜

This made me giggle when you sent it anon, I won’t lie <3 Then I thought oh god now I have to write it. So here you are. I am so sorry for this. I don’t know what this is (it’s quite nonsensical). Honestly, feel like I flew too close to the sun. I need to retire from writing smut and start writing an older Art living peacefully by the sea. (Decide if that makes you want to read it or run away) But I digress…

CW: 18+ !NSFW! EXPLICIT bimbofication, feminization, objectification, D/s vibes if you squint, there can be the perception of CNC but I promise you everyone really wants this, especially blondie, but please avoid if things like gangbangs trigger you. Can feel a bit AU…let’s be generous and say canon drift…

Your reference is this post about a negligée (an impossible word to spell btw so watch me fuck it up repeatedly along with all my other spelling and grammar mistakes).

—-

It’s a game of truth or dare. That’s how the whole thing happens.

Regular and completely normal Friday night. Patrick’s visiting Stanford. The girls team is at an away game, traveling back tomorrow and the boys just finished a tournament playing the same team here and Art sends him a text.

Hanging out with friends probably gonna play video games, you should come and bring drinks.

And then 10 minutes later: I think my roommate wants to fuck me lol

Patrick has to laugh because this is actually the kind of stupid thing that could only happen to Art.

Art is already dizzy and flirty when Patrick arrives at his dorm with the alcohol. His cheeks are already coloring, his eyes are dilated. And it’s no wonder because he’s already getting way too much attention. There are three other boys in the bedroom with him, his roommate Carter who Patrick could tell, so very obviously wanted to fuck Art since he first met him. But it’s worse now ever since he woke up once in the middle of night and heard Patrick doing it.

And then two others Patrick doesn’t know but Art calls them Jamie and Max, “friends” from the Stanford tennis team. Patrick clocks them right away as having the same desire to fuck Art that Carter has.

That kind of male attention makes Art go silly. At this point Art doesn’t even need a drink. He’s half lost, giggling at things that aren’t even funny just because some cute boy is touching his knee, pinching his cheek, calling him pretty. Patrick’s hard immediately.

It’s truth or dare, Carter’s idea, and Patrick’s probably drinking too much. The game gets nasty pretty quickly. Art can’t sit still, he’s on his hands and knees when Max says “I dare you to kiss me.” Can’t stop himself when Jamie dares him to do it again, but with tongue. He’s in his t-shirt and boxers, ass sticking out as he crawls over Patrick’s lap to kiss Jamie. Carter’s adjusting himself, mouth open, staring at it. Patrick thinks once or twice about letting them pass him around. Shit like this is usually foreplay for him but right now he’s feeling so buzzed he might just want to see how deep this rabbit hole goes.

He’s horny as fuck, but his brain doesn’t actually break until Art’s roommate says, “Truth or Dare, roomie, is it true you stole your ex-girlfriend's lingerie?"

“I didn’t steal it,” Art hiccups, he’s distracted because Max runs his fingers through Art’s hair on his way back to the circle, with a new drink which he hands to Art. He cups Arts cheek, fingertips brush against his lips. Art’s whining “stop it,” but Patrick sees the way he follows the touch. Art doesn’t even notice it when Patrick takes the drink out of his hand, because he’s dangerously close to spilling it everywhere. He’s not even drunk, barely even tipsy and still just so empty headed.

Carter goes to Art’s Stanford issued dresser and pulls out this thing from the first drawer. Barely a thing. A pink little slip of a thing. “What’s this?”

“She let me have it,” Art says, voice pitched too high. He’s sitting on his knees, hands pressed between his thighs.

”Why?” Carter asks, like he knows something they don’t know. Patrick thinks he likes him the least.

“You said you wouldn’t tell anyone,” Art says, it’s too whiny and playful.

Patrick’s mildly annoyed now, “Share with the class,” he says. He doesn’t really want Art keeping secrets with roommates that aren’t him.

Art goes all compliant and he’s squirming on the floor as he looks at Patrick, “She said it looked better on me.”

Both Max and Jamie start snickering.

Patrick thinks of himself as a genius. He generally thinks he’s the smartest person in the room most of the time, but this has to be one of the smartest things he’s ever said or done ever. In ever. “Okay…I dare you to try it on.”

“You want me too?” Art asks, glassy eyed, as he gazes at Patrick.

Patrick grabs at his t-shirt and he doesn’t even have to pull. Art just gravitates towards him, closing his eyes, parting his lips instinctively and Patrick thinks he’s in love with him. Like one day he’ll probably marry him, move him into a house with a white picket fence and fuck him so full of come that… etcetera etcetera. The American dream.

“Yeah, put it on sweetie.” Patrick says gently. “Call me when you’re done… I want to see it first.”

Art licks his lips and opens his eyes again before he stumbles to his feet. He tries to take it from Carter but Carter hides it behind his back which means Art’s got to reach around him, touch him, play with him. When Art manages to get it away he’s already blushing. He goes in the bathroom, telling them no one better laugh. And Patrick needs a cigarette. Needs to run a marathon or climb a mountain for all the pent up energy inside him right now.

“You his boyfriend or something?” Max asks, curiously.

“Or something,” Patrick says. Truth is Art only started putting out after he found out Tashi was. And as long as Patrick has wanted to fuck Art he’s never really stopped to think about why Art chose now. Patrick isn’t picky. He’s not picky at all. He’ll fuck Art, he’ll fuck Tashi, he’d fuck them both at the same time if they wanted it.

“Can you share?” Carter asks.

Patrick shrugs, “I think I have been.”

“No I mean really share,” Carter says and he stares at the bathroom door.

Patrick smirks. “I think I need another drink.”

He can hear Art calling for him and when he taps the door to let himself in he’s pretty sure that’s the moment— the exact moment— his brain fully and completely short circuits. From that point forward he’s actually an entirely different person.

“It’s just too…” Art whines, unable to think. He’s sitting on the toilet lid bouncing his leg. The blush goes everywhere. Down his chest to the pink lacy teddy. It fits like a glove. It’s hugging his waist, see through sheer fabric over his chest embroidered with with some kind of threading that would barely hide his tits if he had any. Patrick can clearly see his nipples, taut and erect through the sheer fabric. It’s not the only part of him that’s erect. The equally sheer lace panties underneath the negligée are straining to keep him contained and he’s fucking soaking the lace with precum, so wet, Patrick thinks, leaking through his panties like a fucking girl.

Patrick thinks he’s gonna fuck him right there. Pull him on his lap and go fucking crazy.

“Patrick I—I wanna— I need—“ he stammers, helpless. He’s gone full, if I only had a brain.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Patrick says, swallowing thickly. “I know what you need. Come here.”

Art’s still bouncing his leg, he’s got pretty legs, soft and smooth and toned and so long. Still in his nearly knee high white socks. Fucking slut. Patrick guides him to his feet, and immediately Art’s wrapping his arms around Patrick. Patrick can feel the way he’s starting to rub himself along Patrick’s thigh. The wet hot heat of him. Patrick shoves Art up against the wall to stop him and he takes a deep breath, coming to the distant realization that he’s actually shivering. “Can you hear me?” Patrick asks, probably trying to calm himself down more than anything else.

Art nods.

“You hear my voice?”

“Mmhm. Patrick—- Patrick please I need—“

“I know. You need to be fucked, don’t you baby?” Patrick’s not sure what he’s saying but Art just moans. “Fuck. You don’t even care who fucking does it. You’d let anybody in right now.” Patrick continues.

Art is nodding his head. ”Mm, yes Patrick please, please, please—” he groans, begging, pleading. For one terrifying minute Patrick thinks he’s gonna get on his knees in that slutty little slip and break Patrick forever. His eyes are all glassy and wet and he’s trying to get friction, attention, something, his blonde curls falling into his eyes.

“Oh fuck it, come on,” Patrick says and he opens the door. Art walks timidly into the bedroom. Patrick stays a second longer to look for the lube under the counter and finds a box of unopened condoms too. The second he stayed was too long. Carter’s already got Art pressed up against the wall, tongue in his mouth, Jamie’s got his hands inside the fabric of the negligée, rubbing his nipples like he’s got a full set of tits or something. Max is watching, touching himself, idly over his boxers.

The whole time Art’s moaning helplessly moving his hips. Needy like he’s in heat. Patrick makes them wear a condom if they want him. And holy fuck do they want him.

Patrick starts it first on the bed, pulls Art on his lap just to get him wet, get him loose. He’s careful about it. Art’s so horny he’s trying to lose it quickly so Patrick has to grab onto him, slow him down. Even him out.

“Fuck,” Art’s whining, mindlessly. “Fuck, Patrick it’s so big. It’s so big. It’s so fucking… much.”

Patrick’s rubbing his tummy through the fabric, he’s flexed so tight, barely breathing. Patrick moves up to brush his nipples and he moans.

“Hey gorgeous, you wanna try this?” Max whispers, pressing his cock to Art’s lips. “I dare you.”

Art doesn’t need the dare. He takes it in his mouth eagerly. Patrick can feel him squeezing, clenching, grinding as he sucks on it… can feel the overwhelming heat of his tight little body. Patrick grips him tighter to steady him. “Take your time,” Patrick whispers.

He’s taking so much in his mouth. Max starts groaning, “Oh fuck. Yeah, take your time gorgeous, holy shit.”

Patrick kisses on his throat where he’s swallowing and tries to coax him off. If he stays inside much longer he’s going to lose his mind and that’s the last thing he needs right now. They need at least one working brain between them.

Art’s breathing heavy when he opens his mouth, drool spilling everywhere. Patrick pushes him to get up and Carter grabs him next. He pushes him on the bed on his hands and knees and goes to town, so eager he barely lasts. As Carter’s fucking him Art is licking Jamie’s cock, and then swallowing on Max’s, occassionally both at the same time. Patrick is sitting on the other twin bed, trying his best not to lose it untouched for how fucking hot this is. Art is so far gone Patrick wonders if he even realizes how much of a fucking mess he is.

He’s got it all over him, hands, tongues, cock. They’re all kissing, touching, putting fingers in his hair, in his mouth, in his ass. Jamie and Carter both fighting to get a turn. Jamie fucking him till he’s coming, hot sticky ropes of it dripping, dripping slowly from his soaked panties onto the bed. He’s overstimulated taking Max, but he doesn’t stop. He’s pushing back on it, moaning in a way that sounds like he’s vacillating between pleasure and pain.

Carter starts kissing him and eventually Arts just moaning into his mouth.

“You’re so goddamn pretty,” Jamie’s cooing, jerking himself. “Gonna make me wanna nut again, fuck.”

Art’s making pleasure sounds only now. His cock filling up again just a few minutes before Max is finishing inside him.

“Shit, that felt so fucking good,” Max breathes. Art looks around dizzy as Max pulls out and starts tying the condom off. And then Carter’s on him, kissing him again, so he sits up and crawls into Carter’s arms so he can be held. But Patrick grabs him by the waist.

“My turn, come here, princess,” Patrick says, teasingly, pulling him back onto the second bed. His bed.

“Patrick—I think I— I need to—“ Art’s climbing onto him all doe eyed and wet, wet lips, wet eyes, wet with sweat and come and lube. The lingerie falling off one shoulder and his pretty pink nipple just exposed. Patrick nibbles at it gently.

“Patrick,” Art whines.

“You wanna come?” Patrick asks softly. His voice doesn’t sound like his own. He pulls Art onto his lap and eases himself inside and Art’s moving right away. He feels looser than Patrick’s ever felt him before but he’s still so nice and warm, and too fucking tight for him. He’s not ever to be trusted alone with boys, Patrick decides. Not boys like this at least. He just barely gets Art over the finish line when he’s losing it. It’s not even 5 minutes and he’s losing it. Does it raw just to spill it all inside him. If Patrick had something to prove he might be embarrassed but he is the one holding onto Art in the end, soothing him. Calming him down as he comes back to reality and in that reality Art is his…even if Patrick is more than willing to share when Art needs it.

When the other boys have left and Carter’s in the shower and they’re finally alone together Art is mostly back to himself. They’re eating leftover pizza and watching Sports Center. Art is devouring his, probably starving after using all of that energy. Patrick tangles his fingers into Art's hair, it’s still a little damp from the shower.

“Truth or dare,” Patrick says

“Truth,” Art says, his mouth half full.

Patrick sighs. “I don’t know what that was but you’re fucking beautiful.”

Art turns to look at Patrick with a little smirk, still chewing. “I know.”

“And you can’t ever do that when I’m not there.”

“I know,” Art says again.

“So I’m keeping the lingerie.”

Art shrugs, “I know.”

“Okay know it all,” Patrick gazes back at him and then takes the rest of the pizza crust out of his hand, smiling as he takes a bite. “Good.”

[perreqult]

THIS SUCKS. ✶ will smith

REQUEST BY: (smitty) anon !

summary: being on your period sucks, but it sucks a little less when will’s there.

word count: 0.8k

contains: fluff, periods, lords name used in vain (?), think that’s it

notes: yet again this is unedited so expect a lot of mistakes.

“God should’ve just made me a guy. This sucks.” You announce loudly, yet there only being one other person in the apartment with you. That person being your boyfriend, Will.

Will always insisted on pampering you during you period, getting anything you need for you, making sure you’re stocked up on pads and tampons, making sure you’re well fed, basically everything that goes into making you comfortable while you’re having the worst cramps of your life.

He never complained about doing any of these things for you, for most of the things he does, you didn’t even have to ask him to do. He just… does. It’s like he has telepathy to sense all of your needs, sometimes he even notices before you.

Right now you were lying down on the couch while Will was making dinner in the kitchen. You finally opt to get up from the spot you’ve been occupying for the last hour and waltz into the kitchen to greet your boyfriend.

“Hey.” You say, sounding a lot more tired than you thought. “Wasn’t expecting you to get up for a while.”— frankly you weren’t either, you were practically dying. He unfocuses on what he was doing for a moment to lean over and kiss the tip of your forehead and focusing back onto whatever he was making. “You holding up? After i’m done making dinner I’ll lie down with you, don’t you worry.”

“Good, I miss feeling you hold me tight.” You continue “Makes me feel better in these trying times.” You joked, Will letting out a light chuckle.

“Well I won’t be long, don’t worry all your blood out” He says, barely able to get the last part out because he’s laughing too hard. “Oh shut up.” You can’t even say that wasn’t funny— you wonder if he’d thought of that before hand.

Instead of going back to the couch, you stay in the kitchen with him, leaning up against the counter. You’re half contemplating sticking your stomach on the hot burner you’re so uncomfortable, but you’re trying your best to not let Will figure that out. Will dosent let you lift a finger whenever you’re not feeling well— in any circumstance, whether it be your period, you being sick, tired, achy, etc.

Somehow, he notices. “Cramps again?” He’s looking over like he’s noticed for a while— before you did. “Oh my God Will, I’m fine.” Yeah that was a lie. You try to get through your sentence without sounding disturbed but that “fine” comes out pained.

