#mixed-tag-team entrance

[tiza0925]

Like Honey | 18+

Warnings/Tags: nsfw, afab/female!reader, alcohol, tipsy!reader, squirting, pussy eating, multiple orgasms, pussy drunk!Sakusa, overstimulation, praise kink, bit of pussy slapping ♡ SET IN A TIMELINE WHERE ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED-UP AND OVER 18

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Female Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Kiyoomi Sakusa hates parties. 

Too many people. 

Too loud. 

Too many germs. 

It’s why he almost always declines to go to one whenever the rest of the MSBY team invites him along. 

Parties in any shape and form make him uncomfortable, to be honest. 

But what Sakusa hates more than parties themselves—is the idea of you going to one on your own without him there. 

Not that he doesn’t trust you. 

But it’s that he knows how volleyball players are at parties—especially when there’s a pretty girl and alcohol is involved. 

Hence, the reason why he finds himself at a house party tonight that Atsumu invited the two of you to—while he stands away from everyone else, mask on, and holding a drink that he’s taken maybe one or two sips from. 

Not because he wants to but—

But because there you are—in the crowd, giggling and drinking with a few other people—and he watches with a level of affection, only ever giving any other guy who even dares to touch you a single look that causes the hairs at the back of their neck to rise. 

He talks to a few friends here and there, laughs, and takes another drink to loosen up as much as he’s willing to allow himself, but his eyes remain on you—

Almost protective. 

He raises a brow when he notices you walking over to him—but all you do is grin, eyes droopy, as your lower lip gets pinched under your top teeth, and—

Oh. 

He lets out a huff of breath filled with amusement when he sees you bat your lashes at him, giving him a certain look that he knows too well whenever you have alcohol in your system. 

A look of want—need—with your eyes so murky with desire that if you looked at any other man like that, they’d probably take you to the nearest surface to bend you over and—

Well, you get the point. 

Sakusa turns to face you—looking down at you with a tease in his voice. “The alcohol already gotten to that pretty little brain of yours?” 

Your eyes grow alight with want, and your cheeks flush as you get closer to him to wrap your arms around his waist—and a pout adorns your red lips. “I’m only a little tipsy.” 

That’s a lie. 

He can see that right away with how foggy your eyes are and how red your cheeks are. 

You’re more than just a little tipsy. 

Not that he minds, though. 

In fact, he’s letting out a breath of relief as he holds you back with one arm, the other still holding his drink, and he lowers his head so only you can hear him—his voice coming out a low rumble, “Let’s go then, love.” 

Because whenever you’re like this—it gives him an excuse to leave. 

To go home and take care of you in a way that he knows what you need right now. 

You nod, eager, excitement shooting up your nerves as he guides you through crowds of people—him saying bye to those he gives a shit about, and—

And that’s how, about an hour later, you end up back at his apartment—his bedroom door locked—as your body sinks into his plush mattress, one of your hands carding through his silk-softened hair that’s nestled between your thighs. 

“Fuck—”

You suck in a shaky breath as a flat tongue runs from your entrance to your clit, and you whine as Sakusa hooks his arms under your thighs to bring your pussy flush against his mouth—his mask thrown off somewhere in the midst of you two kissing so deeply on your way here—and he spits on your clit, making your cunt pulse. 

“You’re always so wet when you drink,” Sakusa groans against you, his mouth covering your entire pussy as his jaw goes to work, sucking and eating you out like he's starved. 

Just the way you like it when you’re this tipsy—the alcohol making you pleasantly warm, mixed with how his tongue and mouth feel on you.

It’s like you’re drowning in a pool of liquid heat as he makes out with your cunt, his tongue dipping in and running through your pillowy folds, and all you can do is lay there and take it with your toes curling and your fingers digging in his hair. 

It’s funny when you really think about it.

One would think that he—of all people—would be against this. 

Grossed out by it, even. 

But he’s the complete opposite with you in bed and behind closed doors.

He’s fucking dirty—uncaring of how messy he gets as your fluids gush onto his face as he fucks you with his tongue, eating your pussy and licking your clit like it’s honey. 

He even likes it more when you’re fucking yourself back—riding his face—making his eyes roll back, eyebrows furrowed, and a groan being muffled against your soft pussy. 

He doesn’t care about the way his chin gets drenched from your juices—not when it means he can hear you moan so pretty for him, and feel your plush thighs squeeze around his head. 

He’s so intoxicated by having his hot tongue in your cunt that he finds himself growing light-headed—his bulge growing and pre-cum leaking against his sweatpants as he licks and licks until you’re cumming on his tongue, moaning his name as you buck your hips into his face. 

“Oh god—Omi, ‘ts too much now—”

He hears you. 

Loud and clear. 

But he doesn’t stop. 

He doesn’t stop giving your poor, puffy little clit kitten licks as your cry from overstimulation. 

He doesn’t stop holding onto your thighs right where they are—keeping your pussy close to his mouth so he can lap you up, not wanting to waste a single drop of your fluids drooling everywhere. 

“You’re okay,” His voice is rough, and his eyes move up to look at your body—taking in the way your chest is rising and falling with quick breaths, your nipples are hard and waiting to also be sucked on—and he gives your sopping cunt one long, wide glide of his wet tongue from bottom to top. “Just give me one more, baby. Just one.” 

Instead, it’s never only one more. 

Once he’s in this position with his stomach flat on the bed and comfortably lying in between your legs—

Sakusa doesn’t intend to stop anytime soon. 

You taste too fucking good.

You feel too warm. 

And you sound so damn needy and pretty for him.

You whine, a sob escaping you, and you shake your head. “Omi—please—”

But then your words die with a gasp when you feel him nip the curve of the skin of where your cunt and inner thigh meet—and you let out a ragged exhale, his voice thick and smooth as he kisses your thigh. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” You feel so dizzy from the heat that you throw an arm over your forehead, panting as you feel two of his fingers strum your dripping folds before spreading them apart, glistening and throbbing. “You know I can’t help it.” 

He doesn’t let you say anything else, though. 

Not when he immediately dives back in to prod his tongue into your tight walls, flexing and curling it to bring you back to that hot, buzzing ache in your belly. 

And he keeps your folds open for him to get drunk on—sucking and licking and nipping while his nose bumps against your clit, feeling his hairs tickle your thighs as he gets you to orgasm again. 

And again. 

And again—

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Omi!” 

He gets his tongue all worked up, mouth open and thumb rubbing your swollen clit until you’re cumming for the fourth time like this—fluids squirting on his face as your abused and soaked cunt spasms, his name on your tongue as you cry, and he drinks it all up like he’s needy for your taste. 

“Such a good pussy, baby,” Sakusa sucks on your clit with obscene suction noises, making tears stream down your cheeks as a few more spurts of liquid squirt out of you—you’re so fucking overstimulated—and his face is a mess at this point, too. 

When he eventually does pull away—his lips are swollen and shiny—you don’t even have it in you to force your limbs to move anymore. 

You’re so fucked out and he hasn’t even put his cock inside you yet.

“You took it all so well for me.” 

Sakusa looks down at your body—so sweet and perfect—and he can’t help but smile at the little mess he’s made between your legs. 

He then unties the strings to his sweatpants as he sits back on his knees, his dick throbbing to feel your pussy swallow him, and once his thick cock bounces free—

He gives your pussy a slap—his palm against it with a harsh sting—making you whimper, then cups his hand over you as some way to soothe your tired cunt. 

“I just need you to lie there and be pretty for me now, okay baby?” 

end.

Masterpost

[saintobio]

*๑♡՞ i, spy.

pairings. sylus, fem!reader tags. 1.5k wc, mild angst, suggestive ending, jealousy, petnames as usual (kitten, sweetie, baby doll), alcohol consumption, sylus being annoying lmao, loosely inspired by his immobilized memory

sylus can be very petty when he wants to be.

today’s weather was beyond freezing, and the view of the icy mountains in the arctic region stood tall over the hotel grounds where the hunter’s association team-building event was taking place. you had spent the entire day engaged in activities with your team, enjoying every moment, and your laughter mingling with the cheerful atmosphere. it had been awhile since you last went on a snowboarding trip with the rest of your hunter friends, so this day brought about just the perfect quality time to boost camaraderie amongst your team. 

unbeknownst to you, sylus, who had also chosen to stay at the same hotel, was watching from a distance. his red eyes, usually cold and calculating, were now burning with an intensity fueled by jealousy. you had been spending time with xavier, your interactions light and full of warmth, and sylus could barely contain his frustration as he saw how your colleague brought you hot chocolate and used his palms to warm your cheeks.

“tch.” sylus absently swirled his glass of whiskey, the ice making a faint clink as he observed you from the balcony of his room. “seems like a stray kitten has found a new companion.”

then, as the evening arrived, your group gathered for dinner and you were happily chatting with your team, completely unaware of the storm brewing behind the scenes (aka by a certain tall man with grayish hair and crimson eyes). the rest of your hunter friends eventually headed back to their own rooms after finishing their meals, while a couple others chose to spend more time at the hotel bar. your activity of choice for the night was also the latter, telling xavier that it was okay for him to head back to his room knowing how he had been fighting the drowsiness off for the last hour. 

meanwhile, sylus soon made his entrance at the bar, accompanied by a striking woman whose presence was impossible to ignore. her outfit was dazzling, and she seemed to be following sylus’s every command like a pet.

impossible! you thought, eyes widening in panic as soon as you saw the onychinus leader. if your hunter friends found out that the n109 boss was here, this hotel would turn into a battlefield in a heartbeat.  

yet sylus, completely unfazed, walked over to your area in the bar counter with the woman by his side. his smirk was barely concealed as he approached you. “i didn’t expect to see you here, kitten,” he said, his voice smooth and dripping with subtle menace. “i brought a friend along.”

you looked up, your heart sinking as you took in the sight of sylus’s companion. she was effortlessly glamorous with her sleek blonde hair and exquisite fur jacket, her every movement seemingly calculated to draw attention. however, despite her overflowing gorgeous exterior, sylus’s gaze was fixed on you. and the asshole was watching your reaction with an almost predatory intensity.