He doesn’t even say anything before he immediately picks you up—which you can’t even protest because you’re still shocked—and plops you on the couch. “Lie. Down.” It’s kinda cute how much he worries about you.

He then quickly goes to your bedroom and gets your heating pad, tossing it down on your stomach and plugging it in. “Love you.” He tells you as he finally refocuses on dinner.

“I hate you.” You tell him jokingly. “No you don’t.” He laughs, being quick to call you out on something he knows isn’t true.

In around 10 minutes he finishes up with dinner and brings you a plate. “Feeling any better?” “No, worse— I need you to coddle me more.” You say sarcastically as you smile at him. “Wow so I’m a terrible boyfriend then.” He says, continuing your joke.

“Yeah, terrible, horrid, bad, not good.” It’s hard to even finish your sentence by how hard you’re laughing. He just shakes his head and giggles.

You guys talk about what Macklin’s up to, how was your work day, stupid hypotheticals you ask him, really anything.

By the end of the night he has to drag you into the room to get you to move. After he finally succeeds and places you on the bed, he walks back into the living room to grab your heating pad and plugs it back in at the side of your bed.

“Get closerrrr.” You say, dragging out the ‘r’. He dosent answer as he scoots over and holds you tight. “I miss not having my period.” “Well this just gives me an excuse to be close to you and pamper you all the time.” He says into your neck. You just roll your eyes in response.

As you both are drifting off to sleep for the night, you groan at a particularly bad cramp and he just reaches over you to your bedside table and hands you an ibuprofen and goes to get a glass of water.

“Nevermind, I like you taking care of me.” You giggle into his shoulder as he gets back in bed, holding you tighter than ever.

[markkiatocafe]

hi idk if you’re taking requests but could i get she fell first but he fell harder type of ordeal with haechan? reader really likes him & doesn’t mind showing it, but haechan brushes her off, she finally takes a hint, but he actually liked it, he was just flustered but now that she’s stopped he’s realized he’s in deep with her and doesn’t want her to stop??

intro : dreamscape

𖠚 warnings: they’re baking cookies, haechan calls reader “pretty,” multiple times, other than that quite fluffy i think!!!!

𖠚 synop: haechan doesn’t realize his feelings for you until you do something about it. you don’t intend to make him want you, but, hey, you’re not complaining.

𖠚 pairing: fem!reader x downbad!haechan

𖠚 w.c: 725

𖠚 a/n: hiii anon!!!! i am taking requests ><!!! i hope you like this :33 i love this trope (plus any cheesy trope in general tbh) sm….. this was also sm fun to write, so i hope it’s as fun to read!!!!

you’ve been friends with haechan since highschool. although, only a few months ago did you start to realize that you honestly have some pretty deep feelings for him.

you were never one to really hide your feelings, you made jokes and sarcastic remarks about how you felt towards haechan multiple times before, but usually he just brushed it off or made a flirty but clearly friend-zoning joke back. you had even flat out told him you liked him one time, and he just replied back, “who wouldn’t like someone like me?” so, you felt he established your place pretty clearly.

until recently.

recently, haechan had started to be more… clingy. it was in small ways, asking you to come over more often, letting his hand brush against yours if you both reached for something, pulling away at the last millisecond, and he even started making teasing remarks towards you. so, today you decided to confront him.

not really confront him, he wasn’t a criminal or something, but you were curious where all this clingy nature came from so suddenly. today you were going over to his house, to make cookies and watch a movie, so it was all laid out for you, anyways.

you were currently working on the cookies together, music playing from haechan’s speaker in the background, a demo he had been working on. he was giving you the, “premium best friend preview privileges,” as he called it. you were busy cutting up the dough with the metal cookie-cutters you brought, which were in the shapes of leaves.

“here, let me do it,” haechan suddenly spoke up after fiddling with his phone to play the right song and connect to the bluetooth speaker. he walked over to you, gently moving you out of the way and taking the cookie-cutter from your hand. “don’t want you to get a cut on those pretty hands, do we?” he said, his voice having that signature flirty tone, although, it was too real. too genuine to just be a joke this time, the same way it had been sounding way too much recently.

“why have you been acting like that so much lately?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him suspiciously, crossing your arms across your chest.

he tilted his head at you a little bit, still cutting the cookies, a tiny smirk playing on his lips as he shrugged. “what do you mean, pretty?” he replied, feigning innocence.

you put out your hands, holding them out just like how you held his heart so tightly without either of you even realizing it. “that!!!” you pointed a finger at him. “that tone!!!”

he shrugged, letting out a soft laugh. “i don’t know what you mean, i’m just being me.”

you rolled your eyes, huffing. “you do know what i mean, because you’re smiling. you do that when you lie,” you retorted.

he couldn’t help but feel a little, tiny bit of warmth in his chest that you even noticed that. he brushed that to the side for now, though. “i can’t be affectionate to my best friend?” he asked, drawing out the words at the end. as flirty as he was, he was so stubborn to admit it when actual feelings were behind the flirty comments and nicknames.

“you know that’s not what i mean.” you replied, your voice a little more serious now, “your voice has this, like… underlying tone. like i’m the most special thing in the world.” you said, as your voice got more serious, it also got quieter. it didn’t dawn on you how it would be a little odd to talk about this so directly. implying that someone has feelings for you is… nerve wracking, especially when there’s a huge chance they could just brush it off as nothing. “knock it off.” you added at the end, your voice back to a relatively normal volume, trying to add that lightheartedness back to the conversation at hand.

haechan let out a soft sigh. the sad thing was, he couldn’t say you were wrong. he placed down the cookie cutter, opening the oven and placing them in. “maybe you are the most special thing in the world,” he said, his voice quiet, thoughtful in it’s own way as he turned the dials on the stove to turn it on. “at least, in my world.”

[tales-from-elysivm]

I saw your bakugou with sibling reader! I loved it and would like to ask for a continuation

Maybe when the reader gets their quirk? And how would the family and others react if it does turn out to be more powerful than his

★。／ plus ultra: echo burst! ＼。★

pairing: bakugo x gn!sibling!reader (part two!)

(here's a link to part one if you haven't read it yet!)

fandom: boku no hero academia

word count: 5.4k

tw: none! purely some platonic, wholesome fluff. of course, a bit of cussing from bakugo, and some canon typical violence, unedited because i’m too tired for that-  (very little violence, only implied/mentioned, little baby y/n bakugo doesn’t need that–)

notes: this is my first fic sequel! on my old blog, i had a sequel planned out and requested of bakugo’s sibling ending up quirkless, so if anyone wants to see a secondary sequel about a quirkless!sibling as well, let me know! but of course, they/them pronouns for little sibling bakugo, and please enjoy! thank you again for requesting this fic anon!

! be sure to like and reblog if you enjoyed !

‘don’t touch that y/n.’

katsuki bakugo reluctantly holds onto the tiny, chubby hand of his little sibling, dragging them haphazardly through a crowded market aisle. despite being late to your appointment at the doctor, you had begged him to take you to get ice cream afterwards. your appointment had gone well, and mitsuki had demanded he do anything you wanted today.

he decides to let you loose in a merchandise store just off the side of the street. it’s the same one where you had gotten your all might onesie, and your favourite lunch boxes. he wouldn’t be surprised if it was the same place deku got all his merch too.

looking around at the merch, he can’t help but think of your appointment, though it hadn’t really bothered him at all before now.

things were great. your joints in your little toe showed you would get your quirk at some point, it would develop, which would no doubt relieve his mother - she had long ago begun doubting whether you would end up quirkless, and the idea had concerned her until she had almost driven herself mad. but, according to him, you were fine. a quirk would come to you eventually, it just had to develop, and he told bakugo that things would be fine with a hearty smile on his round face.

it had made him think - he would only admit that it was briefly - what it would be. your quirk. would it be explosive like his own or would it be defensive or weaker? despite thinking of this too, he didn’t really have the heart - and he had one, deep down, for you - to think of his sibling any differently.

‘katsuki!’ you come running up to him, a round bandaid on your bare arm from the blood test you undertook. you cried a little, but toughed it up, your eyes still slightly red. in your arms is a soft midnight plush, and you hold it out to him with the biggest grin he’s probably ever seen. ‘can i get a midnight?’

he looks at it for a moment. he doesn’t even bother asking how much it might be before he deflates at the doe-eyed look you give your big brother. you walk him to the counter and hold his hand while he pays for your new plushee. one you definitely didn’t need.

with midnight plush in hand, you let him lead you out of the store.

bakugo isn’t stupid, he knows the city isn’t safe when it gets darker. he knows that villains lie on almost every corner, and that he can’t always predict when or where they might strike. he had let you drag him anywhere, and stupidly he followed. because what kind of brother would he be if he denied you? that’s how he ends up halfway across the city and carrying you home while you doze off on his shoulder. your midnight plush pressed tightly between your backs. but something passes overhead, a dark shape in the sky. a shop alarm rings out through the blackness of the street. the night lights flicker on. 

it’ll only take him about fifteen minutes to get you home. but even he can feel the slightest thrill of fear that sets in. a prickling on his skin. 

then a bin in the alley rattles and knocks over. from the quick flash he can see, it’s not one of the villains he’s seen before, or at least no one important enough to remember. his grip tightens around your legs, hoisting you higher on his back before he continues his walk home, his steps quickening despite himself.

your head lolls on his shoulder, your face pressed into his shirt.

‘kat? what’s wrong?’ he doesn’t answer you, only slides you onto the concrete quickly and hides you behind an alcove in the storefront. he makes sure you’re hidden by the foliage hanging overhead. ‘katsuki?’

‘stay here, ok?’ he tells you quietly, ruffling your hair a little bit to calm the panicked glaze in your eyes. it doesn’t work. his parents were always better at this stuff. ‘don’t make a sound.’

you’ve watched katsuki fight before. you’ve seen villain attacks that he got caught up with on the news, as a u.a student it’s almost expected. but this is different. you had never seen it in person. never felt the heat radiating off his explosions, seen the buildings behind this villain crumble on impact, never felt the ringing of your ears when it finally bursts. no, this is different. katsuki has only been hit once or twice, dodging the villains knives that seem to almost miraculously float around him, flying in any direction he pleases. it scares you, just how close it feels now. you don’t think you like it very much at all.

but then katsuki dodges one of those flying knives, and on his cheek a shallow wound oozes a trickle of blood. he wipes it away nonchalantly, like this happens all the time. you had never seen something like this, he was always patched up by the time he came home to see you. but this is terrifying. 

without a thought, you leap forward from the alcove, little legs pounding the pavement as you plant yourself in the space between katsuki and the villain. your little arms outstretched to protect your brother, your midnight plush clutched in your fists. fat tears roll down your round cheeks and your lip trembles.  the villain laughs at you, you think. and katsuki yells at you to reach cover again. maybe he barks out some threat, hoping it would scare you enough to run away. but it doesn’t. instead, you let yourself be curled into his arms and you hold midnight like a beacon. your crying erupts into earth-shattering screams.

a shockwave bursts from your fingers, the force pulsating in your skin and travelling up your arms. it hurts a little bit, makes your arms shake. your knees feel weak as you hold it, the bubble growing until it pins the villain against the alley wall. it crumbles under his weight, pushing his form against the brick. even if you wanted to you wouldn’t be able to let it go. 

‘y/n, it’s okay, it’s okay,’ katsuki soothes with a hand on your head, shielding your gaze from the villain as he finally falls limp to the floor. not quite dead, not yet at least. ‘let’s go home, yeah?’

you nod up at him, and the shockwave droops, it fades, becoming a small bubble around you and your brother, encasing you in safety as you play with the tips of midnight’s hair. 

katsuki doesn’t quite understand it immediately, but it clicks for him as he reaches the front step of your home, looking down at your sleeping form cradled in his arms, he realises just how powerful your quirk could be. your cheeks are red and splotchy from your crying before, and yet you look almost peaceful.

he moves aside your hair, and looks down at your face.

despite knowing you would always be an amazing hero, now he knew for sure. now he could probably brag that his little sibling was going to surpass even all might. 

maybe, he wouldn’t mind you surpassing him either, if you kept smiling like you had.

[kennedyalike]

hi pookie!!! i love ur writing <3 i would literally die if you wrote dom! leon x fem!reader smut with degrading and bondage and breeding 🤭

Where do you think you’re going?

dom!toxic!boyfriend!leon x fem!reader

tags: possesive behaviour, smut, sex, p in v sex, fingering, bsdm bondage, ropes, breeding kink, toxic bf leon, mentions of breaking up, oral sex (both f and m receiving) degrading, toxic behaviour

word count: 1.7k

hi anon! i would LOVE to.. leon w breeding kink is the best<3 enjoy

You’ve finally mustered up enough confidence to leave him. Yes. You were going to do it finally. Leave your boyfriend of 2 years. There were many reasons to be honest but the main reason is that you feel trapped. He’s just so overprotective, controlling, possessive and….toxic.

Always trying to control your life and then he only defends it with ”But I know what’s best for you baby.” He’s manipulative and tries convincing you he just loves you so much. In all honesty, you love him way too much and deep inside you, you know you belong to him and you want to stay forever. But this is a desperate facade of an attempt to save yourself.

”Leon…Can we talk?” You shyly request while he undresses his jacket. He just came home from work. ”About?” He mumbles quietly while walking towards you. You look away for a second to brace yourself for what’s to come. ”Uhh…Well I wanted to talk a little about what I’ve been feeling like for a while.” You explain.

He stops right before you and his hands curl around your waist, pulling you a little closer to his muscular torso. Even though you’re breaking up with him, you can’t lie, he’s hot as fuck. Compression shirt on and the muscles looking so delicious under it. Veins on his arms and a muscly chest right in front of you. He stands taller and his soft ash blonde locks fluffle as he looks down at you. ”Talk.”

You hesitate for a second again before speaking up. ”I’ve kinda felt t-trapped and like…I don’t think this is working for me anymore.” You explain slowly while looking away. You wait a second for him to say something but he only looks at you straight in the eyes without his expression even quivering. ”Continue.” He demands and you start rambling again.

”W-well what I mean is..we need to break up. I-I can’t handle you controlling my life like this.” You finally finish. A slight smirk grows on his face as he leans towards you and whispers into your ear. ”We are not breaking up, sweetheart.” He says while his other hand leaves your waist to grab at your neck. The other still gripping your waist so tightly it almost hurts. ”Leon.. I’m serious…” You say while he slightly starts squeezing your neck, you paw at his hand and squeeze your thighs together.

”What? You thought I’d just take that from you? Sweet baby, you’re such a dumb slut. I know you want me so stop fighting it and be a good girl.” He’s not asking. A small whimper escapes your mouth and your lips part slightly. ”Leon…’need you.” You hear him chuckle under his breath before he withdraws his hand from your neck and grabs at your hips, turning your body around and pinning you face down to the wall.

”You really thought that would work, you’re such a little cutie, saying that while in this nightgown, you planned this didn’t you?” He groans into your ear as his hand squeezes at your ass and tits roughly, making you moan his name. ”Here’s what's gonna happen, baby. You’re gonna get on your knees and suck me off, if you do good enough I won’t tie you up.” He pushed your head down as you nodded and dropped to your knees.

The light coming from the kitchen made him look so sexy that you even wanted him to tie you up. You look up at him with puppy dog eyes as you unbuckle his belt and start pulling his pants down. He looks at you without a word. You wrap your hand around his hard cock and gently pump it up and down. His tip is pink and leaking and you feel your mouth watering as you bring your face closer to it. Your tongue lolls out and you start giving him little kitten licks. ”You’re begging for it, huh?” He growls and you start messily kissing all over his tip, slowly pumping his shaft while looking up at him.

Your mouth wraps around his tip fully and you suck a little, teasing him even further as he starts pushing your head down more. ”Faster..” He sighs as he grabs at your hair. You start going deeper, taking more of him in when his thrusts start getting sloppy. You almost gag when you push him deeper and deeper. ”Good girl…gonna cum.” He swears under his breath and suddenly you pull away from him, ripping his orgasm from him.

He hisses and looks at you, down on your knees with a smirk on your face. He roughly grabs at your hair and yanks you forward, his cock hitting your face messily. ”You wanna be a brat?” You just moan as he lifts you up, pushing you towards the bedroom. ”Leon…Don’t have to get so mad…” You giggle.

He pins you to the bed and starts rummaging through the closet, getting ropes. You know what’s coming and you can’t help but to press your thighs together when you feel that erotic feeling between your legs. ”You gon’ tie me up, Leon?”

”Yes. You’re gonna be begging for me to stop.” He says as he lifts your arms up and ties your wrists together tightly, then ties them up to the bed frame. He looks at your body while moving down to tie your ankles the same way. You squirm a little and pout at him. ”Too tight, Lee…” You tease him.

”You can take it.” He cooed as he hovered above you, taking in your appearance. Silky nightgown with no panties under and hardened nipples peeking through the fabric. ”So gorgeous, all for me to use.”

You whine and nod as his cold fingers sneak under the hem of your dress, landing on your clit. You buck your hips up for a little sensation and he holds them down. Starting to rub circles on your clit with his cold thumb. ”Ah- Leon..” You moan as he pushes two fingers inside your wet hole. He pumps them up and down with a steady pace, pleasuring you as his thumb still rubs your clit. He studied your expression and nibbled small kisses to your neck.

”Leon! Fuck.” You whimpered as you tugged the ropes and squirmed around, the pleasure fogging your mind and your body feels so at mercy under him, tied up like this. Fuck, every little touch he gives you makes you squirm and moan.

He pulls back to leave you wanting for more, slowly he unzips your dress and reveals your naked body to him.

You squirm a little when he’s dressed and you’re naked and tied. ”Leon-hhh… please.” You whine again when you tug at the ropes. ”No baby. You have to be a good girl, got it?” He asks while lifting his shirt off of his body and hovering over you again. ”You can do that for me, can’t you, bunny? Don’t be a brat.” He says as he pecks you on your lips before they latch on to your neck again. Slowly your eyes close as his kisses reach all the most sensitive spots, wet sloppy kisses behind your ear, on your neck, collarbones, tits, the soft skin of your stomach too as you writhed under him. ”Please..touch me.” You begged. His lips kissed your hips and inner thighs, slowly moving more and more towards your pussy. ”Leon…”

”I’m gonna make you feel so good, you never have those stupid thoughts again.” He mumbles as his mouth latches on your pussy, tongue lapping at your delicious slick as he squeezed your thighs and ass. He sucked on your clit and chuckled when he heard your desperate moans. ”Ah! Oh my god! Feels so good…Leon!”

He pulls back from your heat and lifts himself up, kissing you roughly. You almost taste yourself in his kiss but that didn’t matter. His hands start untying you and you think he’s finally had enough of this punishment and is going to gently fuck you. No. He retracts from the kiss and unties your hands. ”Leon…Want your cock.” You yelp as he suddenly turns your body around, grabs your wrists and ties you down again. Now you’re on your stomach. He grabs a pillow and pushes it under your stomach and hips so that your ass is lifting up.

”Leon…hhh” You wince when his palm hits your ass, he spanked you. Your body jolts forward and your breath hitches. ”Just a hole for me, good for nothing else, you slut.” He grabs at your neck from the back and slightly chokes you while his other hand gropes your ass.

”Yes…just….your little fuck toy.” You whimper as your tongue lolls out. You feel his hard cock prod at your entrance from the back when his hands move to grip at your waist. You arch your back for him as you feel him pushing in.

”Such a tight little pussy…fucking whore. My whore.” He groans and he fully bottoms out. He starts fucking into you at full speed and your tits bounce, face in the pillow as you moan, almost screaming. ”Ah fuck! Leon! Too much…” He continues his speed and his other hand grabs your hair, pulling your head backwards while he bullies his cock inside you. ”Take it all. I’m gonna fuck you stupid so you don’t say stupid shit like that.” He says unamusedly while continuing.

”Gonna cum into you so hard.”

”I’m sorry! M’ sorry, Leon! I won’t say it again, ever. I love you…” You mewl when he starts rubbing your clit while still continuing at a fast pace. Your moans, muffled by the pillows, almost sound like crying at this point. Leon’s rhythm seems to not have stopped when his hips still rut into you, hearing sweet moans and low grunts from your boyfriend. ”Gonna breed this fucking pussy. Gonna cum so deep in you, you’ll be pregnant.”

”Ah fuck! Yes, Leon!” You moan as he starts thrusting deeper. ”That way you’ll never leave me, all filled with my cum and babies.”

”Yes! I wan’ it, Lee…”

”I love you, baby.”

Your knees feel like giving out as your arms shake and the uncontrollable wave of your orgasm washes over you. Your pussy walls clench around his dick as he holds your hips down, pushing himself so deep in you as he released a spur of hot cum in you, filling you so deep. ”Such a good girl…”

[atleastpleasetelephone]

I would KILL for more Reader pegging Elvis or humiliation kink Elvis! You write it so so soooo well 😩

A/N: Thank you so much anon! Okay I have gone heavy on the humiliation here, I hope this is not too much. I would like to draw everyone's attention to the TWs here, please do not read this if you are not interested in HEAVY sub/dom themes. This is the same pairing as leather/latex, I'd do anything and just like a girl.

Collar and leash

Pairing: Sub!Elvis x Dom!Reader

Word count: 2.4K

TWs: Strong sub/dom themes, puppy play, humiliation kink, name-calling, praise kink, baby birding/spitting, foot stuff, use of mama in a sexual context, bondage, crying, edging, watersports/piss kink, handjob.

You wake up in Elvis’ bed in Graceland for the first time in a long time. His Vegas residency has been long and arduous for both of you, and you’re relieved it’s come to an end. If for no other reason than you’re finally alone with him, rather than being surrounded by the usual throng of men. He promised you could have a nice relaxing weekend together. Relaxing means something a bit different to Elvis than it does to most people though. He’s not thinking of a nice walk in the countryside, or floating about in the pool with a cocktail. No. He’s thinking of you taking complete control of him for the day. Deciding everything, what he should wear, what he should eat, what he should say, even. In fact, it would be really pretty damn relaxing if you could also tell him what to think today. He’s looking forward to being entirely at your mercy, and honestly he doesn’t care if you’re merciful or not. 

Rolling over, you look at his face in profile, his eyes still closed. It’s hard not to just lie there staring all day, really. Quiet moments like this make you realise just how lucky you are to be the woman he’s chosen to spend his time with. You know you’re definitely not the only woman, but that doesn’t bother you. It’s just another part of the fun game you play together, where you tease him remorselessly for even speaking to another girl in your presence and he begs you for more. Today is a whole different ball game though. Today he wants to play at being submissive all day long, not just for an hour or two in bed. It’s new for both of you, but you have plenty of ideas that you’re excited to try. 

Elvis senses you staring and opens eyes with a smile. 

“Mornin’, mama.”

“Hi, baby,” you reply, moving to kiss him.

“Mmm. Can’t wait to see what ya have in store f’me today.”

You giggle, tapping him lightly on the end of the nose. “Think you’re going to like it,” you tell him, before pausing to reflect. “Well, maybe not at the time. And maybe not afterwards either. But I’m definitely going to enjoy myself!”

He giggles back, blushing as his eyes widen and he wonders just what you have planned. 

“I’ll like it if ya tell me to.”

Your eyes widen now, and you start to grin. “That's exactly the sort of attitude I’m looking for, puppy.”

“Puppy?”

Rolling over, you reach into one of the shopping bags by your bed. You’d flown home early so you could get a few things, making a final call at the pet store yesterday afternoon.

You throw the collar and leash you find there onto the bed between you. “Yes, puppy. How’d ya like to be mama’s pet?”

Elvis feels a rush of adrenaline shoot through his body as he looks down at the items and realises exactly where you’d got them from. There’s a moment where he wonders if he should back out now, before this all starts, and then you pull the covers off, exposing your naked body. 

His eyes rake over your skin, drinking you in greedily.

Your smile is wolfish.

“If you’re a good boy, mama will let you eat her for breakfast.”

***

Elvis has made you come twice with his mouth, your hand gripping the leash and pulling his face against your pussy. Now you’re sitting in bed, eating the grapefruit and toast you’d told him to get you from the kitchen, and he’s sitting on the floor quietly. His dick is red and swollen and it aches, but his brain is pleasantly empty. Just waiting for the next instruction. 

Licking your fingers clean, you put the plate on the bedside table and pick up your coffee, gulping down half of the cup before you have another idea. 

“You want coffee, puppy?”

He looks up at you and nods. “Yes please, mama.”

Beckoning him over, you tell him to open his mouth. He does as he’s told, looking up at you expectantly as you take another mouthful of liquid and lean close to his face. You squeeze his cheeks in your hand to keep his mouth open and then purse your lips, spitting the coffee into it. He swallows and then opens his mouth again, like a baby bird. 

“Good boy,” you tell him, repeating the process with another couple of mouthfuls of coffee. 

“Thank you, mama.” A little coffee dribbles down his chin. 

You smile. He is so very well-behaved. “What a good little pet you are,” you tell him. “Let’s go downstairs. Mama wants to read.”

Although the coffee thing had shocked him a little, he’d done his best not to let it show on his face. And anyway, once you’d started, he’d kinda liked it. The coffee was warm and it had the added benefit of coming from you. It wasn’t a kiss, but it was almost as good. The idea of going downstairs, on the other hand, just freaks him out completely, and he can’t hold back the little worried noise he makes as a result. What if someone knocks on the door? What if someone looks through the window and sees? 

“M-mama,” he stutters. 

You’re in the process of shrugging on a long summer dress when you hear him. It’s the first  unsolicited thing he’s said all morning. Smoothing your dress down you walk over to the mirror to adjust your hair a little. You look at his reflection behind you, sighing and pouting, sitting on his haunches with the collar and lead around his neck. You smile. 

“I hope you’re not complaining?”

“N-no,” he mumbles, lowering his head. “N-not complain’, mama.”

“Good. Because you’re just a pathetic little puppy, you know that? All you’re fit to do is follow me around and do as I say.”

Elvis whines and rubs his hands up and down his thighs, struggling with feeling all of the emotions at once. He’s uncomfortably hard but it’s strangely enjoyable, he’s scared but he wants to do what you say regardless, he feels humiliated but he loves it. Everyone else spends all of their time telling him how wonderful and talented he is and you’re there looking at him like he’s no better than the dirt on your shoe. 

“Yes mama, thank you mama.”

You smirk and turn towards him, picking up his leash and tugging on it. “C’mon then. Let’s go, puppy.”

***

Elvis sits patiently at your feet as you read. Every so often you pet him on the head, like he’s literally a dog, and he’s so starved for your touch he tries desperately to rub his face against your arm. You just laugh and go back to your book. His bright blue eyes watch your impassive expression and then go back to looking at your sooties. Eventually he’s looking at them so hard you think he might be able to bore a hole right through them. You look up at the clock on the mantelpiece. He must’ve been sitting there quietly for half an hour now. 

“Kiss mama’s feet,” you tell him. 

He doesn’t waste any time in picking up your right foot and pressing hot kisses to the toes as you move your left foot into his lap. An involuntary moan escapes his lips when you press your toes against his hard length, and his kisses start to get more frantic, moving to the sole now, tongue poking out for some exploratory licks. You’re feeling generous so you don’t tell him off for getting carried away, but then he loses it completely, sucking first on your big toes and then every other one individually. 

“Puppy,” you say, sternly. 

His eyes, previously closed in bliss, flip open and he looks very much like the boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  

“S-sorry mama,” he mumbles, putting your foot back down on the floor and looking contrite. 

You shake your head a little but hold your other foot up for him to take anyway. He does so cautiously, pressing tiny soft kisses to the top and looking up at you through the dark hair that’s fallen onto his forehead. 

“Just kisses,” you remind him, before going back to your book. 

He nods hurriedly, continuing his gentle ministrations. Once he’s finished he carefully places your foot back down and waits again for further instructions. You keep him there for a few more minutes, and then tell him that you’re both going back upstairs. Your legs need moisturising. 

***

The torture is almost unbearable. You’ve been teasing him on the bed for what seems like hours, and he’s surprised his balls haven’t actually exploded. Pulling your dress off over your head again, you look down at him, surveying your handiwork. He’s so red, his face, his big soft lips, his dick. Tears streak his face, and his body seems like it’s almost completely tense. Like one giant taut bow, ready to fire an arrow at any second, only needing a tiny touch from you. His big blue eyes stare at your body unabashedly. He wants you. You think right now he’d probably do anything just to cum. So why not test that theory? 

“Does puppy want to cum?” You ask, your hand around the leash, tugging. 

“Only if you want me to,” he whispers.

The weight of that falls on you like a ton of bricks, and you let out a little overwhelmed sigh. He’s really far gone. 

“You have to do something for me.” 

“Anythin’, mama.”

What you’re about to get him to do makes even your stomach flip, but you’ve been thinking about it for a while. Maybe you should’ve mentioned it, but he’s not that good at these kinds of conversations. It was tough enough to get what he wanted today out of him. 

Putting one knee on either side of his body, you shuffle up until you’re just below his chin. His eyes widen, obviously thinking he knows what you want. 

And then you say it. 

“Mama needs to pee.”

“W-wha-” he begins, eyes looking wild now. 

“You wanna cum?”

“Yes,” he whispers, hoarsely. 

“Open up then.”

“Y-ya… y’want me ta…” his head spins. 

You tug more firmly on his leash. “C’mon, pathetic puppy-boy. You know this is all you’re good for. Being mama’s toilet.”

“Ah-ah-I-” he’s still stuttering, trying to work out exactly what’s happening. 

“You wanna cum?” You ask, again.

He nods, dumbly. 

“Open your mouth so I can piss in it then.” Your tone is harsh and you can see the doubt on his face. Titling your head to one side, you say the next part a little more softly. “You don’t think mama’s pee would be delicious?”