“oh, sylus,” you said in an attempt to sound casual. “what a surprise.”

“oh, certainly, kitten. and by the way, this is elara,” sylus introduced, gesturing to the woman beside him. “she’s been kind enough to accompany me this evening.”

elara gave you a warm smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. her partner, on the other hand, seemed to revel in the way her presence unsettled you as he took a seat next to her, deliberately placing her between the two of you. “nice to meet you!” 

“likewise,” you replied, shaking her hand and forcing a smile. 

“care to join us, miss hunter?” sylus said with a smirk, his eyes glinting as he watched you hesitate. his arm was draped casually around elara’s shoulders, and the sight made your stomach churn with a strange mix of envy and frustration. “elara and i are just about to get some drinks.”

“join us, please!” the woman next to him encouraged.

“uh, sure.” pressured by the situation, you gave a subtle nod, only to receive a gleam of satisfaction in sylus’s eyes.

this bastard! you didn’t like how his hand was lingering on her arm in a way that was meant to be seen. each laugh they shared, each touch, seemed designed to push you further into a pit of jealousy. and the way stupid sylus kept glancing at you, gauging your reaction, only made the situation more unbearable. that’s it, you silently snickered in your head, i should call him stupid sylus. 

you forced yourself to focus on your blue raspberry cocktail, trying to ignore sylus’s stupid blabbering while rushing to finish your drink. his actions were a blatant attempt to make you feel inferior, and it was working. it was definitely working. but you couldn’t lose your composure now despite him making sure to lavish attention on elara. every time he touched her back and her waist, you felt a pang of jealousy growing more and more intense by the second. it didn’t help that sylus’s presence was also a constant reminder of the way he could manipulate your emotions, and it was driving you to the edge.

“so,” sylus tapped his fingers on the counter, his voice low and intentionally provocative, “how’s your evening been, miss hunter?”

“fine,” you replied tersely, trying to mask the irritation and hurt simmering beneath the surface.

“just fine?” sylus asked, his smirk widening. “i thought you were enjoying yourself today. seeing you with your colleague was quite… interesting.”

“if you’re referring to xav—” you paused, remembering that xavier had a bounty in his head at the n109 zone and it was best to keep him out of conversations with sylus, so you decided to change the topic, “did you have mephisto report all my activities to you again?” 

him and his equally stupid bird. so annoying. 

“there’s no need for that, sweetie. you stick out like a sore thumb, so you’re not that difficult to spot.” he smiled as he talked, like he was having so much fun at mocking you. oh, he’s deliberately pushing my buttons! his actions were a cruel game meant to make you question your feelings and your place in his life. 

before you could retort, elara suddenly tugged his sleeve, focusing all of his misrouted attention back to her. “honey,” she spoke to him sweetly, “what drink do you recommend i should get next?” 

you rolled your eyes and turned away, the old man playing the piano now a much more interesting sight to look at compared to the two lovey-dovey couple next to you. but really, it was suffocating to be anywhere near sylus, and the only way to stop feeling all of these crazy emotions swirling inside of you was to not be around him. 

and so with that, finally, after what felt like an eternity, you excused yourself. but the walk back to your room was quickly interrupted by the figure of a six foot two man, his towering height preventing you from taking another step without his permission. “where do you think you’re going, kitten?” he asked, noticing the sourness in your expression that you tried so hard to conceal. 

“heading back,” you merely responded, trying to find an escape by pointing towards the opposite direction. “look over there, isn’t that luke and kieran?”

as soon as sylus turned his head, you made a swift beeline for the bar’s exit. you even sighed of relief as you managed to free yourself from his presence, now making your way through the empty halls of the hotel. unfortunately for you, sylus wasn’t one to let something like this go. so before you could even think of hiding and running away, he was already walking next to you—the frown on his face growing more pronounced as he grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the nearby elevator. 

“let go—!” you protested, wiggling your hands from his tight hold. “where ‘re you taking me?”

“my suite,” he muttered, pressing the button to the top most floor. “sleep in my room tonight.” 

you let out a loud, sardonic chuckle. “says who?” 

sylus, crossing his arms, looked at you with thin, furrowed brows. “your only choice is to obey me, kitten.” 

an exasperated sigh escaped your lips. “isn’t elara supposed to be with you?” you questioned, “you should bring her to your room, not me!” 

it was too late. because no matter how much you struggled against his iron grip, you were later pushed inside his presidential suite, the grandiose of his room stupefying you. the smell of red roses and wine was a relaxing aroma that continued to pull you inside. yet, before you can take another step, sylus was already pulling you by the waist, leaning in to crash his lips onto yours. 

at first you tried to push him off, but who were you kidding here? of course, you’d eventually melt into the kiss, allowing him to envelop his lips around yours, its soft and tender movements sending shivers down your spine. each kiss was a loud smooch echoing across the room.

“were you jealous?” he asked in a low voice, biting your lower lip and pulling only slightly away. “i don’t have that kind of relationship with elara. she’s just a staff member of mine that i asked to make you jealous.” 

“okay, and?” you frowned at his handsome face, hating how easily he could get under your skin. literally and figuratively. “the way you were still touching her was…” 

“your jealousy is showing, sweetie.” a smile of mischief crept up on sylus’s lips before he extended a hand to squeeze your ass. “and what about the way your male colleague doted on you all day, hm? had fun being treated like a princess by him?” 

“why do you care?” you asked, trying to sound indifferent despite the ticklish kisses he was trailing along your neck. “it’s none of your business who i talk to.”

“oh, it is my business, baby doll.” sylus’s smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered, now unbuttoning his shirt and suggesting a very rough night ahead. “because i care about what i have. and right now, that’s you.”

[meazalykov]

mystery

barcelona femeni x lena oberdorf x reader

the team finds out about your potential relationship at the same time as everyone else

the chill of december bites at your skin as you step off the plane, a light fog of condensation forming with each exhale. 

cairo airport is filled with activity, a stark contrast to the quiet ache in your chest from leaving barcelona behind for the break. everyone else scattered to their families..alexia to her parents, mapi to her sisters.. ingrid tagging along with mapi.

however, you made a different choice. you texted lena as soon as the winter schedule was released, your fingers shaking with equal parts nerves and excitement as you hit send. her response had been almost immediate: 

yes, come to me.

the cab ride to the german resort in egypt feels longer than it is, the traffic weaving around you in a rhythm you can’t quite predict. your mind drifts to her…how her voice sounded over the phone just the night before, soft and inviting despite her latest recovery session. 

you remember the way she laughed when you told her you’d packed her favorite chocolate from spain, calling you “extra” with a playful tease. 

when you finally step into the lobby, obi is already waiting with lea. she stands near the entrance, her dark shirt hanging loosely on her body, her hair tied back in a simple ponytail. 

obi’s eyes light up the second they meet yours, a warmth there that makes the entire journey feel worth it. she doesn’t move right away..her lips curl into that familiar smile, the one that always tugs at something deep inside your chest, and then she steps forward. 

“you’re here,” she says, as if she needs to convince herself this isn’t just another late-night call or grainy video chat. 

“i’m here,” you echo, your voice quieter, carrying all the weight of missing her and finally seeing her again. 

she pulls you into her arms before you can say anything else, her grip firm but tender, as though she’s afraid you might disappear if she holds too tightly. the scent of her shampoo..something citrusy and sharp..mixes with the faint chill on her skin, and you close your eyes, melting into the familiarity of her embrace. 

obi’s hands trace soothing lines along your lower back, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades. it’s just you and her, breathing each other in.

“you must be exhausted,” she says when she pulls back slightly, her hands still resting on your shoulders. obi’s eyes scan your face like she’s memorizing every detail all over again. 

“i’ve had worse travel days,” you joke, but lena shakes her head, her lips quirking in mild disapproval. 

“you never let me take care of you,” she mutters, almost to herself, before lacing her fingers with yours and tugging you toward the elevator. 

“no hey for me?” lea jokes. 

“how could i forget about my favorite person here!” you laugh, pulling lea into a tight hug.

“hey!” lena says which gets a good laugh out of lea and you.

the ride up to obi’s room is quiet, save for the faint hum of holiday music filtering through the speakers. lena leans against the wall, her thumb absently brushing over your knuckles. 

you don’t say much..it’s a comfortable silence, the kind that comes with knowing someone so intimately that words aren’t always necessary. 

once inside the room, lena drops her small bag near the small table and immediately turns to you. she’s always been like this…direct, unguarded when it’s just the two of you. she steps closer, her hands finding your cheeks, her thumbs brushing lightly over your skin. 

“you’re really here,” she whispers, and this time it sounds more like a confession, a quiet marvel at the reality of it. 

“of course i am,” you reply, your voice steady even though your heart is racing under her gaze. 

“you think i’d spend with anyone else?” 

obi’s smile softens, and she presses a kiss to your forehead before resting her own against it. 