Something about that sentence and the way you said it snaps him back into his completely submissive state of mind, and he just opens his mouth. You’re shocked it worked, but you’re not going to let him know that.

“Dirty little puppy,” you chide, moving so that you’re in what you hope is the right position. 

It takes a few seconds, but eventually you manage to get over some slight stage fright and a stream of pee starts to come out. You move so that it goes properly into his mouth, but bits miss and it’s running down his face like the coffee earlier. He still looks sort of shocked, but you can see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down and you realise he’s swallowing it. He’s genuinely drinking your piss so he can get his release. You're dizzy with power. You’re doing this to Elvis Presley and he’s enjoying it.

He really is enjoying it. Lying there, tied to the bed with you hovering over his face and filling his mouth with your golden nectar, he thinks to himself that you're right, your pee does taste delicious and he doesn't know why he hasn't been your toilet this whole time. He likes how warm it is, and the way it came from you. He’d probably take anything that came from you right now. 

When you eventually stop, you shuffle back to sit on his chest, rubbing the liquid on his face over his lips. 

“Pathetic,” you coo. “So desperate you drank up all my pee!”

“Yes mama,” he moans.

“And you enjoyed it too?” You grip his cheeks with one hand and shake his head from side to side. 

“Yes mama. Tasted so good.” He's blushing a little, in spite of everything.

“Disgusting,” you tell him, with a smirk, then you swing your leg over his body and move down towards his dick. 

Part of you wants to carry on your torture, give his balls another few harsh slaps at least, but the more reasonable part wins out. After all, he did just drink your piss. You give his balls one, big squeeze, and then let your hand slip around his length. He makes an inhuman noise - somewhere between a yelp and a whine - and then almost without warning he’s cumming hard, all over your hand and the bed and his thighs as he moans and moans out your name. Feeling generous, you stroke him through it, and then lie down next to him with a sigh. 

His chest is heaving, and his breath is coming in massive harsh pants. When it eventually slows down again, you grab his face so he opens his eyes, and then kiss him deeply. Part of you thinks you shouldn’t - you did use his mouth as a toilet, after all - but really you can’t help it. You want to reward him a little. He kisses you back enthusiastically, all tongue and teeth, almost like a teenager, and then you pull back and gently pat him on the cheek. 

“Good boy.”

He wriggles a little in his restraints. “Is it over, mama?”

You laugh. “Over? Puppy, it's barely the afternoon.”

He stares, uncomprehendingly. “But… ya let me cum.”

Nodding slowly, you stare deeply into his eyes. “That’s right. So now we’re going to see how good you really are.”

“What d’ya mean?”

“Now you’re going to do whatever I say, with your dick all soft. Shame you’re not so young anymore, isn’t it? Then maybe you might have a chance of cumming again.”

He whines. 

“Not really a puppy,” you tease, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “More of an old dog.”

Elvis cringes a little at the jab and you laugh, undoing the restraints and pointing at the floor.

“Now sit.”

***

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss @kxnnxy @presleyhearted @lvrdollep @nebulamorada @iloveelvis2 @18lkpeters @elvisbdoll

[noorpersona]

just read part 6 of rivals w/ atsumu…. zoo wee mama 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 ur just TEW good!!!!! jealous reader is always a fun read lol

ik u already posted an atsumu version for ur jealous series (?) but like… reverse situation where atsumu gets jealous when reader is seemingly cozying up with another guy that isn’t him in the context of rivals…. just throwin it out there hehehehehe

HEHEH THANK YOUU (i really went overboard cause UGHHHH)

I think I got what you're looking though 😩😙

Enjoy <333

--

Anon Asks: Atsumu (NSFW)

The afterparty wasn’t your scene. Not really.

The rooftop lounge glittered with low lighting and clinking glasses, soft music pulsing under conversation that ebbed and flowed like a tide. Some modern Tokyo bar—sleek and expensive, with panoramic views of the skyline and a dress code that required heels too high and smiles too sharp. It smelled like citrus spritz, fresh sweat, and ego.

You weren’t here to impress anyone. You were here for one reason only: to see him.

Atsumu had texted earlier. “Gotta wrap up post-game press, be there in a bit. Don’t let Sakusa talk shit about me too much before I arrive.”

You’d smiled at the message, slipped into your dress, and made your way to the party solo. The win had been solid—MSBY had taken it in four sets, with Atsumu playing one of his most controlled matches in recent memory. You’d seen it in his hands, the way he moved—calculated, sharp, barely restrained.

Now he was off doing damage control with a couple of reporters who liked to probe a little too far past what made it into the official soundbites. You didn’t mind. You knew the drill by now. After three years with Atsumu, patience wasn’t just a virtue—it was a requirement.

You were standing near the bar with a glass of sparkling wine when someone tapped your shoulder.

"Well damn. If it isn’t my fourth grade science partner.”

You turned, startled, before recognition settled into your chest like a stone dropping into still water.

He was taller now. Broader. The baby cheeks you remembered had been replaced by sharp cheekbones and a dimpled grin. His hair was dark and parted at the center, curling slightly at the ends, and he wore a lightweight sport coat like it was second nature.

“…Ryouta?” you asked, brows lifting.

“Bingo,” he grinned, gesturing between you both. “Still got the same face. Just—grown-up.”

You laughed before you could help it. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Work,” he said, leaning against the bar like he’d done it a hundred times. “I’m with the JVA now. Media and comms department. I’ve been helping with internal campaign stuff—athlete profiles, team outreach. It’s new, but… legit.”

“That’s wild. I haven’t seen you in—”

“Since we failed that volcano project because we couldn’t agree on what color lava actually was?” he finished, eyes twinkling.

Your smile widened. “Still think red is a cop-out.”

He laughed, the sound familiar and warm in a way that startled you. Nostalgia crept in gently, not overpowering but present enough to make the moment feel oddly suspended.

You moved off to the side together, drinks in hand, and the conversation flowed more easily than you expected. You talked about your shared elementary school, the time you got sent to detention for painting the school mascot purple, the fact that he used to cheat off your math tests until you started writing all your answers backwards just to mess with him.

He told you about how he fell into PR by accident after a marketing internship went well, how he never expected to end up in volleyball again, and how weird it was to be attending afterparties full of pro athletes he used to watch on TV.

“Can’t lie,” he said, glancing around, “you clean up scary well. I wouldn’t have recognized you if you didn’t still raise your eyebrows the same way.”

You snorted, sipping your drink. “That’s weirdly specific.”

“What can I say?” he teased. “Some things stick.”

You weren’t flirting. You knew that. And still—there was something easy about talking to someone who knew you before high school, before volleyball, before everything. Someone who saw you before you were who you were now.

You didn’t notice the way time was passing. But someone else did.

Atsumu arrived just under twenty minutes later, stepping into the lounge with the smooth confidence of someone who knew all eyes followed him when he moved. He wasn’t dressed to impress—just black slacks, an open collar, and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled neatly to the elbow. He was flushed faintly from earlier exertion, hair still damp around the temples, and his gold eyes scanned the room with habitual sharpness.

They found you immediately.

He saw the guy. Saw how you were angled slightly toward him. Saw the way you laughed—small and genuine—and the way your drink was now halfway gone.

The look on Atsumu’s face was unreadable. His expression didn’t change, not really. But his jaw flexed once, and he didn’t walk toward you.

Not yet.

He stood off to the side, hands in his pockets, posture too casual to be natural. Watching. Measuring. Waiting.

Sakusa nudged him. “That your girlfriend talking to—whoever that is?”

Atsumu didn’t answer. Just narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Oh,” Sakusa said blandly. “You’re pissed.”

Atsumu gave him a look. “No shit.”

You didn’t notice the shift in the air until it was nearly too late.

Ryouta had just finished telling you about a disastrous campaign involving an accidentally misspelled slogan on a national team ad — something that went viral for all the wrong reasons — when you felt it. That creeping pressure, like someone watching too closely. Your back straightened slightly, instinct kicking in before your mind could catch up.

You turned your head.

And there he was.

Atsumu, maybe ten feet away. Staring.

Your breath hitched — not because you were doing anything wrong, but because of the look on his face. Tense. Composed. Gold eyes too steady. You knew that version of him. It meant a storm was brewing behind his tongue.

“Tsumu,” you called softly, lifting your hand.

He didn’t wave. Just approached, slow and deliberate, like a lion that had already caught the scent.

Ryouta followed your gaze and blinked. “Oh. That’s him, huh?”

You swallowed. “Yeah.”

Atsumu stopped beside you and tilted his head slightly at Ryouta, smile tight. “Don’t think we’ve met.”

Ryouta, oblivious or bold — maybe both — extended a hand. “Ryouta. Old friend. We were in the same class forever ago.”

Atsumu shook it. Too firmly. “Atsumu. Her boyfriend.”

The silence that followed stretched just long enough to sting.

Ryouta cleared his throat. “You played a great match tonight. Your control in the second set was impressive.”

Atsumu shrugged like he didn’t care. “Guess you’re real observant, then.”

You blinked at him. “Atsumu.”

He finally looked at you.

And that’s when you saw it — the tight coil in his shoulders, the barely-contained frustration just under his skin. Not fury. Not anger. But something older. Possessive. Dangerous. Familiar.

“I should let you two catch up,” Ryouta said, stepping back. “Good to see you again.”

You nodded, exhaling slowly as he walked away.

Atsumu didn’t say a word until Ryouta disappeared into the crowd.

Then:

“You flirt like that with every old classmate or was tonight a special fuckin’ occasion?”

Your mouth parted. “Excuse me?”

“You were hangin’ off him.”

“I was not.”

“You were laughing at everything he said like it was the funniest shit you’ve ever heard.”

“Because he was funny, Atsumu. I know him. We were just catching up.”

His jaw flexed again, but his voice didn’t raise. That was worse. “He was touchin’ your arm.”

“For like two seconds—”

“He was leanin’ in like he wanted to taste your breath.”

“God, you’re being so—”

“What?” he asked, stepping closer. “Jealous? Too fuckin’ bad.”

You stared up at him, your own pulse rising. “That’s not what this is about and you know it.”

“Oh really?”

“You’re pissed because you weren’t here when I walked in. Because I wasn’t waiting by the door like some show dog for you to collect.”

His eyes narrowed. “Watch it.”

“No,” you snapped, poking a finger into his chest. “You don’t get to make me feel guilty for talking to someone you’ve never even met.”

He laughed once, bitter. “I know exactly what I saw.”

“Yeah? Then maybe next time show up when you say you will.”

That landed. He didn’t move. Just stared, breathing slow and deliberate, hands curled into fists at his sides.

You held his gaze for a beat longer, then turned sharply. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Sure,” he said under his breath. “Run off.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. You stormed away, weaving through bodies and music until you reached the far hallway where the single-occupant restrooms were tucked behind a velvet rope.

You slipped inside, locked the door, and pressed your back to it, chest rising and falling in uneven beats.

Your heart thudded beneath your ribs — from the fight, from the tension, from something else. Your hands were shaking. Not out of fear. Out of the strange electric thrill that always came from standing toe to toe with him, matching him fire for fire.

You didn’t hear the knock.

You only heard the lock twist open.

And then he was there. Filling the doorway. Chest heaving. Eyes burning.

“I wasn’t done with you,” he said.

You swallowed. “You followed me.”

“I always follow you.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to fight again, but he was already stepping forward, pressing you back against the wall with nothing but the heat of his body.

His hand landed beside your head, palm flat against the door. His other hand found your waist.

“I didn’t like it,” he said, voice low. “The way he looked at you.”

“Tough,” you said, breath catching.

“You’re mine.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

Your lips parted—but then his mouth was already on yours.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Atsumu’s mouth was already moving against yours, hot and unrelenting. There was nothing gentle about it. It was claiming—raw and messy, built from jealousy and the way you argued like you wanted to be pinned. His teeth caught your bottom lip, and your hands flew up to grip his shirt, clutching tight, like that was the only way to stay grounded.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” he muttered against your mouth. “You like gettin’ me riled up.”

“You’re insane,” you whispered back, gasping when his hand dropped to your thigh, squeezing hard.

“Tell me to stop,” he growled, already bunching up the fabric of your dress, sliding it high enough to reveal your panties.

You didn’t. Wouldn’t.

The air between you throbbed with heat and unresolved anger, with the ache of being seen and wanted so completely.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, hand cupping the back of your neck as the other slipped between your thighs. His fingers grazed the edge of your underwear, dragging the thin fabric to the side with a kind of reverent disrespect that made your stomach drop.

“You’re soaked,” he said, voice dropping lower, teasing. “And here I thought you were mad at me.”

You could barely respond, breath fluttering out in a shaky half-laugh. “Shut up.”

“Yeah?” His fingers slid through your folds, spreading slick warmth across your skin. “Thought you might be drippin’ for him for a second.”

Your head thudded lightly against the door behind you. “Don’t start.”

He chuckled darkly, and then two fingers pressed into you in a single, smooth thrust.

You gasped—sharp and sudden—gripping his arm.

His palm settled against your mound, anchoring him as he pumped his fingers slowly, deliberately, curling them just enough to make your legs quake. His eyes never left your face, watching the way your expression crumbled with every stroke, every wet sound of him moving inside you.

“That's it,” he murmured, leaning close enough to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Let me hear you.”

“We’re in a bathroom—”

“So?” His thumb began to rub slow, tight circles around your clit. “You think anyone’s gonna say shit to me?”

Your reply melted into a moan, bitten off at the edge as you buried your face in his shoulder.

His rhythm never faltered. The fingers inside you curled and stroked with practiced ease, filling you just enough to ache for more. His thumb moved in time with your breath, coaxing you toward the edge with every flick, every grind.

You clenched around him without meaning to, the pressure building fast, too fast. Every nerve in your body felt lit from within, tethered to his hand and the molten heat of his mouth against your jaw.

“You gonna come?” he whispered. “Right here with my fingers in you?”

You nodded, desperate, thighs trembling.

“Then come, baby,” he said against your ear. “Let me feel it.”

You broke.

Your moan caught in your throat as your hips bucked forward, grinding down onto his hand. The orgasm rolled through you hard, your walls fluttering around his fingers, your breath ragged as you shook against him.

He didn’t stop until you physically twitched away from the overstimulation, gasping for air. He eased his fingers out slowly, eyes on your face the whole time, like he was cataloging every little tremor.

And then—without breaking eye contact—he brought his fingers to his mouth.

Sucked them clean.

You stared, stunned, pulse still pounding in your ears.

“You gonna behave now?” he asked, cocky and breathless.

“You’re an asshole,” you said, cheeks burning.

“Yeah,” he agreed, grinning as he reached to fix your underwear, then smoothed your dress down with slow, practiced hands. “But I’m your asshole.”

You glared, but your legs were still weak, your mouth still swollen from his kisses. He fixed your hair gently, ran his thumb under your eyes to smudge away anything left behind. It was intimate in a way that undid you more than the orgasm.