“you have no idea how much i’ve missed you.”

you think you do. you’ve felt it in every passing day since the last time she came to barcelona to see you, when you had to say goodbye in the quiet of your apartment, neither of you wanting to let go. you feel it now, in the way her hands linger on you like she’s trying to make up for lost time. 

“probably as much as i’ve missed you,” you say, and it earns you that laugh…the low, melodic one that makes your chest feel impossibly full. 

“impossible,” she teases, before finally pulling away just enough to guide you to the bed. 

you lay down cuddling with her for a brief moment before you have to go outside for more activities. the both of you talk lightly, just discussing things that maybe you guys didn’t on the phone. 

she mentions lea and kathi’s terrible jokes during her recovery sessions. there’s a tenderness in her voice whenever she talks about her friends, and you’re grateful her friends has been there for her during the times you couldn’t be since you played in barcelona. 

after a night out, where lena djs with her friends while you just sit with lea by the bars in support.. you feel the exhaustion from the trip begin to creep in, but lena seems to notice before you can say anything. 

she nudges you gently, her arm wrapping around your shoulders as she takes you back to your shared hotel room. 

“sleep,” she murmurs, her voice low and soothing. 

“i will still be here, i am just going to the bathroom to get unready.” 

maybe five minutes later.. you feel yourself getting pulled into her arms, in this secret little world you’ve built together in egypt while the time lasts. 

throughout the next week in egypt felt like a dream. the kind of dream you never wanted to wake up from or escape. you and lena spent days exploring, stealing moments for yourselves, surrounded by her closest friends. 

the most thrilling part of it all? riding dune buggies across the sprawling sands. the powerful machines roared as you navigated the uneven terrain, the wind whipping against your face as lena rode beside you, grinning like a kid who just found her favorite candy.

somewhere in the golden expanse of the desert, lea insisted on capturing photos of everyone. lena was her usual reluctant self, but you? you were feeling the sun on your skin, the freedom in the air. 

when lea aimed the camera your way, she didn’t even have to ask you to stand still when you started walking so you had your own individual pictures. 

the timing of the pictures couldn’t have been more perfect..your hair moved gently in the breeze, and the sunlight painted your skin with a radiant glow, setting you apart from the vast golden orange backdrop of sand. 

“oh wow this one’s stunning,” lea grinned, showing the screen to lena first. obi’s eyes lingered on the image a moment longer than necessary, a small, almost imperceptible smile pulling at her lips before she nodded.

“you’re posting that, right?” lena asked, her tone teasing but edged with sincerity. 

you did. how could you not? it was the kind of picture that didn’t come around often. within minutes, your feed was getting notifications. 

what you didn’t expect was for some eagle eyed fans to piece together that lena and lea had posted stories from the exact same desert in the same hour. while neither of them appeared in your photo, the connection was made…three high-profile football players in the same place, at the same time?

the internet was quick to notice. 

still, everything was manageable. until lena, in true lena fashion, decided to break the silence. obi’s comment on your post was simple, direct: 

hot

that one word sent shockwaves through your notifications. 

suddenly, the noise grew louder. fans were scrambling for answers, dissecting every post and interaction…or lack thereof. you and lena had never made a habit of commenting on each other’s photos, not publicly, at least. 

sure, you liked her posts, and she liked yours, but it was subtle. this? this was anything but subtle. you were not mad at lena, in fact, you kind of enjoyed that people were starting to know about this.

the first text came late that night. your phone buzzed on the nightstand as you lay beside lena, who was lazily scrolling through her own notifications. 

ingrid. 

ingrid: what are you doing in egypt with obi? 

ingrid: nothing wrong! i didn’t think that you guys even knew of each other

you stared at the screen for a moment, debating your response. lena noticed, leaning over to catch a glimpse of her old wolfsburg teammate texting you. 

“are you going to answer her?” she asked, her voice calm but curious. 

“not yet,” you murmured, locking the phone and setting it back down. lena chuckled, pressing a kiss to your lips before tossing your phone to the side.

the texts didn’t stop there. by morning, your phone was flooded…alexia, salma, frido, ewa. all of them had the same question: 

alexia: what's going on? 

ewa: i see you guys 😏😏 

salma: so what are you doing in egypttt!??? 😏😏🤨

fridolina: since when did you and obi start dating? 

later, lena posted her slideshow on instagram. a collection of moments from the trip since its your last day here: the sunset over the desert, the group at dinner, her in the pool. 

however, it was the last photo that threw everything into chaos. the picture was taken by the dj booth, all of you in one frame. lea stood between phil and fridolin, and lena stood on fridolin’s other side. 

there you were, at the end, lena’s arm draped comfortably around your shoulders, your head leaning against hers. 

the comments exploded. 

HELLO???

wait… are they together?! 

obi and y/n?? since when?? 

HOW DID WE NOT SEE THIS COMING?!

THE HARD LAUNCH OKAYYY

lena smirked at the influx of attention, but you could feel the tension brewing in your phone as it buzzed relentlessly on the table. by now, the barcelona group chat was probably in flames. 

you could picture alexia starting her own mini investigation, salma and frido laughing at the absurdity, and ewa typing out a flurry of messages just to be nosey about her old teammate and new teammate being together. 

“they’re not going to let this go, you know,” lena said, her tone light as she scrolled through her own growing list of missed calls and texts from her bayern teammates like kathi, tuva, and georgia. 

“i know,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. 

“but we’ll figure it out when we get back. you to munich, me to barcelona.”

lena smiled, pulling you closer. 

“as long as i have my beautiful sexy girlfriend, then i am okay.” 

you giggled. 

back in barcelona, a week after you and obi left egypt.. the locker room is quiet as you push the door open, though the quiet feels almost… staged. 

your footsteps echo slightly as you step in, and the moment you glance up, you realize why. every single one of your teammates is staring at you, arms crossed, smirks plastered across their faces like they’ve been waiting for this exact moment.

“so,” vicky starts, leaning against her locker with the kind of casual confidence that spells trouble. 

“how was egypt with your new girlfriend?”

you roll your eyes, already regretting every decision that led to this. 

“good morning to you too,” you mutter, heading straight for your locker, hoping and praying that they’ll let it slide. 

they won’t.

salma snickers as she moves to sit beside your locker, her grin way too wide. 

“you’re not even going to deny it, are you?”

“what’s there to deny?” you sigh, pulling off your hoodie and grabbing your training shirt. your hands move a little quicker than usual, like if you’re dressed fast enough, they might lose interest. 

they don’t.

“what’s there to deny?” ewa repeats, feigning shock. 

“you’ve been secretly dating obi, and you think we’re just going to let that slide without asking questions?”

you groan internally but keep your face calm, pulling your shirt over your head and starting on your socks. 

“it’s not a secret anymore, is it?” you reply, your tone steady, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrays you.

“how long?” ewa presses, leaning forward. 

“and don’t even think about lying.”

you glance up at her, then at the rest of the team, who are all waiting, some sitting on the benches, others leaning against lockers, every single one of them focused on you.

 alexia, standing near the door, raises an eyebrow as if to say, you might as well tell them.

“four months,” you say finally, your voice even. 

the reaction is instant. gasps, laughter, and a mix of disbelief ripple through the room.

“four months?” frido exclaims. 

“and you didn’t tell anyone? not even us?”

“i told esmee,” you admit, earning a collective groan from the group.

esmee turns her head away from the team, hoping to not become the center of the teasing since she didn’t spill your secret. 

salma throws her hands up dramatically. 

“esmee doesn’t count. she’s your best friend here.”

you shake your head, tying your laces as you prepare for the next wave of teasing. 

“obi and i wanted to keep it private for a while,” you explain, keeping your voice calm despite the heat rising to your cheeks. 

“it’s long-distance. clearly since she plays at bayern. we wanted to make sure it worked before people started asking questions or… making assumptions.”

that quiets them for a moment, and alexia nods slightly, her expression softening. 

“that makes sense,” she says, her tone understanding. 

“it’s a lot of pressure, especially with both of you playing in different places.”

you give her a small, grateful smile before aitana pipes up. 

“but you’re terrible at keeping secrets, you know that, right?” 

the whole room erupts in laughter, and even you can’t help but join in. 

“apparently,” you admit, grabbing your water bottle and heading toward the door. 

“hey, for what it’s worth,” vicky calls out as you reach the exit, 

“you make a cute couple. but don’t think this means we’re done teasing you.” 

you roll your eyes but grin despite yourself. 

“i wouldn’t expect anything less.” 

masterlist

[cupidsworstcrime]

uh... dont know if i should tag this as

Johnny x reader,

Price x reader,

or tf-141 x reader.....

inspo - @goatgoesmbe

contains non con wife sharing , non con groping

You arrived at the base with a smile on your face, holding a warm lunch bag in hand, excited to see your husband. Price always made it a point to keep you involved in his world, even when he was away on missions, and you appreciated the little things—like bringing him lunch.

But as you approached the entrance, the last thing you expected was a sergeant stopping you, blocking your path. He was tall, broad-shouldered, wearing that smug grin that felt off. It didn’t take long for him to give you that all-too-familiar look, sizing you up like some piece of prey.

“Hold up, mam,” he said, his voice dripping with authority. He stood too close, his eyes flicking over your dress as he cleared his throat. “I’ll need to do a quick pa' down. Procedure, y’know?”

You froze for a moment. Something about the way he looked at you had your stomach twisting, but you held your ground. Standing still wasn’t difficult. His hands roamed over you, too deliberate, the pressure against your chest, the slow slide of his fingers down your legs.

He’s a bit too thorough, hands running over your chest first, lingering a little too long. You feel your skin heat up at his touch, but you keep your cool, not letting it show. His hands slide lower, over the smooth fabric of your dress, feeling the contours of your body like he’s looking for something more than just an innocent bag check.

You stand still, not saying anything at first, as his hands roam a bit further—down your legs, fingers brushing against the inside of your thighs in ways that make your stomach twist with a mix of confusion and irritation. He doesn’t seem to care, grinning up at you with that same cocky smirk that gets under your skin. The whole thing feels like an invasion, and you want to slap his hands away, but you stay silent.

When he was finally done, you couldn’t help but feel your skin crawl. You gave him a tight smile, barely holding it together. “Can you point me to my husband’s office? Captain Price?” you asked, voice steady despite everything.

The sergeant didn’t seem to care at all. In fact, he shrugged, like this was some kind of casual exchange. "Yeah, yeah, jus' head down the hall, turn left. You'll find him. Don’t be shy, hen." He didn’t seem concerned by your question or your tone.

How could you know that your sweet husband, John Price, shared everything with his team? How would you know the photos, the videos, the audios of your intimate moments—those personal things you thought were just for him, just for the two of you—had made their way through his men. How could you know that they all had personal Polaroids of you naked and peacefully asleep tucked in their gear?

The moment you walked into Price’s office, you couldn’t hide the frustration that had built up in your chest. You knew you needed to talk to him about what happened.

You set the lunch on the desk, your fingers gripping the edge as you took a breath. Price looked up, a warm smile on his face, as he walked over to greet you. But you couldn't ignore the sting of what you'd just endured, and you needed to voice it.

"My love," you began, your voice steady but still tinged with frustration. "A sergeant stopped me at the entrance. He gave me a full pat down—his hands were all over me. I mean, he had no business feeling me up like that." You paused for a second, rubbing your arms as you recalled how his hands had lingered. "Tall guy, Mohawk, stupid grin on his face... He had no fucking reason to touch me like that."

You saw John’s jaw twitch as you spoke, his eyes narrowing. But he didn’t seem angry—at least not in the way you expected. Instead, he let out a low chuckle and shook his head, rolling his eyes as if this was just another day.

“If Soap wanted to feel ya, he could’ve asked me first,” he muttered, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

[yeosbbm]

Mine, All Mine

starring: idol! seonghwa x long distance gf! fem reader

genre: straight up smut, established relationship, possessiveness

summary: basically seonghwas been on tour and you finally see him and y’all SMASH !

warnings: barely any plot or dialogue, seonghwa is possessive, indirect dom - sub dynamic, breeding, face sitting, unprotected piv + riding, breast play, slight overstim

A/N: Something short and sweet also I opened up my request and ask question thing so if y’all have anything you’d like to ask/ask for y’all can go ahead and use it, also I might do a social/face reveal

You and Seonghwa haven’t seen each other in so long. So long being…three weeks. There are couples that go months apart even YEARS, but you know you weren’t the strongest soldier.

Since he’s been on tour you two have facetimed as often as possible, texting whenever you have the time to, send each other cute/funny vids you two like to cheer each other up about the separation. But there’s needs you two have that can only be resolved in person.

Physically…emotionally….sexually…I mean come on you two can only have phone sex for so many times.

However luckily…..you got a plane ticket to their next destination. As well as their managers agreeing with you tagging along as long as you don’t make a scene or attention to yourself whilst with them.

You joined the group with a team dinner at a restaurant. Sat next to Seonghwa you listen in and occasionally bring your own two cents into the conversation. However, there’s a problem in the mix. Seonghwa is already feeling so possessive and in need of your attention since it’s been so long, but Wooyoung and San haven’t made it better.

“You look absolutely gorgeous tonight by the way (y/n).” San says staring at your dress.

“Thank you San I appreciate it, Hwa bought me this dress.” You reply smiling at Seonghwa.

Wooyoung’s gaze is caught on your figure as well but he shifts his eyes to everyone else so he isn’t caught ogling.. “Yea she looks good enough to eat doesn’t she.”

Hongjoong steps on his foot under the table. “Manners Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung bites his lip avoiding yelping at the pain. “Yea my bad just got a little carried away.” He says strained.

San unfortunately adds fuel to the fire. “Just a shame you got to her first Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa gives a pained smile and sucks his teeth before his grip on your thigh tightens. Uh oh. While the guys are back chattering to each other about something he leans into your ear. “You really do look good enough to eat…wait till we get to the Hotel.”

You squeeze your thighs together and harshly swallow at his words. Despite what just left his mouth..Seonghwa is all smiles and giggling at the table.

————————

After dinner, the group was doing a YouTube live in Hongjoong’s hotel room. Well, minus Seonghwa. The boys were talking about the performance as well as the sight seeing they’ve been doing during this time.

Then they notice the comments questioning Hwa’s absence.

Hongjoong adjusts his glasses before saying “Ooh concerning Seonghwa….we all went to a restaurant with our staff and he told us he didn’t feel well after eating so he’s currently resting in his hotel room.”

Yunho chimes in “Wish a speedy recovery for Seonghwa please !”

Little do they know….Seonghwa was really having you sit on his face. Making you press all your weight onto him, not letting you lift your hips up in the slightest.

His tongue made its way back in forth on your slit. Starting with it circling and lightly dipping into your drenched entrance while his tongue trails its way to your clit…flicking and rubbing the tip of his tongue right on your pearl. His arms are wrapped around your thighs holding you in place.

“So sweet for me baby…” He mumbles against your folds before fully bring his tongue into your hole. Rolling and waving it inside. This makes you tense in pleasure, your hips attempting to lift up to ease the intensity but his grip keeps it from happening. He needs to see you squirm more, he goes back to your clit and sucks and slurps at it with no mercy. Mindlessly you’re grinding across his mouth. “Hwa I’m so close..fuck please please please.”

You don’t know exactly what you’re pleading for knowing he won’t deny your release. Or maybe you were just pleading for the release itself “Cum for me…cover my face with it..make a mess .” You rock on his tongue quickly before your legs spasm. Moaning and letting out signs of relief. Naturally…your hips rise up…but to your surprise Seonghwa brings you right back down.

You gasp in shock feeling Hwa wriggle his tongue across your cunt again. Slightly nodding his head to add to the stimulation. “‘S so much Hwa.”

He smiles against your cunt before tongue fucking you. Soon he takes his thumb and relentlessly toys with your clit. You’re shaking, your abdomen tense. Seonghwa is just staring intently as you fall apart. Your hips try to lift but he’s pressing you farther into his mouth. You cum again,,legs now jelly,,,cunt throbbing especially with Seonghwa lightly licking the last bits of arousal you left behind for him. You’re minds in a haze, a stuck dumb state until you feel Seonghwa scoot up under you..

You can feel the hot oozing tip of his cock rub against your already sensitive heat. You rock your hips again, needing him to satiate the final bit of aroused ache residing in you. “Let me get a condom baby…unless you want it raw..” The thought of him fucking you raw has you both hungry for more. He already knows.

“You want me to stuff you full of me don’t you…” You need him now..he needs you just as much. “Please…please stuff me full.” He moans before fucking up into you, he lets you ride him as much as you please. “Get off on me, use me.” You’re bouncing up and down his dick chasing your own high. Seonghwa just as much,,, while he reaches up to grope your breast and teasing your nipples. But you can only ride for so long, soon he can feel you slow down losing your own energy to go up and down. “You need some help hm baby ?” You nod. He holds on and starts bucking his hips up into you. The impact of you two’s hips has you seeing stars. “So fucking pretty so mine…”

You can feel him bully his cock into you. He trails a hand up touching the marks he left on you earlier…sweet red and purple blotches. You’re so his. You’re consumed by him. “You’re mine…this pussy is mine..Fuck. Fuck. Your hearts mine.” You’re lost in ecstasy and the feeling of his cock filling you to the brim. “All yours..all….yours Hwa.” He smiles…proud that only he can see you like this and make you feel like this. “Nobody else can even get close to this….” You can feel your next orgasm building up in your stomach. “Only you..it’s only you.” He can feel his cock twitch, he’s on the same verge of cumming as you are. “Cum on my dick..let go so I can fuck my cum into you.”

You and him both whine and moan during your releases. You can feel his cum filling you up. Moments later he pulls out and his cum slowly making its way out until he lazily takes his fingers and fucks it deeper into you. You’re in subspace or something like it. Mind in a complete quiet state.

Seonghwa takes you into the hotel bathtub. He helps you wash up with the faintly fragrant hotel soap and dry off. He sits you on his hotel bed and helps you put on your sweet smelling lotion he loves and adores. Carefully rubbing it into your skin and massaging where you might be sore in the morning.

He helps you fix your hair while kissing your forehead..He lays in bed with you holding you close until you fall asleep. Once you finally drift off,, he heads to the bathroom to take his own shower that’s when he realizes a text from Hongjoong.

“Did you two forget I’m in the room next door you sick damn perverts.”

[usomads]

Finisher // Roman Reigns x Reader (Pin Me Pt. 2)

Author’s Note -> Hiiii everyone! So many of you requested a part two to Pin Me, which again thank you so much for all the love on the first part. I honestly didn’t think of making it multiple parts when I first wrote this, but here we are and here it is lol! Happy reading!