He kissed your temple, hand resting low on your waist. “You ready?”

You swallowed, nodded.

He opened the bathroom door with casual ease, and you stepped out together.

The party hadn’t changed—music still thumping softly, lights still low, voices still buzzing.

But your cheeks were flushed. Your lips slightly parted. Your hair just a little mussed.

And Ryouta was standing near the bar, talking to someone from his team.

He glanced up.

Saw you.

Saw Atsumu’s hand on your hip, the way he was guiding you out like he’d already won.

Ryouta blinked. Said nothing.

Atsumu didn’t even look his way. Just leaned down and murmured in your ear, “Let’s go home.”

You followed him without a word, legs still trembling with every step.

[base0h]

HOW DO YOU NOT EVEN KNOW?

he said something awful, something he should’ve never said or thought about saying. but he said it, and now the damage was done. and he didn’t even know what he’d done, leaving you alone to reflect on the damage (feat. inarizaki! thank you for requesting this anon :)) kori, your best friend was always a mediator, but even this time she knew that you were the victim, and he was the bad guy (I get confused whenever I start using too many y/f/n and stuff like that so I just stuck my oc in here instead ✌️)

warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, s/o reader, angst, this does not have a happy ending with comfort sorry, your dialogue is in white, kori’s dialogue is in purple, kori is an oc not a canon character (click here for more info abt her)

You knew Atsumu was popular, that wasn’t a surprise. He was good looking, a talented volleyball player, and he was charismatic. What was there not to like about him?

But still. Why did it still hurt and make you agitated whenever other students would fawn over him? You knew it was bound to happen, hell— you fawn over him too as your boyfriend.

If you had to hear one more deafening squeal of his name, you’d probably lose your mind.

“Miya-kun!!”

“Miya-senpai!”

The worst part was that he always stopped and made time for them. Even when he was with you. You couldn’t lie to yourself, it hurt everytime you saw him smiling at the fans and giving them his time and attention when he probably should be giving it to you, his actual s/o.

You voiced your worries and concerns to your friend who always listened and lended her ears to you.

“I probably shouldn’t be feeling like this.. I mean he loves me right? Not the fans.” You said softly, but your tone was uncertain, you honestly weren’t sure what you were saying was true or not, and that scared you even more.

“No I think it’s pretty valid to feel like that. It ain’t fair for him to do that in front of you especially if you’re on an actual date. He should be paying attention to you, not some random fangirls or fanboys.” Kori replied, scribbling away on her tablet as she sketched and drew as she was listening and talking. Kori always drew when listening, she had a way with multitasking.

You found it funny that Kori offered such sage wisdom and support despite the girl never having been in a relationship nor having a crush on anyone. “Kori how do you always know about relationship stuff when you’ve never even been in one before?”

Kori looked up from her tablet with a slightly hurt expression. “I really didn’t need that stray comment—?”

You giggled, snickering to yourself as you reassured your friend that you were just teasing and joking around. You knew Kori was one of the sweetest human beings on earth, and you trusted her to have your back when you needed her to.

“But seriously though, you should tell him what you’re feeling. He’s so dense that I don’t think bro would know unless you tell him directly.” Kori suggested, going back to drawing. She was right, Atsumu was quite oblivious, and probably thought nothing of what he was doing since he was so used to the attention.

So you decided to gather your courage to speak to the blonde twin about your concerns. You thought that it’d go ok, maybe he’d be a bit confused, but he would comply and maybe give you a hug or a couple kisses to reassure you.

“Huh? Whaddya talkin’ about babe?”

…

What did he mean, “whaddya talkin’ about”?

You thought you worded yourself quite clearly for him to understand, you knew he wasn’t stupid or anything— at least not THAT stupid.

“So yer worried about all the other people talkin’ to me? Babe don’t worry, it ain’t like I’m kissin’ ‘em or anything.”

You felt your heart twist. Did he just— not get it? Or did he not care? Did he care about you and everyone else the same? No. That can’t be right, you were catastrophizing things.

“No that’s not— I’m just— Atsumu wait. Please listen for a second—“ you tried grabbing his arm, but he immediately pulled it away.

“I gotta go to practice y/n, ok? Can it wait till after?”

he used your name instead of a nickname.

“It’ll take like five seconds for me to explain—“

“Just leave me be y/n! Yer insecurities can’t get in the way of my practicing, nationals are coming up and you’re tellin’ me yer worried about other students talkin’ to me? Yer just as annoying and as distracting as them at this point!”

“you���re just as annoying and as distracting as them”

That sentence echoed over and over again in your mind. He didn’t really mean that right? He was just stressed because of nationals? He’d certainly apologize right?

But all you heard were his quick receding footsteps that disappeared as he walked into the gym, closing the door behind him. You were frozen there for god knows how long. It felt like a few seconds, but to bystanders and other students walking by, you looked like you’d passed out standing up.

“Uh— y/n…? You good?” A familiar voice asked, tapping your shoulder lightly. You snapped out of your daze and looked to your side where your friend Kori was, looking at you with concern and slight worry in her sleepy golden amber eyes.

You hadn’t even realized tears had pricked your eyes, which earned a silent gasp from your friend. “Whoa what happened? Did you get hurt or something??” She asked worriedly, her eyes scanning your body for any injuries. Your breath trembled as you just slumped over into Kori’s shoulder, letting out a choked sob that you didn’t know you were holding in.

Kori’s eyes were wide with concern as she hesitantly pat your back, returning the hug. She didn’t say anything or press you to explain the situation yet, she just let you cry for as long as you needed, offering tissues and water to help you calm down a bit.

After you had managed to explain what happened, Kori sighed knowingly, as if she wasn’t surprised he’d say that. “He was never the nicest dude around y/n. I’m sorry he said that to you that’s wrong.” Her tone was empathetic and gentle, and she tried her best to avoid saying anything bad about the blonde. You knew him and her weren’t on the best of terms for some reason, reasons unknown even to Kori, Atsumu just didn’t like her for some reason.

Kori did her best to try and at least distract you. You went over to her house after school and she did whatever you felt like doing. Watching TV, studying, playing games, listening to music, honestly anything she’d do to help you at least a little. You couldn’t lie it did help to distract yourself, it felt good to not think about Atsumu. It felt— freeing.

You hadn’t felt this free and light in a while. You didn’t even realize how much your worries and concerns about Atsumu’s loyalty had weighed down on you.

Ding, ding

Your phone chimed, a new text message incoming. You hoped, hoped that it would be from Atsumu. Why did you hope for that? You felt so free when you weren’t thinking about him, why did you want him to text you? Why did you still want him to be with you and spend time with you despite what he did, and how he dressed you out?

You peeked at your notifications, and sure enough, it was from him. You saw his profile picture at the beginning of the textbox, a funny weird picture which was most likely taken by Suna as he was fighting with his other half.

“Is it him?” Kori’s voice made you jump, you could never get used to how deep it was, it was kind of scary whenever she’d talk out of nowhere. You nodded, opening up your messages to see what he had said.

Tsumu: Hey where are u? Didn’t you have club today? It’s Wednesday I always meet you after school to walk you home.

Should you answer? Honestly you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to act like everything was fine. It wasn’t fine. You closed your phone, just leaving him on read as you went back to watching the TV in front of you. It was playing your favorite anime, and Kori was drawing as per usual right next to you.

“What did tweedledum say?” Kori asked curiously, her Apple Pencil scribbling and scraping against her iPad screen in a precise, sharp manner. You couldn’t help but crack a smile at Kori’s nickname for Atsumu. Kori called the twins “tweedledee and tweedledum”. You weren’t sure if she even knew their actual names still. Of course she gave Atsumu the tweedledum name because he was indeed dum(b) about 90% of the time.

“He just asked where I was. I usually stay late for club which ends at the same time as his practice so we usually walked home together. But I skipped today.” You explained as Kori hummed softly in response. Kori didn’t pry or try to bring up the subject again for the rest of the time you were at her house. She thought it would be better to just— let you not think about it too much.

She offered for you to stay over for the night, but you said no to that. But Kori was worried for you, she wanted to make sure you were ok—so she said she could walk you home at least, but you shook your head, you couldn’t make her walk you home too after all she’d done for you already. So you waved goodbye to her, saying goodbye to her mom that had just pulled in from work as well with a soft smile that was half genuine, and half fake.

One half was genuinely happy after Kori helped you out, but the other half was still stuck on that dumb blonde. You’d gotten several messages from him on both Snapchat and text.

Tsumu: hello?? Don’t just leave me on read babe wth??

Tsumu: where even are you? Are you at someone’s house??

You then jumped, shit. Your Snapchat location. You almost forgot to turn it off. You quickly opened the app and turned off your location sharing before shoving your phone back into your pocket, putting on your headphones to try and focus on something different. You blasted music on your walk home, listening to anything your shuffled playlist would give you.

It was like your playlist knew. It kept playing these sad angsty songs that you liked listening to during late nights where sleep just couldn’t find you. For the second time that day, you cried, letting out choked and uneven sobs that you once again did not know you were holding onto. You didn’t even know why you were so hurt by what he said, it’s not like he broke up with you or anything. But still— why did it hurt like he just shot you four times straight through your heart and soul?

It was as if the bullets remained, not exiting your body, but lodging themselves deeper into your torn up heart, digging deeper and farther inside of you, not having any plans of leaving you.

The only thing comforting you now were the snug fit of the soft foam ears of your headphones, and your long sleeves that couldn’t reach past your wrists, staying at an uncomfortably short length that only made you feel worse. Any little thing made everything worse. Everything was just too much. Some part of you thought maybe it would’ve been better to stay at Kori’s like she’d offered before. But you were already too far away to turn back now, you’d just have to hope that the comfort of your own home would suffice.

Osamu wasn’t as popular as his twin brother Atsumu. But that didn’t mean he was unpopular. He was just overshadowed by his twin, or as he called it, his “better half”.

It was annoying how they’d all gather around his brother, he too found it kind of disturbing and weird. However of course he felt a bit envious, insecure about his own likability and looks. Did people find his brother more attractive despite them being identical twins? But why? Was it just him?

You’d been friends with the twins for a long while now, ever since middle school, even before they had their distinguishing dyed hair. You liked Osamu better the minute you met them both. Atsumu was so brazen and confident, and he wasn’t afraid to express his high standards of his fellow players, even upperclassmen.

You found it off putting how offensive the blonde could be to people. It was irritating to be around him. Osamu was different. He was pleasant to be around. He had a sense of humor, was laid back, reserved, and friendly for the most part.

He loved food, you knew that from the first time you sat with him in middle school for lunch recess. His droopy tired eyes would widen and sparkle whenever he saw food in front of him, specifically onigiri. It was cute to you, how he’d light up and become a completely different looking person at the sight of some simple, but satiating food. It was one of the many reasons why you chose him and not anyone else.

You felt so confused and baffled that Osamu didn’t see himself the same way you did. You saw someone special, he saw someone that was second best.

You tried. You really did.

Tried to make him see that he was perfect in his own way, perfect in your eyes, perfect for you.

But there was only so much you could do. Only so much you could say. He had to choose to believe your words, and do the rest on his own. It was called self confidence for a reason after all.

Your anniversary was coming up, it’d been 2 years since you two started dating officially. You took this as an opportunity to plan something special for you and your boyfriend this year. You knew he’d been stressed lately because of the upcoming tournaments, and because his twin was putting more pressure on him than ever. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’d seen Atsumu chewing him out for accidentally missing a serve, a block, a receive, or a spike.

Every mistake he made, every single hesitation, his brother caught it and made sure Osamu knew exactly what he did wrong despite the poor gray haired twin already being well aware about what he’d done wrong. Having someone rub everything in his face was degrading and mentally exhausting.

Osamu was usually patient, you commended him for being as patient as he was with his brother. But it was taking a toll on his self esteem that was already fragile. Atsumu was basically hitting him in the same spot over and over again, not allowing the previous bruises heal before making a new one in the same area, eventually leaving a mark that won’t ever heal nor fully fade away.

But next week will be different. You’d make sure of it. You even enlisted the help from your friend to help you figure out some nice plans or ideas of what you could do with Osamu. However you knew at some point you’d have to overcome your beef with Atsumu for a moment, and ask him his thoughts. He was Osamu’s twin brother after all, he knew him better than anyone, maybe even better than you.

“You sure you gotta ask him?” Kori asked. Ugh, you didn’t want to of course. But yes, you’d have to put your dislike for his horrid personality aside for your boyfriend’s sake. You wanted your anniversary to be perfect after all.

“Can you come with me to ask him please?” You asked Kori, looking at her with pleading eyes, clasping your hands together. Kori looked at you, putting her pencil down as she sighed.

“Yeah no sorry you’re on your own.” Kori said with an apologetic expression. You let out a small groan, you knew Atsumu had some sort of beef with Kori, and Kori didn’t want to deal with a beef she didn’t even know was from.

“Oh come on please??”

“…Y/n you already know what will happen if I go with you.”

“Please Yoyo you’re my best friend—“ You tried using the nickname that usually got Kori’s attention, holding your friend’s hands with pleading eyes. If Kori went with you, you could make her ask instead of you, and if he got too exasperating to stand any longer, you’d have an excuse to leave.

Kori looked at you with a narrow and skeptical squint when you used that nickname on her.

“Don’t use that—“

“What, you don’t like it Yoyo-chan?”

“Bro.”

“I’ll stop if you come with me.”

“Nice try.”

You pouted and slapped her shoulder playfully with feigned anger as you crossed your arms over your chest with a sigh. But it couldn’t be helped, it wouldn’t be too horrible right?

“Huh? Yer asking me for help? That’s a new one.”

Ugh. It was horrible.

You covered your perturbed expression, but you couldn’t hide the sharp glare of your eyes as you tried to “fake it till you make it” as they say, and act cordial. But god, you wanted to tear off that smug looking grin off his face so badly. The tone he used was so condescending and belittling, it made you want to crush him with your bare hands, but you honestly couldn’t tell if that was just his normal tone of voice or if he was trying to sound like an egotistical asshole all the time.

Because if he was trying? He was doing an absolutely stupendous job.

“I just wanted to know— what are some of Osamu’s favorite things to do? I mean— I know what he likes but you’re his brother.. So I thought you’d know better than me.” You said, reluctantly swallowing a snarky insult you were about to accidentally say without thinking.

Atsumu scoffed and grinned at you, and you were expecting him to tease you which might’ve been your last straw, but surprisingly, he didn’t.

“Aw that’s sweet actually. I see why he loves ya so much.” You looked at him, expecting to maybe see some kind of smirk or malicious glint in his eyes, but no, he was genuinely saying that. You were pleasantly surprised, maybe this wouldn’t be too bad after all.

You felt yourself smile at the fact that Osamu had made it clear to his brother of his love for you. If even someone as dense and emotionally oblivious as Atsumu could tell, then Osamu must’ve talked about you a lot. The thought of him talking about you so much made your heart flutter, sending a rush of joy and warmth through your veins, fueling your excitement and determination to plan the upcoming special day.