Plot -> After pinning the Smackdown Women’s Champion in your mixed tag-team match with Roman Reigns, you gained popularity and with that your first singles title opportunity. You’ve never been more nervous for anything in your life, so your Tribal Chief helps ease your nerves before your match…

Pairings -> Roman Reigns x Fem!Reader (Y/N)

Warnings -> Cursing, Oral Sex (Fem!Receiving), Fingering, Gagging, Implied Smut, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 3.0k

(time skip to the first Smackdown episode after Saturday Night’s Main Event)

“I’ve been your Smackdown Women’s Champion for nearly five months now, and since becoming your champion I have proved that I am the irresistible force and nobody can take this title from me. Not Bayley, not Naomi, not Tiffany, and esp-” Nia’s promo was cut short by your entrance music hitting, the crowd rising to their feet and popping loudly for your theme. Since pinning Nia at Saturday Night’s Main Event, you had taken the WWE Universe by storm; your social media following went up, more and more people were recognizing you in public, you had gotten exactly the recognition you wanted all along- and it was all thanks to Roman Reigns.

Since last Saturday and your “celebration” post-match, you’ve grown closer to Joe. You were getting to know each other better, spending more time together, and what you initially thought was a one-time thing in the heat of the moment was clearly not. Joe got his hands on you every chance he could, it didn’t matter where or when, if he wanted you he was going to have you. And who were you to turn down your Tribal Chief? 

Now, you two hadn’t defined your “relationship” just yet but you both were perfectly fine with the way things were at the moment- taking things slow and really getting to know each other (among other things) before making anything official. You were doing pretty well for yourself; you were gaining more traction than before and you had a fine ass man to go home to- you had zero complaints with how your life and career were going at the moment.

You emerged from backstage, microphone in hand, as the crowd roared at your entrance. You signaled for production to cut your music, walking confidently to the ring as you spoke. “Now, Nia, I know damn well you didn’t come in the ring to talk all this mess about ‘no one can beat me’ after last week… did you hit your head too hard during our match or something because I,” you paused, signaling to the crowd filling the arena, “as well as the entire WWE universe remember very clearly that I pinned you last week at Main Event.” The crowd cheered in response, boosting your already high confidence as you smirked at Nia. “If you’re soooo confident you can beat me one-on-one, then do it. Put your title on the line next week and let’s see how much of a ‘force’ you really are.”

“Oh, Y/N…” Nia mocked you, “it’s so adorable that you think you’re a threat to me and my title. That win you got last week, pinning me? Was pure luck.” Nia stepped to you, with little distance between you too as she glared down at you, “But unlike you, at least I don’t have to sleep with anyone to get my main event spots, I work hard for what I have. Do that first, then come talk to me.” That wasn’t in the fucking script, is she serious right now? Oh, if she wants to improv, best believe I can too. You swung without thinking twice, using the microphone in your hand to hit her on the side of the head. It was time for a fight. 

You and Nia took turns trying to go at each other, both of you countering the other until she blindsided you out of nowhere with a hit that made you see double for a second. You knew you were done after that, feeling blood trickle from a cut on your head created by her. She continued to attack you while you were down, the crowd booing with every hit she delivered. After your body had slumped in the center of the ring she grabbed you by your hair and pulled you up, showing your beaten and bloody face to the crowd and cameras. “This isn’t fantasy, Y/N, stop playing pretend with Roman and go back to catering where you fucking belong.” She threw your head back onto the mat and exited the ring as security and medical personnel rushed to the ring. You dragged your fatigued body out of the ring and backstage, refusing treatment from medical despite their protests. You walked into the locker room Joe and you now shared, while Joe was screaming at someone on the phone.

“Nick, are you fucking kidding me? There’s gotta be some form of punish- I don’t give a shit what the higher ups thought about it, she could’ve seriously injured Y/N, I-,” Joe paused, turning around and seeing you enter the locker room, “I gotta go. This conversation isn’t over.” Joe hung up on the GM and rushed over to you. “Baby, are you okay? Did she hurt you? Have you gotten looked at by-”

“No, Joe, and I’m not going to. Just please, drop it. I’m over it.”

“Well, I’m not. Why the fuck would she even say something like that? How would she have known about us?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, Joe! Now leave it alone, seriously, I’m not in the goddamn mood.” You went silent, thinking about what you were going to do about Nia. You needed to do something different, something she would never see coming. Your priorities shifted completely after that segment, you now no longer wanted just the title. Your biggest priority, maybe even more than wanting the belt, was to beat the shit outta Nia Jax, no matter what it took.

“Babe, c’mon, you need to sit down. You’re gonna stress yourself into a heart attack if you don’t quit pacing around the room like that,” Joe was currently attempting to calm you down, you had been completely fine this past week you were training and promoting the match, but now that the show had officially started your overwhelming amount of confidence had completely vanished.

“Easy for you to say, title matches are second nature to you. Muscle memory. I  have never competed for a title before, I have every right to be freaking the fuck out right now, Joe,” you sighed. “It feels like everything just did a 180 degree turn, like I have so many eyes on me now and they all want me to beat Nia’s ass, and I just don’t know if I-”

“Hey, none of that. Y/N, look at me,” you slowly brought your head up to meet his eyes, the same ones that completely captivated your being just a couple weeks ago. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. That crowd out there knows exactly what you’re capable of, you know what you’re capable of, and I know what you’re capable of. I believe in you, baby, and if you can’t find it in you to believe in yourself then I’ll believe enough for the both of us. You got this, Y/N, I know you do.” Your heart melted at his words, the soothing and reassuring tone in his voice providing you some much needed comfort. 

“You still nervous, baby?” You nodded your head, looking down at your lap as he scooted closer to you on the couch. “I think I have an idea on how we can fix that. Do you trust me?”

“A-always, Joe.”

“Good girl.” He lifts your chin with his finger and passionately presses his lips to yours, resting his palm on the side of your face as you moan into the kiss. Your stomach flutters at his soft demeanor, feeling some of your nerves dissipate as his lips caress yours. He lays you down on the couch, hovering over you as he deepens the kiss. Breathless, he pulls away, leaning his forehead against yours and looking lovingly into your eyes. “You still feelin’ nervous, baby?”

“Y-yeah,” you breathed out, “a little less, but still pretty nervous.”

“I guess I’ll have to keep going then, don’t I?” His lips find their way back to yours, resting there for a moment before trailing along your jawbone and down your neck, leaving a few wet kisses at the base of your throat before continuing his path downward. Your breathing had picked up, and you were now looking down at him as his lips left a trail down your abdomen.

“A-are you sure we should… now? I mean, I have my match later and I-”

“Shhh, I promise I’ll be quick. Just wanna take care of you, help my baby out,” he muttered against your hip bone as he teased the lining of your ring gear you had been wearing. You sighed contently, leaning your head back against the arm of the couch and allowing yourself to relax into his touch. His fingers interlock in the lining of your bottoms as he looks up for you, asking for permission to remove them. You lift your hips off the couch, allowing him to slowly drag the material down your legs and throw them to the side. He snakes both hands up your legs, kneading the soft flesh of your thighs before splitting them apart and exposing you to him. Your body was so reactive to him- Joe loved how goosebumps would scatter across your skin at the brush of his lips or how your eyes would flutter closed and your eyebrows would scrunch together with just his touch, but most of all, he loved how how wet he made you without doing a thing to you. 

“Fuck, ma, always so ready for me,” you moaned loudly and bucked your hips, desperate for any sort of friction, “you gon’ have to be quiet for me, don’t want nobody to hear us, right baby?” You nodded and bit your lip, trying to hold in your cries and his fingers danced up the smooth skin of your inner thighs and through your folds, leaning down to make his face level with your core and presses a soft kiss on your clit before wrapping his lips around the swollen bud, nipping and sucking while he continues to drag his fingers along your slit before pushing a finger inside. His thrusts are slow, putting his focus on his mouth as he eats you with a burning intensity. His tongue works itself in ways that set your body on fire, the scruff of his beard along with it only adding to the sensation he’s giving you. The lip you’re biting to keep quiet is nearly drawing blood. You want to cry out, you want to moan his praises loud enough for the crowd inside the arena to hear, but you know you can’t so you continue to restrain yourself despite wanting to do the complete opposite.

He replaces his fingers with his tongue now, pumping it inside of you and using one to pin your hips down and the other to draw slow circles into your clit. This time you can’t help yourself; your clit is so sensitive that the second his fingers brushed it, you were done for. He pauses for a moment to remove his t-shirt he was wearing and you whine from the loss of contact, watching as he morphs the cotton material into a ball and hands it over to you, bringing his hand back down to your clit. “Bite down on this, since you can’t keep yourself quiet, I’ll make you.” You hesitate for a moment and look down at him, his features darkening and giving you a sly smirk before nodding his head. You bring the material to your lips before biting down on it, your senses being completely filled by Joe. He goes back to eating you as you moan into the cloth, the material successfully muffling your cries. Joe’s movements become more and more desperate, moving his tongue and fingers faster as he can sense you’re close. You can’t stop your moans now, saliva drooling from the corner of your mouth as you feel yourself getting closer to your release. Your legs begin to shake and Joe, noticing you were close, dives his head deeper into your pussy, trapping you with his mouth. Your eyes squeeze shut as you inhale, breathing in his scent and cologne you were using as a gag, triggering your own orgasm. You came on his tongue hard, shaking and moaning into the fabric of his shirt as he laps up your juices like an animal deprived of water. You even your breathing and throw his shirt back at him, the both of you laughing as he crawls on top of you.

“Oh, you wanna throw things at me do you? I might just have to teach you a le-”

Joe was interrupted by someone knocking on the door to his locker room. “Excuse me, Ms. Y/N? It’s almost time for your match, we need to head to Gorilla to finalize some things real quick.” You both sigh, him getting off of you as you put your bottoms back on in a rush. You make a run for the door to hurry and get to your position, but he grabs your arm to stop you. “You still feeling nervous?” You smiled at him and shook your head, going to thank him but getting cut off. “Good luck out there, baby. I’ll be waiting for you in Gorilla for you to show me that new title,” he kisses your cheek and you blush.

“Thank you, Joe, for everything. I mean it, I wouldn’t be doing this without you.” He gives you a soft smile and ushers you out the door, as you prepare yourself for possibly the biggest match of your entire career.

“Ughhh,” you groaned as Nia dragged you from the center of the ring to the corner, preparing to give you an Annihilator and win this match. From the jump Nia had punished you, much to the crowd’s distaste. It seemed like everybody in the arena had been behind you and you felt it, right up until the bell rang and she started throwing heavy combinations your way. You managed to sneak in a couple pieces of offense but none were convincing enough to give you any sort of edge. Nia got on the ropes, and performed the move. She remained seated on you, trying to get the pin. 1… 2… kick out. You pushed her off of you and sat on your heels, gripping your side. Jesus, my fuckin’ ribs. 

Finally to your feet, you unload on Nia as she laid on the ground. Kicks, punches, springboard moves, you threw the whole arsenal but each pin attempt gave a 1 or 2 count, and never close calls. You knew deep down you were going to have to do something completely insane to get this win, so you start stringing things together to get it done. You start by giving her a drop kick to send her to the outside, following her out, then throwing her into the steel steps. You dragged her by the hair to the announce table, laying her on it as you ran to the ring and climbed to the top rope. You made sure everyone near the table had cleared before crossing your heart and doing a senton, landing on Nia as the table and collapsing along with it. You could tell that Nia was nearly to the breaking point, so you mustered all the energy and strength you could to drag her back into the ring and climbed to the top rope once more. You hit your finisher, but wasn’t satisfied. You wanted no doubts, so you climbed up and hit it again, straddling her shoulders and hooking your arms around her legs. The arena was so loud you could barely hear the ref’s count. 1… 2… 3… ‘Here is your winner, and the NEW… WWE Women’s Champion… Y/N!’

You couldn’t even process what had just happened, all you wanted to do was get the hell out of that ring so you snatched the title from the ref and escaped. You slowed down when you made it to the stage, clutching the title in your arms and looking down at it with tears brimming your eyes. Your knees felt weak, and your heart was beating out of your chest. You did it. You triumphantly raised the title in the air, tears starting to fall as you smiled and took the moment in. After the cameras had cut and you had taken a few pictures with fans, you walked backstage only to be greeted with cheers. You made your way to everyone, getting pictures, hugs, and everything else in between before locking eyes with the man you wanted to see ever since your hand was raised. Joe. You practically ran to him, jumping into his arms and wrapping yours around his neck, hugging him tightly. He spun you around and smiled from ear to ear. 

“I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, baby. You had a helluva match out there, I knew you had it in you,” he kissed you sweetly right there, not caring who was watching as you grinned widely. “Now, let’s get you home,” he winked at you, setting you down before whispering low in your ear.

“We’ve got some more celebrating to do tonight.”

[johnbrand]

The Stages of Arabization

With @next-pharaoh

“Jeez, it’s so bright here,” Henry oriented his phone up in front of the sun, hoping to block out a few of the direct rays.

“Well, you are closer to the equator,” his boyfriend, Alex, joked. “Dubai is a bit farther south than Boston.”

Henry rolled his eyes, “What would I do without that intelligence of yours?” 

“Too bad you don’t have your own.” They both laughed at that remark. The pair had started dating in graduate school, with Alex venturing down the path of mathematics and Henry following the racial trends of Sub-Saharan Africa. Everyone joked it should have been the other way around, given Henry’s geeky, pale exterior fit the math nerd stereotype better than Alex’s lanky, darker frame. But Henry loved his studies, so much so that he had been invited to a conference in the United Arab Emirates to talk on them.

Suddenly, Henry received an email notification from one of his sponsors. “Dang, looks like I have to get back to work. Just received an essay to review before the next presentation.”

“How long do you have?”

“Barely 30 minutes.”

“Well forward it to me,” Alex replied. “We can tag team it. I know this isn’t my strong suit but at least I can help cover more ground.”

Henry thought that was a great idea. Without a second thought, he redirected the email and wished his boyfriend goodbye. Alex would send his thoughts over text when he had finished.

“‘The Stages of Arabization’,” Henry recited aloud. He was planning to head inside to read–gingers burnt way too easily in the direct sunlight–but he noticed the writing was pretty short. Barely even a page. Henry was surprised to realize the essay was in Arabic, but he quickly utilized a translator app to resolve the issue.

Stage 1: Islamization  Islam becomes the majority religion or state religion.

Strange formatting, but Henry understood the statement as rather truthful. The historically successful Arabizations of Morocco, Algeria, and Egypt had followed a similar suit. Even some of the countries he had studied had shown signs of this progression.

Stage 2: Linguistic Arabization Islam brings fixation on Arabic language, thus the Arabic language becomes central to the society's identity. Arabic becomes the state language.

Henry found this statement agreeable as well. There was something so methodical about the Arabic language, how it melodically ebbed and flowed in such a way that it twirled through the hearing canals directly into the brain. Anyone who listened to it almost became entranced, as if captured by its beauty and awakened by its fluidity. Henry closed the translator app before continuing on. 

Stage 3: Cultural Arabization Arab cultural practices become common due to Islamization. Own cultural heritage is deemed closer to ages of ignorance and thus gradually forgotten and replaced with Islam.

Henry had followed this trend through his research. Many of the countries he had analyzed over the years had demonized their traditional practices once introduced to Islamic culture. It was like watching a child being given a new toy; the original quickly discarded for one deemed far more superior. These assimilations had even started to appear in Henry’s life. Thobes were the new fashion craze among his fellow researchers, midday prayer rooms had taken over labs, and even the cafeteria had become completely halal.

Stage 4: Ethnic Arabization Planned migration of many Arab tribes and deliberate suppression of the numbers of natives, consequently major demographic shift. Media encourages Arabs to multiply and mix.

This too had arrived in the workplace. Rapidly, it had become obvious that the university was prioritizing hiring Arab and Arab-American employees. Political discourse on abortion had suddenly disappeared, instead dropping birth control from medical insurances and advertising “Reversion Through Fertilization”. Luckily, Hussein had not been influenced much by this change. In fact, he almost felt as if he was somehow a part of it.

Stage 5: Fully Arab State Arabs and the Arabized become elite and majority. Non-Arabized are shunned and pressured to revert until no opposition remains.

Hussein smiled with pride, closing the essay he was sure to give high remarks to. His best friend Ali had a similar response, a text from him glowing with praise about the truth in the writer’s words. The essay was eloquent, thought-provoking, and would become mandatory literature at his lab, and soon throughout the reverting world. It reflected the future, similarly to his own phone screen: masculine, virile Arab men. Hussein felt a divine sense of conformity with Islam, one all were soon destined to see.

[ringoffiction]

Collision Course

Summary: You and Jeff were paired to form a team, the only problem was that he hated your guts. He would always accuse and shame you until the day you confronted him. Pairings: Jeff Hardy x Fem Reader Warnings: angst, enemies to lovers, cursing, kinda smut but not really, +18 Word Count: 593 Notes: This is my first fic in 8 years, so be patient I'm still rusty

Being one of the few women on the main roster that would constantly have rivalry with male superstars was no easy task. You were often taken for granted and your place as a top star in the company would always be seen as you “sleeping around to get your way to the top”, even though that was bullshit some of these comments got to your nerves. One male wrestler in particular could ruin your day just for existing in the same room as you.

Jeff Hardy was loved by everyone, when he got the ring next to his brother the arena would explode in chants and applause. With that much love at such a young age, his ego was definitely affected. So when he got the news that you would be paired with him and his brother he made his personal mission to make your life a living hell. 

“Don’t fuck this up” was the first thing he said to you before his entrance music started playing, you just rolled your eyes and focused in your match. 

This happened 4 months ago and the interactions between you and Jeff just became worse, but thankfully you and Matt started getting along and quickly became friends. 

When the three of you were in the ring the chemistry was undeniable, but when you got behind the curtains the bickering would start, mostly Jeff saying you're sloppy and you were bringing their quality down.  

But one day he crossed the line. 

During a match against Edge and Lita you were supposed to let Jeff tag you, but Lita pulled you over ringside and started to wrestle you. This resulted in Jeff losing the tag and the match for the pair. 

As you helped each other out of the ring, Jeff put his arms around your shoulders and whispered in your ear “You’re pathetic, you don’t deserve to be here”, this was the last straw for you, you swallowed your tears and continued to make your way backstage ready to confront the charismatic enigma. 

You dragged him to an empty corner “what’s your problem?” you asked while holding his collar and bringing his face close to yours. 

“you”, he said with a smirk on his face. He got even closer to your face and you breath mixed in one, he locked eyes with you and you could feel the heat of his body so close to you that it almost felt like it was burning. “I have a problem with you and how everyone falls for you”.

With that you couldn't help but scoff “so your problem is that everyone likes me and you don’t? Because you’re better than everyone?” you got even closer to him while saying this, lips so close to touching. “Grow up, Jeff”.

“But you see, princess… My problem is that I'm no better than anyone” Jeff said while putting his hands on your waist and pulling your lower body close to his. “I want you more than anything”

And just like that he closed the distance between your lips, the kiss was intense from the start. Your tongues fought for dominance as you explored each other bodies, his hands travelled from your waist to your butt. 