As you two talked, your excitement grew with each suggestion Atsumu made. Your smile was spread wide across your face, filled with genuine adoration and anticipation from how excited you were to surprise your beloved.

However, you failed to realize that Osamu might’ve gotten spoiled early. Spoiled about the wrong thing.

He saw you, chatting with his twin with your beautiful sweet smile that melted his heart to a puddle whenever you showed him. It absolutely destroyed him to see you blessing his brother with the sight instead of him.

Osamu knew you weren’t super close with him, but it’d always been in the back of his mind.

Is he better than me? He’s probably more fun.

Am I too boring?

Am I less good looking?

Am I always gonna be known as “Atsumu’s twin brother”?

He cursed and muttered painfully to himself as he walked off, he couldn’t watch you continue smiling and talking with his better half so cheerfully. Oh if only he had heard what you were talking about, then he would understand everything.

But he left, his fragile heart and self esteem shattered to unmendable pieces of a jigsaw that would never fit back together because of its missing piece.

He felt like a waste. He truly did.

Oh but no it was the opposite of what he thought.. You were only talking to his brother so enthusiastically because you were planning something special for him.

However, things get lost in translation. Misconceptions cause one person to become blind to the truth, quick to catastrophize, making haste to blame and lock away their feelings to try and preserve what they have left to spare. For Osamu? This was probably the worst misunderstanding, worse than any other situation you’d hear about. This was worse.

Oh this was bad. You just kept smiling and talking eagerly with his brother from a distance, that's all Osamu could see. His mind made up the subject of the conversation he thought you were having with Atsumu, his mind immediately jumping to conclusions that were incorrect. Yet there you were, blissfully unaware of the accidental turmoil you’d caused your boyfriend to suffocate in. Alone. Basking with his old friend, second place.

It was the day, finally it had arrived— your anniversary! You had so many things rushing through your buzzing mind, your heart racing with the good kind of anxiety and anticipation of the day ahead. You absolutely couldn’t wait to see Osamu, you could barely contain yourself from excitement.

You found this restaurant with Kori by researching online. It was a place that specialized in making onigiri, which was an establishment run by an old married couple that had been working there for generations. Kori had said that usually these types of places had the best food, and she was certainly not wrong about that.

You knew it was his favorite, so you thought it would for sure make him happy if you took him there, right?

You were expecting to wake up with a message from Osamu, but weirdly, he didn’t, your notifications were as empty as you left them last night. You thought nothing of it, maybe he’d just been too busy this morning to text you, he’d probably just tell you in person.

With a slight skip in your step, you walked up the stairs of Inarizaki, the familiar chatter and buzzing of fellow students’ varying footsteps echoing throughout the long hallways filled with people. Your gaze searched each head, each person’s hair color registering in your mind as you scanned the area. You were searching for one with a certain shade of gray…

There he was, the one with gray hair by the lockers!

You had to push your way through some students who didn’t seem to understand that perhaps having a conversation in the middle of the hallway was inconvenient for everyone around them. But that didn’t matter right now, all that mattered was getting to your boyfriend.

“Samu! I found this super cute place that’s run by this family and they specialize in onigiri— I wanna take you there after school today ok?” Your vice was so chipper and enthusiastic, filled with adoration and love as he shut his locker door slightly harsher than normal. His gaze looked over to you, and you were immediately silenced by how cold it was. It was sharp, razor sharp, and frigid like a blizzard was raging in his dark irises.

You were confused— maybe he was just tired.. Yeah, that was probably it.

“…You ok Samu? We don’t have to go if you don’t want to I just thought that maybe you’d—“

“Why don’t ya go with Atsumu? You seemed awfully chummy with him earlier, so just go with him.” He snapped coldly. But his eyes, they looked so pained, hurt, and somber, not cold and apathetic like his tone.

And with that, he left you to drown in his quicksand-like words, his footsteps receding as he disappeared in the crowd of countless students.

If his words weren’t already enough, you were hit with the sudden realization that he had forgotten about your anniversary, the entire reason behind why you’d asked him to go with you.

What did he mean “you seemed awfully chummy with him earlier”?? What was he— oh.

Oh no.

No no no— he completely misunderstood!

You were talking with Atsumu about today and what you were planning on doing with HIM! It had nothing to do with Atsumu in the slightest!

But you knew Osamu. Too well at that. You knew that he’d be avoiding you now, avoiding you like the plague. He acted petty like that, just like his brother whom he refuses to admit is very similar to him in certain ways.

You knew he wouldn’t let you explain. But what really tore at your soul was that he didn’t even remember today was your anniversary. You had thought that maybe his lack of a “happy anniversary” message in the morning was a fluke, that he was just trying to hurry out the door to make it to school on time.

Now you knew he’d actually completely forgotten. Your throat felt so tight, your stomach hurt from guilt, but also betrayal.

Some part of you, some part of you knew this was going to happen. Or some form of this exact situation at least. You knew he felt inferior to his brother, and that it killed him inside. You’d tried your very hardest to make it so he knew you loved him and you always would choose him and no one else. But what could you do if he just wouldn’t believe your words, let alone believe in himself?

You, his s/o who he’s supposed to confide in, to trust in, to take your word over anyone else’s, didn’t trust your own words that you’d repeated so many times that you felt like a broken record.

He said he did understand and believe it, but he really didn’t. All those nods and silent “mhms” were all fake, he was never really listening. What occurred just moments ago that left you suffocating in pained silence was proof enough of that.

How many times did you have to fucking say it to him? Why were you the one that had to fix his insecurities? They were his insecurities, not yours. It’s self esteem, not your esteem. He was acting petty and jealous, and it was honestly starting to wear your patience thin.

Now that you were reflecting truthfully, you couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked to you about anything other than his stresses at practice, or his brother. It was always something negative.. you hadn’t realized how bad it wore you down.

You were constantly dumped with negative emotions, and honestly, it could be called trauma dumping at this point. It was mentally exhausting. Having to reassure him every single day of something you tried so hard to get him to believe in.

But if he still wouldn’t trust your word, why were you wasting your energy and devotion on his irreversible immaturity? Why did you have to do all the work only to receive bad news all the time and be expected to make him feel better about himself? It was making you feel bad about yourself. It was taking a toll on you.

You were basically being the positive energy for two people when it was already exhausting enough to be your own supporter.

You let out a sigh of relief, exhaling tension you didn’t know you truly had. Your mind had decided it was time for you to move on, time for you to make him figure it out on his own. He was a 2nd year student for god's sake, he was damn well old enough to fix his own issues.

However with the exhale, you felt your eyes prick with tears of hurt and betrayal from his carelessness, from his complete lack of regard for your own feelings. He had forgotten your 2 year anniversary, it wasn’t like it was on leap year or something! It was an easy date to remember!

But you assumed that he was so self consumed that perhaps his mind thought it was meaningless to remember. That you and your words were not memorable enough, nor important enough to form a lasting memory.

He was everything to you, and you were everything to him too. So why was he like this? Why was he so insecure and petty? Why didn’t he believe in what you were telling him so adamantly?

He only believed his own thoughts, his word came first. You loved him so much, but it was getting more and increasingly difficult to keep loving him unconditionally. It was an uphill battle.

And you were miserably losing.

You had no chance against his own self being the enemy. You would come in second place no matter how hard you fought because there was no first place for you to take.

You knew he wasn’t the sweetest guy around. He just wasn’t a warm and fuzzy type of person. But that didn’t mean he didn’t care about you, of course he did. You were the only one he didn’t actively search for dirt to use as blackmail material later.

He wasn’t the most warm and fuzzy person that’s for sure, but you loved him anyway. His fox-like eyes, his quiet and stoic demeanor, his tall stature, and his funny hobby of filming the twins fighting or bickering with each other to save for future references and laughs.

The team often wondered how he ended up making you, a kind, friendly, and sincere person, fall in love with him, the opposite of you. He thought about this as well, and sometimes felt guilty about the way he acted, how he was so detached and cold sometimes. Your love language being physical affection and touch combined with being Suna’s s/o was not a good synergy because he wasn’t the biggest fan of too much affection. Of course hugs, cuddles, kisses are all things he loves to give and receive. But in moderation. He got tired of it after too much.

However you did not. You could be pressed against him all day, in fact, holding his hand or being in contact every second you were with him sounded like the perfect scenario to you.

He never admitted it out loud, and didn’t plan to, but your hugs from behind his chair as he’s working on homework or studying were his favorite. The feeling of your arms wrapped around him from behind which allowed him to continue working on what was in front of him, but still allowing you to be near him, for your comforting presence be as close as possible.

Lately he’d gotten a lot of those, courtesy of the upcoming midterms. Now whenever you came over, he was always studying or working on schoolwork with his headphones on, his head leaning over and close to his desk as he worked countless hours and days, including nights. You were straying to get worried by the amount of empty energy drink cans that had accumulated on his desk, even on the top of his dresser. It was so bad that you could notice it while FaceTiming him. Not to mention the trash can underneath his desk was most likely full of them as well, just hidden from the view of the camera.

This was surely not good for him. At all.

Your mind was filled with concerned thoughts of him, worry swirling in your mind, distracting you from your own midterms that you had to study for as well. You suddenly had an idea during the peak of boredom during your math class.

You could go over to Suna’s after school, and buy you both some sort of bento box to eat. You knew Suna probably hadn’t eaten a real meal other than ice pops in days. He kept failing to realize that frozen fruity ice water in the shape of a flattened cylinder wasn’t exactly full of nutrients. Then you two could study together afterwards. Two minds working in tandem were better than two on their own. Or that’s what you thought at least.

Pulling out your phone discreetly, you texted Suna to let him know you were coming over, knowing that he probably would be on his phone right about now.

You: Hey I’m gonna come over today after school with some snacks and food, maybe we can study together?

….

Suna: yeah sure. I can’t text rn I gotta pay attention

You: oh my bad, I’ll see you after school

read at 3:32pm

You were a bit surprised that he was actively paying attention during class, especially since right about now he was most likely in AP world history. His tone even through text sounded stressed and a bit more harsh and cold than usual, but you knew he was anxious and worked up about the midterms which was absolutely valid and normal. But still, it lacked the usual hint of warmth that his texts usually had, regardless of his word choice.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of the clock, your gaze intently focused on each centimeter the second hand moved, slowly making its way around the entire circular clock on the wall, rotation after rotation. You swore the second hand moved backwards a couple times, as if time were quite literally reversing as you stared at the clock.

Your teacher’s lecture was essentially gibberish, your brain couldn’t focus on anything but the thought of going home to study and take care of your boyfriend who obviously needed the help. You were probably going to need help too from the looks of it, seeing as how you didn’t remember a single thing nor comprehend anything your teacher was saying.

RING RING

You practically fell out of your seat at the piercing ringing of the school dismissal bell. You sprung to your feet, as did everyone else, and as you were packing up your things, your teacher suddenly shouted something, his voice shouting over the commotion that had started from the bell’s relieving cry.

“Excuse me? The bell doesn’t dismiss you, I do!”

Oh for god's sakes— you wanted to take the damn bell and smack his head with it for saying that. Everyone audibly groaned, sitting back down with a synced chorus of irritated and grumpy sighs.

“Ok the homework is just studying and reviewing the accumulated material for the midterm on Thursday. You’re dismissed.”

…Are you serious?

That was it?

That was what he made you all stay for?

Oh nah god give you strength to not clock this bald, old, bitter ass, Walmart bill nye in the face with your textbook. You thought about it, seriously debating whether or not it’d be worth it. But you walked past him, deciding it wasn’t worth your time. You took a deep breath in and out, exhaling the pain of that math class as you walked with a determined look in your eyes. You had a plan.

You’d hit the convenience store on the way to Suna’s house, buy some food for the two of you, and then go over to his house to help him actually eat a normal meal, maybe clean up a bit, and then study of course.

With a fast and brisk pace, you walked into the store with a singular goal in mind, quickly picking out a couple of bentos for the both of you. Exiting the store right after you walked in, your quick pace never wavered as you made your way towards your boyfriend’s house, the plastic bag full of the food and snacks in your left hand, your bag in your right, determination in your eyes, and compassion in your heart.

As you knocked on the door, you saw the familiar face of his mom who immediately smiled upon seeing and recognizing you.

“Ah y/n, I’m so glad you’re here actually. Rintaro just got home— he’s been so quiet lately. He’s been locked up in his room everyday after school and on the weekends.. I think he’s studying but I’m a bit worried that it’s too much. The boy won’t listen to me either about drinking all those energy drinks.. maybe you’ll have better luck?”

His mom looked at you with hopeful eyes, and you smiled, nodding and reassuring her you’d try your best to help. His mom thanked you with a grateful smile, nodding as you walked up the stairs, down the familiar hallway to your boyfriend’s room.

You thought about knocking first. Should you? He was your boyfriend.. Did you really need to knock? Well it was courteous to knock before entering anyone’s do—

And suddenly the door opened for you, revealing the tall figure of Suna in front of you. His narrow, fox-like eyes droopy, tired, and strained from staring at a laptop for too long, or reading in the dark. He had faint dark circles underneath his hazel green eyes, and his hands were a bit shaky, just barely noticeable, probably from the obscene amount of caffeine he’d consumed these past few days to stay up and study. You showed him the bag full of various snacks and food with a little smile before he stepped aside, opening the for further for you to come into his room.

Your eyes widened slightly, but you stayed silent as you took in the whirlwind of disarray that was your boyfriend’s room. It looked like hurricane Katrina had ravaged his room. Empty cans everywhere, wrappers from countless ice pops, pencil and eraser shavings, crumpled up pieces of paper, and dirty clothes. It didn’t smell wonderful, that's for sure.

You saw just how exhausted he looked, how stressed and anxious he was. He never usually studied this hard for school, in fact— you’d never really seen him studying much at all. Midterms plus the stress of the upcoming volleyball qualifying tournaments were probably weighing down on him more than he could handle. You looked at him with a worried and sorry look on your face as you watched him eat his bento in silence.

He did not utter a single word, not a hello, not a how are you, just nothing but the silence and the sounds of chewing. It was awkward for you to say the least. So you decided to break this uncomfortable silence, trying to bring up a more light hearted topic to hopefully bring some light to his dark room.

“So.. Anything new and funny happen with the twins?”

You knew he liked to leave the twins to fight and bicker without stopping them because it was fun to film their brawls. He could care less about them hurting each other by accident, it was entertaining to watch them fight. He didn’t respond, he simply kept chewing, his eyes lost in thought as they stared at the ground with nothing but a vacant empty iris with no color or hue. It was like all the color was sucked out of his eyes, and it was starting to take his skin too. He was getting paler as you sat and stared at him!

Maybe he didn’t hear you, so you repeated yourself a second time, not noticing how the moment you started speaking, his fists clenched and trembled as he gripped his pant legs.