At the same time you put your hand to his muscular chest and moved to the back of his neck pulling him even closer to you and deepening the kiss. Jeff let out a breath moan and you could feel his member against your core.

He separated the kiss with heavy breathing “wanna finish this somewhere else?”

[recklesssturniolo]

Locker Room - M.S

Matt loses a lacross game & takes his frustration out on you, dom!Matt, this is as if Matt was in college, reader and him are dating

A/N: idk how I feel about this I’m sorry😓 if no one likes it heart = shattered

NSFW below, leave if you’re a minor

I went to all of Matt’s games, always wearing his jersey, and always rooting for him. I loved watching him play, not only was it hot but I couldn’t help but always feel proud of him too. Nick and Chris usually tagged along as well, but today both weren’t able to. As I intensely watched the last few minutes of the game, my heart sank as I realized they had lost. I stood up from the bleachers, letting out a sigh knowing how upset Matt was going to be and made my way to the locker room to wait for him outside. I had watched as every other member of his team walked out, smiling and greeting them as they did but only grew more confused the longer Matt took. Assuming by this point that no one else was inside the lockeroom, I slowly made my way inside.

“Matt baby?” I called out.

“Yeah I’m here, you can come in no one else is inside” He mumbled back.

Spotting him as I walked inside, I couldn’t help but think to myself how good he looked. The sweat glisening off of him, his hair a mess and even just the way he was sitting, shirtless leaned back against the wall.

“It okay, it’s just one game Matty” I said, sitting beside him.

“For fuck sakes it isn’t just one game, this was important and we fucked it up” He said back, his voice raising a bit.

“How can I help make you feel better?” I asked as I brought my hand to rub his back.

Barley being able to process his movements I feel his lips smash to mine. The kiss immediately rough and his tongue winning for dominance. I moaned as his hands slipped up his jersey I had on, and he began playing with my breasts.

“Look so good in my jersey” He said, “You wanna make me feel better?”

“Yes of course” I replied.

“Get on your knees then” He responded, grabbing my arm and directing me to the ground.

I remove his pants, spitting on my hand before beginning to stroke his dick. My pace slow but steady, him instantly letting out a groan.

“Fuck sakes use your mouth” He demanded, his hand making its way to the back of my head.

I begin licking circles around his tip, before he applies pressure to the back of my head, making me take all of his dick in my mouth, a gag instantly leaving my mouth.

“Mph there you go, such a good girl for me” He groaned.

I was soaked, Matt being this dominant was something that rarely happened and I couldn’t get enough of it when it did. My pussy throbbing, beginning for some form of friction. I continued bobbing my head up and down, at times using my hand to stroke him when I wasn’t deep throating him.

“Matt” I whimpered, unable to stop myself, the throbbing between my legs becoming too much.

“Yeah? Fuck you’re so hot on your knees for me” He responds.

“I need you, please” I whine.

“Need me to fuck you? Take all my frustration out on your tight pussy?” He questioned.

“I - yes god please” I reply.

Matt grabs my arms and lifts me up, sitting me on the bench before spreading my legs open and smirking before rubbing circles over my clit.

“So wet for me, you won’t be able to walk out of here by the time I’m done with you” He smirks.

“Just fuck me Matty, I need you so bad” I moan out.

He moves me so I was bent over, my ass in the air facing him. I feel him line himself up with my entrance, a moan already falling from my mouth just knowing the sensation that was going to follow.

Without a warning, he slams into me.

“Fuck Matt I - oh my god you’re so big” I whimper, a slight mix of pain and pleasure shooting through my body.

“Take it I know you can pretty girl” He groans out, continuing to slam himself into me at an ungodly pace. His grip on my hips growing tigher with each thrust, no doubt going to leave me with bruising.

“So fucking tight” He groans out, his voice raspy, “Such a good girl for me”

Continuous moans fall effortlessly from my mouth as he fucks me, hitting my g-spot in a way so good that with each thrust I felt my pussy clench.

“Touch yourself, I want you touching yourself while I come all over your ass” He demands.

I do as he demands, my hand now rubbing circles around my clit, only hightening my pleasure. The knot in my stomach only tighening the longer we continued, my legs beginning to shake. Feeling a sudden loss of Matt’s touch, I whimper until I feel his come on my ass and him groan, my name leaving his mouth as he did so.

“God you feel so good, not such a good girl now all covered in my come are you?” He says, without a doubt a smirk on his face.

“Matty I -“ I start but he cuts me off.

“I know baby, I’m not done with you” He replies, spreading my legs wider and moving so he was underneath me, my pussy hovering above his face.

I feel him swipe two fingers up my pussy, a whine leaving my mouth. His thumb moving slow circles on my clit as he used his tongue to flick the rest of my pussy.

“Taste so good, covering my face with your juices. So fucking hot” He says.

The knot in my stomach only becoming tigher as he flattens his tongue against my pussy before sucking on my clit, pushing two fingers inside of me.

“I’m gonna come holy fuck don’t stop please” I whimper. My legs now shaking to the point I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stay standing.

“Good girl, show me how good I make you feel. Come all over my face” He mumbles, sending vibrations up my body.

Unable to hold myself back, I reach my climax, my eyes squeezing shut, and my legs buckling as I did, only pushing my pussy further down on his face. Moaning out his name continuously.

“Matt I can’t hold myself up much longer it - fuck it feels so good” I moan out.

Ignoring my comment, he continues using his tongue to lick up my juices, slowing the pace of his fingers that were insdie of me, before sliding out from underneath me and allowing me to sit down. Both of us catching our breath.

“Never really thought I’d feel this good after losing a game” He smirks.

TAGLIST: @sturnphilia @thatonekid536 @cupidsword @loveesiren @daddyslilchickenfingers @christinarowie332 @ilovemattsturn @mattenthusiast @its-jennarose @lxvlysworld @lovingsturniolo @iwantmattsobad @secret-sturniolo @mattsd0ll @soursturniolo

[oatmealwrites]

A Night To...Forget? Ch.4

Aizawa x Eidetic memory! Law student! F Reader

Part 3 | Part 5

[a night to forget masterlist here]

Synopsis: It's time for you the case debrief going over the prosecution process for a handful of members captured from the LOV. Aizawa waits for you after the meeting concludes as your mentor pawns off even more work for you to complete. Minutes turn to hours and eventually he's offering you a ride home...

Tags: Jealous! Aizawa, he's kinda cute and caring hehe, mentions of car sex, mention of erection, mention of female arousal, make out, french kissing, hickies, hair pulling, horny thoughts, 'what are we', he's down bad, so are you tho, Keigo is an indirect instigator, 18+, MDNI

Word count: 6k

[it's getting hot n heavy...]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The debrief is scheduled to begin promptly at 3:45 on Tuesday afternoon at your mentor’s office with a handful of heroes from UA, first responders, and prosecution team working on the case. Just prior to the student dorms being built, an attack against the students of classes 1-a and 1-b from the LOV resulted in a few arrests that now needed to be filtered through the judicial systems. Both the pro-heroes and police responders who were in attendance are at this meeting. 

You linger in the breakroom, watching the way coffee drips into the glass pot and fills the air with a warm aroma, silently counting down the hours left until you could clock out. Leaning against the counter, you straighten the fabric of your newly returned blazer and tap the side of your mug to an impatient rhythm. 

You clocked in promptly at 9:30 this morning after your 8am lecture and haven’t left since. Keigo texted you a few hours earlier, a mix of daily life updates and the link to a brand new fried chicken shop he happened to hear about, but you haven’t been able to fully respond. 

Ughhh

A soft ‘beep’ emits from the coffee maker and you slide the glass pot from its stand to pour the hot contents into your awaiting mug. You stayed up way too late last night….aside from your evening moment of ‘self care’, you struggled to fall asleep with nerves keeping you awake. It was a weird mix of giddiness at the prospect of going on a date and anxiety that you were misinterpreting a ‘work dinner’. 

“Ready for the debrief? I’m hoping to have all the paperwork signed before 5.”

The voice of your mentor resonates from the entrance of the break room causing you to instantly stand up a little straighter. He chuckles and saunters in, reaching for the coffee pot and grabbing a spare mug from the counter.

You back up a little bit and bring the ceramic mug to your lips to blow steam away. “Yes, sir. Hopefully it will go smoothly.”

He doesn’t turn to you when he responds, too focused on his own beverage to look up. “Good, good. I have to run out of here at 6pm on the dot…. Mind filing the residual documents and forwarding copies to all parties? Need it done in 48 hours.”

You pause, mentally adding up all the hours it would take to complete such a task before he spins around and gives you a pat on the back while heading for exit.

“Thanks, kid!” He waves with his back facing you, and heads for the conference room.

Great.

You sigh into your cup and can feel a migraine already beginning to form from the amount of tasks you have to complete. A late night would be guaranteed tonight, and you could always come into the office before your class tomorrow morning…. On top of the other case assignments you have to sort through.

Making a mental note to update your agenda, you glance at the clock on the wall and resolve to finally head for the conference room. You were only supposed to take meeting minutes for this debrief and highlight applicable clauses the prosecution team and heroes can use during the case. Not the most involved role, but a mentally draining one regardless. 

Small heels clicking on the granite office floors, you walk down the hallway past glass office windows and pull the meeting room door open. A variety of police officers are already inside, along with the majority of the prosecution team and the heroes ‘Erasurehead’ and ‘Vlad King’.