“Rin?? Can you hear m—“

“God y/n can you shut the hell up please?!” He snapped, his fist slamming against the hardwood floor, making the house shake just slightly, making you jump in surprise and shock. Your eyes were wide, searching his gaze for a hint of guilt or remorse, maybe he was just stressed and overstimulated?

But his eyes were ice cold, filled with irritation and frustration, not a hint of remorse in them. Did.. did he really mean that?

Surely he didn’t.

No he didn’t, right?

…Right?

“S-sorry..” You couldn’t help but stutter a bit, taken aback by his sudden outburst. He continued eating in silence, you could practically feel his frustration and stress seething off of him like smoke. You purse your lips together, struggling to not release your tears.

You knew it wasn’t all that bad, but still, it hurt to hear him say that to you. You knew it wasn’t supposed to make you feel this horrible, but it did. No amount of convincing yourself it wasn’t that bad of a sentence would take away or lessen the pain it gave you.

About 39 minutes of dead silence followed, and you got up, taking all the empty cans and containers scattered across his room and sticking it all into a trash bag, tying it up and leaving it by his door for him to take out later. You decided that maybe it would be best to leave him alone, and grabbed your things, opening the door to leave, glancing back at your boyfriend who was studying, wearing his headphones. You wanted to say goodbye, you wanted to say you loved him and to not push itself too far. Most of all, you wanted to hear him say that he loved you. But judging from earlier, he probably wouldn’t even want to hear your voice at all.

“See you later Suna.” You muttered under your breath, closing the door behind you as you left. Did he even realize you were leaving? He didn’t even look up from his desk. He didn’t thank you for the food. He didn’t thank you for cleaning up. He didn’t thank you for trying to help him. Nothing you did was acknowledged. You went out of your way to help him, and it appeared that maybe that wasn’t the right thing to do.

You quietly walked down the steps, opening the front door and closing it behind you.

With your back against the wall, hidden from Suna’s family, that’s when you began to feel tears welling up in your eyes, falling down your cheeks as you hid your face in your sleeves. Why were you crying? Was the stress of the midterms catching up to you too? Or was it purely because of his outburst?

You didn’t know. Hell— you didn’t know anything did you? Obviously not it seemed.

a/n - idk why but I’m in a very angsty mood 😂 I’m sorry for hurting you guys I really am 😭😭😭

[sugrhigh]

FIRST OF MANY - ( m.s )

REQUESTED**

summary- you and matt have been dating for over a month now, and you’ve never had sex. his curiosity gets the best of him while you’re watching a romcom, and you find out he’s actually a virgin.

warnings- swearing, virgin!matt, technically unprotected sex, smut at the end (lmk if i missed shit)

virgin!matt x fem!reader

a/n: this is my first req that i’ve ever done, so THANK U TO THE ANON WHO LEFT IT i hope it lives up to your expectations ❤️ if u have ideas drop them in my inbox ! all da love

there is literally nothing matt likes more than spending the night in with his girlfriend, as corny as it might sound. it’s been well over a month of dating now, and he still can’t get enough of you.

the warmth of your body is comforting as you lay beside him on the sofa, dressed down in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. he has one steady arm wrapped around your shoulder so he can hold you against his chest.

he breathes you in as his fingers skim absentmindedly up and down your exposed bicep, a familiar mixture of laundry detergent and citrus shampoo.

“that feels nice.” you mumble into his shirt, eyes still glued to the tv.

you’re forcing him to watch friends with benefits, since he picked the last movie and you were in dire need of a romcom fix. it’s one of your favorites, mainly because you loved mila kunis so much in that 70s show.

it’s only been on for roughly thirty minutes, but matt’s been enjoying it way more than he expected considering this genre is not his norm. he’s even let out a couple laughs at the scripted jokes.

the main characters are in bed together again, rolling around as they banter back and forth about sleeping with each other. it sparks a fire of curiosity inside of him as he continues to stare at the screen.

“is this really what it’s like?” he asks without thinking, and he immediately regrets his words as you tilt your head to look up at him curiously.

“what, the sex? don’t act like you don’t know.” you say, playfully smacking him with the back of your hand.

matt isn't sure why he brought it up, but he figures now is as good a time as any to have this dreadful conversation.

“how could i know if i’ve never done it?”

he feels you tense up slightly under his arm, which scares him. the last thing he wants you to think is that he’s some sort of loser. he just hadn’t found anyone that he really wanted to be intimate with before he met you.

it’s not like you guys don’t fool around sometimes. he’s perfectly capable of using both his hands and his mouth; this is a fact you’ve been made well aware of.

you two just haven’t gone all the way yet, especially considering you hardly ever get real alone time together.

“you don’t have to lie about the girls you’ve been with just because we’re dating now.” you finally respond, quieter than before.

“oh my god, i’m telling the truth, so please don’t make me say it again.” he can’t look at you anymore, because he’s too embarrassed.

this makes you fully sit up in shock, no longer focused on the premise of the film. he can feel you staring at the side of his beet red face, clearly confused by this revelation.

“wait, are you seriously telling me that you’re a virgin?” you question.

matt glances back at you and crosses his arms defensively, because it suddenly feels like he’s under attack. “you’re making me seem like a freak or something.”

he watches your eyes soften as you put a tentative hand on his shoulder, trying to let him know that you weren’t making fun of him.

“shit, i’m sorry, i swear i didn’t mean it like that. it’s just…really surprising, that’s all.”

“surprising how?”

you pull your lips between your teeth, exhaling through your nose as you try and find the right words.

“well we’ve done stuff before, and you were just naturally good at it, so i assumed you’d learned from hooking up with other people. and i know girls must have liked you with a face like that.”

this boosts his ego, and he’s already in a much better mood knowing he’s at least made you feel good in the past. that doesn’t mean he’s not still terrified, but he’s a little more confident than he was before.

“nope, not really. you’re the only one i’ve ever done that kind of thing with, aside from a little making out.” matt admits with a shrug.

your lips part, and it’s making you feel all fluttery.

“wow.”

he smiles a little bit. “i don’t know what that means.”

“it doesn’t mean anything really. i’ve only had sex a few times, and it doesn’t change anything either way.” you move your hand up and down his arm a little bit.

the tv plays in the background, and your mind flits to his original question.

“are you curious? is that why you asked?” you tilt you head toward the screen, though you keep your focus on him.

his eyes go a little wide, and the feeling of your hand on his arm suddenly becomes overwhelming.

“yeah, i—uh, i guess i am.” matt stumbles over his words, and your fingers travel higher to run through his hair slowly.

“you don’t have to be nervous. you can ask me anything you want, i’m not gonna judge.” you say softly.

your fingernails raking along his scalp makes him shudder slightly, a response that you both enjoy.

“i’m…more of a hands-on learner.” he rasps.

you let your fingers travel to rest on the back of his neck, drawing him in for a soft kiss. it’s short and sweet, and his eyelids flutter a bit as you pull away.

“what do you want to do?”

he pauses for a moment before deciding to give in and say what’s on his mind. “nick and chris aren’t home. maybe we should go to my room?”

you grin, nodding your head like you’re in a trance. you’re both trying to hide your giddiness as you scramble off of the couch, carelessly tossing the blankets aside.

you can feel him staring at your ass as you lead him through the hall, and he gives it a little smack of appreciation.

“matthew sturniolo!” you laugh, turning the doorknob to his bedroom.

it greets you warmly, and you always love it because the whole place smells like him. the overhead light is off; it’s just the singular lamp casting warm rays across the mattress.

“couldn’t help it.” he says, smile prominent in his tone as he locks the door behind you.

you slow to a stop at the foot of his bed, and he stands at your side, hand intertwined in yours. it makes your heart swell as he admires you with those charming eyes.

“are you sure? we really don’t have to, there’s no rush.” you squeeze his palm reassuringly.

matt lets go just so he can hold your head, kissing you hard as an answer. you literally can’t help but beam into his lips, and you put one hand on his chest to push him against his silk sheets.

he falls onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows so he can keep looking at you. you crawl on top of him, slowly settling on his hips.

he sucks in a shaky breath as you shift against him to get comfortable. you can feel matt growing harder beneath you as you lean down to give him another swift kiss, letting his mouth melt against yours.

then you move to his earlobe, pressing your lips to the hollow part of his neck. you swipe your tongue against his skin, biting down just a bit so you can suck on the area slightly.

he groans, laying down now so he can move his hands to grip your ass, pushing you against him harder to feel a little more friction. the thin material of your sweatpants doesn’t hide a whole lot, and he’s straining against you now.

“you’re so cute, baby.” you say against his skin, and his hands go to the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up over your hips.

you lift your hands from his chest so he can fully remove it, leaving you in your stretchy black bralette.

“god, you’re unreal.” he breathes, and you guide his palms to cup each of your breasts, still rocking against him slightly as you straddle him.

you can feel him squeeze your nipples between his middle and pointer fingers, whimpering below you as he starts to get worked up. you’re growing wet by the second, the delicious feeling of his clothed dick rubbing against you sending shocks of satisfaction right to your core.

“do you wanna keep going?” you ask, just to make sure he’s still on board.

“please.” he begs.

you move his shirt up his chest, and matt sits just high enough to rip it over his head. you trace the tattoos on his arm faintly, trailing a finger down the center of his stomach till you hit the waistline of his sweats.

“you’re terrifying.” he smiles as you slip your hand under the band of his boxers, slowly scratching the area gently.

“why?” you ask.

he grabs your waist and flips you so you’re the one on your back, feet hanging over the edge of the bed as he stands.

“because everything you do is perfect.” he says, and this time he’s the one that goes to your pants, grabbing the soft material and looking at you for permission.

“that is so not true.” you grin as you lift yourself up to help him.

he strips them off your legs and tosses them away blindly, so you’re left in your matching thong. the spandex-like material hugs your sides, the last layer standing between what you both truly want.

“i mean look at you.” he sounds dumbfounded as he gazes at your body, and you feel your face flush from the attention.

“trust me, i’m the one who’s punching.” you reply as he strips down to his boxers, dick clearly pressing against the plaid cloth. you’ve seen it before, on two occasions to be exact.

both of those experiences were great, and you didn’t know that was the first time a girl had ever given him head. now you know this is the first time he’s having sex, and even though it’s not the same for you, you’re still a bit nervous.

matt’s a little above average, and the last and only person you’ve ever done it with is your ex, so it’s been a minute. even so, you’re so enthralled with your boyfriend that you can’t help but pulse in excitement.

he pushes your legs apart with his palms, and air rushes across the wet spot that’s already formed over your panties. two fingers press against the fabric covering your heat, which shocks a gasp out of you. he moves them in a little circular pattern, applying more pressure so he can really feel you.

“love your fingers,” you rock with his pace, speaking through a moan, “but i wanna make you feel good too.”

“oh, okay. so i should…” he stops his motions to go for his own underwear, finally sliding them down so his hard length springs free.

you’re already working your own bottoms down your thighs, and he finishes the job for you once his hands are free.

“do you have a condom?”

“uh, shit…” you can tell by the solemn look that crosses his face that he doesn’t, and you let out a short laugh.

“it’s okay, it’s alright, i’m on birth control. we’ll be more prepared next time.”

his eyebrows shoot up before he can help it. next time. just the confirmation that this will happen again makes him disgustingly happy.

you wiggle up on the bed a little bit, so he has enough room to hover on top of you. he leans down a few more inches to give you a kiss, and you can tell he’s unsure what to do next, so you take control.

“don’t put it inside yet, just slide it against me a few times.” you try and instruct, and he follows well, dragging the base of his shaft up and down your wet cunt.

you let out a little noise of pleasure, and he wants to save it as a sound bite in his memory.

“okay, slowly, go ahead.” you say after a few more seconds spent enjoying the feeling, and both of you make sure he’s lined up properly.

matt looks you in the eye as he pushes inside, taking his time as you adjust bit by bit. he lets out a moan when he’s fully filling you up, shocked by how fucking amazing you feel.

you know he’s stretching you out, but the small pinpricks of pain subside as you get situated.

“you can start moving now, just keep it gentle at first.” you guide him, voice all choked up.

he nods, his long hair almost tickling your forehead as he starts to pump in and out at a leisurely pace. you’re both groaning messes, and your hands go to claw at his back as he keeps pace.

“fuck, you’re doing so well matt.” you mutter against his chest, pressing open-mouth kisses to his collarbone.

he’s getting into it now, finding a good rhythm and relaxing his hips slightly so he’s not as stiff. your bodies are molded together as you move back and forth, and matt can feel you clutching against his cock with each stroke.

“m’not gonna last much longer, angel.” he confesses, clumsily stumbling over his words as he tries to calm himself down, to keep it in just a bit longer.

“that’s okay, babe. tonight is all about you.”

he’s growing sloppier, and matt leans in to kiss you passionately as he gets closer and closer. surprisingly enough, you can feel the pressure building in your own stomach, and you’re both whining into each others mouths as your tongues mesh together.

“right there baby, i’m close too.” you breathe, and you can feel his body trembling against yours, one hand slipping underneath your bra so he can run his thumb over your nipple.

matt holds it all back, drilling into you as hard as he possibly can with the energy he has left. he loves the way you’re scratching at his back, pulling him as close as possible as you both reach your peak.

“i’m—fuck, oh my god.” he tenses up, and you feel him twitch inside of you as he comes undone.

his own reaction is what sends you over the edge, and you ease into the high, letting yourself finish all over him as he slows to a stop.

“yes, matt, holy shit.” you sigh, and he pulls out carefully moments later.

matt flops down beside you, rolling to press his lips to your cheek. you turn your head slightly to look at him, capturing his mouth with yours for another real kiss.

“i think i could get used to that.” he says with a small grin as he pulls away, and your ruffle his hair lightheartedly.

“lucky for you that was just the first time of many. so how was it?” you ask him.

he’s just opening his mouth when a loud pounding erupts on the door, and you both nearly jump out of your skin at the disturbance.

“hey! open the fucking door, we brought you guys mcdonald’s!” chris screams through the barrier.

you both look at each other, still grinning, and matt can’t help but roll his eyes.

“well, being alone was nice while it lasted.”

[fredswrite]

Hi i was wondering if i could request a luke castellan x reader football and cheerleader au where he has a crush on reader and its really pure and hes head over heels but hes insecure cuz shes a popular cheerleader and hes not as big or strong as the other football players but eventually reader finds out from the other cheerleaders that he likes her and she shows him pretty boys are just as good as buff like butch boys (pls let this make sense 😭) and theres pegging and sub/bottom with fluff and lots of teasing? If not totally just delete this and have a great day 🙂

A/N: YES YES AND YES, I’m sorry I lost the ask anon, but it’s here now! I can just imagine him blushing like crazy and arghhsjis

WC: 0.9k

WARNING: pegging, sub/bottom, overstimulation, smut! MDNI!! YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION.

MLST

CHEERLEADER DREAM

"Luke Castellan? Are you kidding me?" You asked your friend as you prepared for the representation before the football game.

"I’m not! He’s literally head over heels for you. He can’t keep his eyes off you!" She pointed towards the football team where he stood still alongside the other players, his helmet in his hand and his gaze fixated on the cheerleaders, on you.

When he noticed how you observed his demeanor, he quickly looked away as his cheeks took a red tone. You smirked at him, he may not have been the strongest boy out here, but he sure was handsome.

"Maybe you’re right…" You looked back at her for a second, your grin evident on your face.

"Damn right, I am." She let out a laugh and you couldn't help but look back at Luke. It somehow never hit you that he was thinking of you that way, but now, everything made sense.

You heard a whistle being blown, signaling that the cheer team was about to represent their school. Being in your school backyard, it was up to yours to start.

Each time you had the chance too, you’d catch glances with Luke in the background, looking at you as if you were made by the gods. You yelled, alongside your teammates, the same monologue about the football team name followed by the cheers and the applause of the crowd.

Some of the players clapped their hands, mainly because their girlfriends were in the team and they didn’t want to create any problems by not encouraging them.

About two and a half hours later, the game came to an end your school winning 27 to 13. People cheered and laughed together and that’s when you had an idea. You walked towards Luke, playing with your hair as you circled with your fingers.

"Hey." You said, displaying that smile he was crazy for on your face.

He looked behind him, thinking you were speaking to someone else. When he noticed you were really talking to him, his face went red.

"Are you talking to me?" He asked, pointing his finger to his chest.

"Course I am, you were good today." You chuckled, your hand going to give him a gentle pat on the shoulder. It might have been weird for a first time talking but you only live once.

"Hm… thanks." He blushed.

You smiled hoping to get that reaction out of him. "Me and my friends are going to my house for some sort of party, some of the guys from the team as well, would you like to join?"

Half lie. You were going to your house indeed, but your friends weren’t. You just needed an excuse to get him alone. "Yeah, yeah I’ll come." He smiled softly.

"Great! Do you need a ride?" You questioned with a smirk.

He actually didn’t need one, but he wouldn’t lose his only chance to speak to you. "Sure!"

You walked alongside each other as you went to your car. It was a good brand, but not overly expensive. "Hope in."

The car ride was filled with the low tune of the raid and the exchange you’ll had from time to time. It was only a matter of time before you got him all spread up in your bed.

Once you arrived at your house, what was his surprise to see that it was as silent as a mouse? There wasn’t any party going on. "Weird, I guess we got there first." You told him and he smiled. No one was supposed to come anyway, but he didn’t have to know that.

"I don’t mind, we can stay only us two." He mentally cursed at himself for snapping so easily.

Who knew that was gonna get him on all four, ass up, a plastic dick in between his cheeks. His head fell on the pillow as you slammed from behind.

"Who knew you were into this shit huh?" You chuckled, your hands going to his curls to press his head back up a little bit.

"Please…" He mumbled, how cute was it?

"Please what, pretty boy? Use your words."

"Faster…"

"That’s what I thought." You chuckled, doing as he asked. He was so pathetic, yet you loved it. Maybe that was just some hookup for you, but on the other side, Luke was in Heaven.

He would do anything just to have you with him. And if that meant getting pegged, he would gladly agree to it.

While pounding on his back, you threw kisses all over his sweat-stained back, leaving lipstick stain. He moaned and grinned against you, edging himself to that sweet release.

"Are you close?" You teased as you stopped moving completely. He let a gasp at the sudden loss of contact, arching his back.

"Why did… you stop?"He asked, breathlessly.

"Luke… look at me." He twisted his head over his shoulder making it seem harder than it needed to be.

"Hm?"

"Good boy… Now stay like that while I fuck you."

[fiapartridge]

wedding bells | quinn hughes

summary: in which y/n and her fiancé, quinn hughes, plan their long-awaited wedding.

request: [...i read invisible string...and it made me think of when they’re actually engaged and planning their wedding...quinn would love cake tasting and picking out the menu...and the bride loves planning the wedding but...[it's] stressful and she wants everything to be perfect. some minor thing goes wrong and she has a bridezilla breakdown moment and quinn is so sweet and calms her down...]

author's note 💌: eeee i love this request!!!! thank u anon for requesting; it's so cute!

cake tasting

“I’ve been waiting for this day since the moment I learned this existed,” Quinn beamed, his eyes fixed on the road as he exited the freeway. His right hand rested gently on your thigh, and you couldn’t help but grin, happy that he finally wanted to be involved in a part of the wedding planning process—even if today was all about cake.

With a playful tilt of your head, a mock tsk of disapproval escaped your lips as Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be eating healthy for your game next week? How about I eat the cake and you watch.”

“And watch you live out my dream?” he scoffed. “Yeah, the game’s not that important.”

“That game is gonna secure your spot in the playoffs, Captain,” you smirked, playfully poking his arm. You loved teasing him about his captaincy, like saying Aye aye, Captain whenever he asked you for a favor, or your personal fave, So when does the team give you your honorary eye patch and silver hooky thingy? To which he always responds with, Not that kind of captain, babe. 

As Quinn pulled into the bakery’s parking lot, he cupped your cheeks in his hand, his face growing serious, feeling almost like a team huddle. His voice lowered, and his face drew close to yours as he laid out some sort of plan. “I’m gonna eat a lot of cake today, so much that I wore my stretchy pants-”

“Oh, the Lululemon ones that I bought you?” You got them for him as a Christmas gift along with other items. You were happy that he actually wore them outside the house for once. 

“Yes those ones, but we need to stay focused.” You nodded intently, totally focused. “Jack is gonna call you later and he’s gonna ask you if I ate any of this cake today, and I’m gonna need you to lie.”

A burst of laughter escaped you. “You want me to lie to Jacky? About you eating cake? During our cake tasting? Because…”

“Because him and Luke have a bet going on that I’m gonna break my diet for this, and Luke said that if he wins we’re splitting the cash 50/50, so I really need you to lie, baby.”

Rolling your eyes, you opened the passenger door, Quinn doing the same on his side. “I really don’t understand you guys. Like, why not just be normal and bet on who’s winning the next Super Bowl or something?”

Quinn wrapped around the front of the car, intertwining his fingers with yours as you approached the bakery’s entrance. “Did that a few years ago, we each lost $700 to Luke.”

“Jesus, you guys are loaded. The last time my family and I had a bet, we each did $10 and whatever old gift card we had stowed away in our wallets. Apparently mine was from 2015 and the place it was for got shut down for rat poisoning? I don’t know,” you shrugged.

As the hours passed and the 20th cake flavor came around, Quinn felt like his stretchy pants were out of stretch, and you felt like you could take a nap right on top of the table. Cakes were not for the weak, let me tell you that.

“I feel like everything tastes the same now,” Quinn struggled to get the words out. Not because he didn’t know what to say, but because he was trying not to heave and talk at the same time. 

“I feel like I can’t feel my legs,” you replied, a visible food baby proudly displayed on your belly.

Dipping your finger into the frosting of the pink champagne cake, guaranteed to be the most fanciest cake you’ve ever had, you swiped it across Quinn’s nose. “Oops,” you grinned. “I’m just so full; I must’ve twitched or something.”

Rolling his eyes, Quinn smeared the orange creamsicle cake across your face, as if you were donning eye black and dodging defenders past the 40-yard line.

“Oh, you’re getting it,” you laughed, swiping a finger across the blueberry with graham cracker crumble, a grandma’s dying wish, planting strokes on his chin and forehead. “Aw, don’t you look cute?” you teased.

He smirked, getting impossibly close. It was good that the wedding planner and cake baker were in another room chatting, or else they would probably be yelling at you two to get your hands off each other at once. “Wanna make a bet?”

“Hm, does it involve me losing thousands of dollars?” He shook his head. “Hundreds?” Another shake. “Any money?” One more. “Then you’re on, pretty boy. What’s your proposition?”

“We leave right now and you can lick all of this off in the car-”

“Amy!” you shouted for your wedding planner as she came stumbling into the room, afraid something was wrong. “We have to go; family emergency,” you pouted, really selling it. “I’ll see you next weekend, okay?”

“Oh, yeah, okay!” she nodded. “Take care of the family!”

“Will do!” you shouted, dragging Quinn behind you as if you were Lightning McQueen in any of the Cars movies. Boy, were you quick. Even Quinn was shook and he skated with some of the fastest hockey players around. 

“I win,” Quinn whispered, his lips pressed to the crown of your head as you reached the car, pushing him inside. 

“Yeah? Kinda seems like I’m the winner.”

the wedding rehearsal

“Oh, don’t you flower girls look cute?” you smiled, drawing your knees to your chest as you bent down to meet them eye-level. “You ready to walk the runway?”

“Daddy said this was a wedding,” Ella, your brother’s daughter, shyly replied, playing with a couple of petals in the basket. 

“Wedding shmedding,” you grinned, earning giggles from the little ones. “Think of it as a runway, and you’re the models.”

“What about,” Grace, Brady and Emma’s daughter piped up, “it’s a runway and I’m the airplane?”

“Oh,” you said, eyes widening a bit before breaking into a giggle.

“That works too! Just don’t be afraid, okay? If it makes you two feel any better, Uncle Jacky has to walk the aisle and he can barely skate on two feet.”

“Hey!” Jack popped out of the line forming behind the three of you, a procession of earthy-toned dresses and black-and-white suits ready to rehearse for the big day. The sight made you want to cry. Everyone you ever cared about was here for you and Quinn, for your big day. 

It brought you back to the moment you met Quinn, the moment your life truly began. You were friends with Emma, having met in college at Boston University where you also met Brady. You had just gotten out of a year-long relationship and were stressed over midterms, so Emma suggested that you get a “sex-tox” — a detox involving, well, sex. It sounded perfect at the time. Fuck a stranger, never see them again, release some stress, and live your best life.

But that’s kind of hard to do when that stranger is Quinn Hughes. You fell in love with him the moment Brady introduced you. Maybe it was the way his hand lingered in yours for a just a second longer than what’s considered a “normal” handshake, or maybe it was the way his eyes followed you throughout the bar like he was scared that you would come back to the table with another guy’s arm draped over your shoulder, or maybe it was the way he said your name, like it was made for his lips and his voice.

He was just so perfect and now you were marrying him. It all felt so much like a dream, like you’ll wake up one day and everything will be gone. But when you see Quinn laughing with his groomsmen, his eyes immediately finding yours, his arms flying around your body, hundreds of whistles and hoots coming from everyone around you as you tuned them out, your attention solely placed on the man you’ll be able to call your husband as little as tomorrow, you know that this is real, and he is yours, and this is peace.

the wedding day

This is a disaster. The centerpiece flowers are sky blue instead of columbia, your grandma wants to trade seats with William Nylander because she has this newfound obsession with Mitch Marner which would put William Nylander with your grandpa and the weird uncle that always gets way too drunk at weddings but will never admit that he has an alcohol problem, chalking it up to a “one time thing.” Even though we all know that he’s gonna do it again at the next wedding! And to top the shit-cake that is this day, your wedding planner decided to be selfish and break her water overnight, so now she’s in the hospital trying to push a tiny human out of her uterus while you’re here trying not to physically strangle every single person that comes to you with a question.

You were tired, and nervous, and your makeup looks terrible, and you feel bloated, and you don’t feel pretty enough to walk down that aisle, and you don’t feel pretty enough to be with Quinn, and why would he want to be with a girl that can’t even plan her own damn wedding correctly? And you just feel…defeated. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Luke bounced through the door of your bridal suite, his hand hovering over his eyes. 

“You don’t have to cover your eyes, Luke, you’re not the groom,” you muttered, fiddling with the ends of your hair.

“Right,” he chuckled nervously. “Um, so there’s a problem.” 

You closed your eyes, sighing. You felt like your head might explode. What else are we going to add to this ginormous shit storm of a day? Let me guess, Cole already got shit-faced at the mini bar, or Nico got lost on the way here and that car held Jesper, Holtz, and Dougie, or oh! Did your brother get into conversation with Trevor on how he can perfect his alley-oop if he substituted Milano with him? Seriously, what else can get worse than this?

“We can’t find Quinn.”

You’re gonna throw up. Are you already throwing up? Because there’s this tingly feeling that’s bubbling in your throat, and you don’t know if it’s from the copious amount of champagne you consumed last night or the urge to find Quinn and murder him with your bare hands. I think it’s the latter.

Before Luke could say anything else, you dashed towards the door, his calls fading behind you. You didn’t know if you were running to find Quinn or to escape this hell hole for yourself. Maybe Quinn was onto something. Maybe this was a bad idea. I mean, were you that naive to believe that someone like Quinn would actually want to marry someone like you?

With your shoes discarded, you found solace on a rock overlooking a small lake near the venue. Your once pristine white gown was now engulfed in the grass, your disheveled hair was poking out of its metal claw clip,  your mascara was noticeably smudged, and the tears wouldn’t stop streaming down your face no matter how hard you tried to stop it. You were nervous about the wedding, but I guess it doesn’t matter anymore since the groom is apparently missing and nothing else is working out. Ha! Now they don’t even have a bride. This is terrific.

With crunching leaves, you heard a small, “Hey,” behind you.

You turned slowly to find Quinn, the man of the hour, finally present. You didn’t say anything, fearing that your words would come out with a choke. You couldn’t stop crying.

Quinn settled down on the rock next to you. “I’m sorry for leaving like that, I just—had to clear my head for a bit. I’m a little nervous.”

“Are you getting cold feet?” you mumbled, scared to hear his answer. You knew he loved you, but you also knew that he would put people’s feelings way above his own. You didn’t want to marry him if he was having doubts.

He shook his head. “No.” His hands found yours amid the puffiness of your dress. “I don’t have a single doubt in my mind that you’re the woman I want to marry.”

“So why-”

“There’s like 300 people out there waiting to see us get married, and Jack’s already talking about us having a kid in the next couple months, and—it’s a lot, you know? You?”

You furrowed your brows. “Me, what?”

“Getting cold feet?”

You shook your head. “I’m tired,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I feel like everything’s going wrong today. Amy’s out having a baby, the flowers are the wrong shade of blue, Grandma wants to sit next to Mitch Marner, I thought you left, and-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Quinn cupped your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs, just as he has done time and time before. The gesture never fails to give you a sense of comfort. “Years from now, when we’re old and living in a house in the suburbs, and you’ll probably have an orange tabby cat on your lap, and we’ll be telling stories to our grandchildren about our wedding day, we’re not gonna remember the color of the flowers, or who sat next to Marner, or any of that, okay?”

You nodded.

“We’re gonna remember you and me. We’re gonna remember how much I love you. And we’re probably gonna remember us sitting on rocks, stalling our own wedding day.”

A giggle escaped you because this was all so ridiculous. Quinn was right; you’re not gonna remember everything that went wrong. You and Quinn—that’s all that matters.

You pressed a long, innocent, and probably salty kiss on his lips. He saw you in your wedding dress, a superstitious hockey player breaking a centuries-long superstition, but for once, you didn’t care. 

“You ready to get married?” Quinn grinned, holding his hand out to you. 

You nodded, taking his hand. “I’m ready.”