Mindless chatter fills the space, but as soon as you make your way into the room Aizawa looks up from his conversation with Kan and locks eyes with you. The baggy pro-hero uniform enhances the rugged look while his hair is left down and tousled from the commute over. 

Damn, he’s hot.

Swallowing any horny inappropriate thoughts and maintaining a professional decorum, you raise your hand in a slight wave ‘hello’ which he immediately returns. Kan notices and follows his gaze to you, offering a slight greeting as well before throwing a gentle elbow into the side of his colleague; Aizawa blinks once before murmuring something under his breath to the man. 

You peel your eyes off the two of them and observe the large oval table that makes up the majority of the room. At the main head is your mentor with support prosecution staff flanking both sides until it dissolves into police officers and finally Aizawa and Kan on the mirroring end. You roll out a chair from between another lawyer and first responder and sit down; taking out your pad and pen, you wait for the meeting to commence. 

It’s relatively routine; there’s a detailed review of the evening, timeline of the act and arrest, and a list of charges the villains can be prosecuted under given the offense. You occasionally remind the legal limitation regarding one of the arrests, a middle school boy, and offer separate charges given his age before the debrief is nearly done. 

Going from your notes to observing everything being discussed, you can’t help but glance in Aizawa’s direction every so often. And every time you look up, he’s already staring in your direction.

It’s awkward at first, both of you immediately looking away once you realize you’ve been caught, before inevitably glancing back over once again. By the end of the meeting, when you lock eyes he doesn’t turn away; Aizawa holds the gaze until you eventually look back down at your meeting notes with cheeks dusted red. 

“Alright everyone.” Your mentor stands up and signals to you. “Y/N is going to assist in the paperwork process for the case. You’ll be contacting her for documents, case updates, and any questions you have.”

You rise to your feet and give a light wave to the table, ready to introduce yourself before your mentor cuts you off. “I have to excuse myself given the hour, but please don’t hesitate to remain here until you’re all caught up to speed on the process.”

An invitation to the heroes and police officers, but a silent obligation reminding you of your now ensured overtime work. The table stands up as you pass out a variety of legal documents that require their signature and explain the estimated timeline for the court cases if there’s no bail payment or appeals. 

After about 30 minutes of questions and document processing, the conference room is nearly empty except for Aizawa, Kan, and a few other prosecutors on the case. Tapping a stack of documents against the table, you reach forward to collect a few scatter papers and sort them into the pile in family name order. 

The sun has already set given the time of year, and the fluorescent lights from other offices outside have flicked on. From the large glass window wall of the conference room, you can see into said office buildings and peer down at the busy traffic picking up from the street below. 

“Heading home soon?”

Aizawa’s deep voice rumbles from behind you, and you spin to admire the man once again before sorting the last paper into the pile; Kan stands further behind him on his phone, scrolling without thought as he waits for his colleague. You sigh and hug the stack into your chest and lean against the glossy wooden table.

“No, I have to scan all of these before digitally and physically filing them.”

Aizawa raises an eyebrow and glances down at the pile. “That’s a lot of work. You’re doing it all by yourself?”

“I mean, yea? I have to send you, and everyone else, a copy within 2 days so I have to get a headstart tonight.”

The man in front of you frowns at the response and looks over at the clock on the wall which ticks absentmindedly.

“It’s nearly 7pm already. How late are you staying?”

You blink and peel your eyes off of him and down to the papers in your hands. “Uh, maybe another 2 hours?”

Aizawa scoffs and furrows his brows at the response but doesn’t say anything right away. It’s not like he’s your boss and can give you better working hours, but the complacency you have in the shitty task makes him annoyed that you’ve grown used to being so overworked. 

When he still doesn’t answer, you pivot past him and flip through the first documents on the top before opening the conference door with your hip.

“I’ll bring you home then.”

Stopping the door with your foot, you pause in the doorway while Aizawa walks over in an effort to  follow you to the printer. Kan stops scrolling on his phone and shrugs at the man; his attention preoccupied on a food order app that he has pulled up. 

“Wait, what?”

Aizawa doesn’t answer you and instead turns to his coworker. “Is that alright, Kan? I know we drove here together, but I’d like to make sure she gets home safe.”

Kan looks back up and heads towards the room exit as well, giving a slight eyebrow at the chivalry Aizawa was offering you. “That’s fine. I was going to stop by this one restaurant nearby anyways. There’s a train station not far from it.”

The three of you now standing in the hallway, flourenscent lights reflecting on the shiny stone floors, you look between the two men. 

“W-Wait you don’t have to–” your voice is quiet as the two continue speaking as if you weren’t even in there.

“Ah, so it works out then. I’ll be back on campus by around 10, hopefully the dorms won't be burned down by then.”

Kan laughs and sets up the map feature for the walk to the restaurant. “With this year’s class I wouldn’t be surprised. But Toshinori is covering your students, so they should be ok.”

Words dead in your throat, your body acts on autopilot to wave goodbye to the pro-hero as Aizawa stands beside you; once Kan disappears into the elevator, you snap back into reality.

“Wait. You don’t need to do all of this! I’ll be ok.”

Aizawa turns and finally looks down at you with a neutral face as if he had offered you advice on a good recipe he heard of, not a ride home in his car. 

“It’s dangerous to walk around late at night.”

You raise an eyebrow and spin to head towards the printer. “Why, because I’m a lady?”

“Yes. And, you’re working with heroes carrying important legal information. That makes you an even bigger target.” He replies while following you.

You purse your lips and line up the first set of documents into the tray before tapping though the options on the screen, “Touche.”

Aizawa watches you start the scan, collect the papers, and load up the next set to the tray. You’ve done this a million times before, but having an audience watch your every move is a mix of comforting at the company and nerve wracking considering it’s him.

He sits in a plush office seat facing the printer and crosses his legs in contentment while resting his head in his hand.

“Do you usually work this late?”

You load the next set of papers and look at the screen option selections. “Mmm, sometimes. When there’s big cases like this one… yea. Sometimes later.”

Aizawa grunts and peers out of the window. “It’s bad to head home so late… and alone.”

The word choice makes your gut stir in multiple ways; anticipation and curiosity at his tone leaves you speechless for a moment. Whirring as it scans the next set of papers, you rock back on your heels and glance over at the man.

“Keigo walks me home sometimes.”

He holds your gaze and his jaw tightens at the mention of Keigo’s name; he swings his leg off the other and splays his thighs to sit back in the chair more comfortably. The movement has your gaze lingering on the muscular swell of his legs a moment too long before awkwardly spinning back around to load in the next set of documents. 

Aizawa exhales as you place the last set of papers in the tray and press the ‘start’ button to finish the scan. “You should’ve told me– or someone– to bring you home all those times.”

His subtle save at offering anybody else in helping you home leaves a warm feeling in your chest; you collect the papers and stack them into the same neat pile before motioning for him to follow you.

Heels clicking softly, you head over to your cubicle near your mentor’s main office. “Well, you’re here now to bring me home. So it's ok.” You place the stack on your desk and slide out your rolling chair. 

Aizawa leans against the half-wall and watches the way you sit in front of your computer and pull up the new scans that have been forwarded to your email. Silently, he pushes off the wall and walks over to another cubicle to roll your colleague's office chair over to your own.

“Sorry, this must be pretty boring.” You mumble, saving the documents into new folders based on the signature’s name.

The man beside you hums and pulls out his phone to sort through his messages, clearly in no rush to go home. 

Minutes feels like hours, and it takes roughly 90 minutes to have everything organized in digital folders on the company cloud, email all recipients their respective copy, and prepare an outline of the prosecution timeline. Tomorrow you could better go through the individual charges and sort out which court the case would be filtering through; sitting back in your chair, you crack your back while raising your arms above your head.

Satisfied with the few ‘pops’ that emit from your spine, you spin in your chair and peer over at the empty space where Aizawa had been sitting. When did he leave? Putting your computer on sleep mode, you stand and push in your chair before returning your coworker’s seat to their cubicle. 

Most overhead lights are off, and while you slide your belongings into your soft briefcase, a set of footsteps echoes on the granite floor. Only throwing your winter puffer coat over your blazer and straightening out your skirt does a voice ring out.

“Oh, you're finished?”

Aizawa stands at the entrance of your cubicle with two paper cups of coffee and a small bag of chips tucked under his arm.

“I grabbed these in case you needed more time…”

Blinking for a moment, a grin spreads across your lips as you take the snack from under his arm and place it on your desk. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“Maybe, the two coffees were for me.” 

Aizawa cracks a small smirk as you shake your head and graciously take a cup from his hand and blow away the steam. “Thank you, though. That's very sweet of you.”

He smiles gently back at you, a small heat on his cheeks, before pivoting to take in the dark and emptiness of the office around you. It’s cold and lonely; the large glass windows reflect the city lights and the lack of color in the furniture limits the personality of the building.

“Ready? I parked in the garage underground; I assume we can just take the elevator down?”

“Yep.”

You adjust the straps of your briefcase and walk next to him, heart pounding at the proximity despite sitting next to him for the past 2 hours. Aizawa matches your speed and eyes the way you fiddle with the bag to get a better weight balance; your winter coat causes the fabric to slip off your shoulder occasionally.

“Here, let me.”

Deft hands wrap around the leather, and you pause in surprise before tilting your head down for him to slide the straps off. Silently, Aizawa places it on his own shoulder and motions for you to continue walking towards the elevator.

“You didn’t have to do that either; it’s kinda heavy…”

Aizawa doesn’t answer for a moment before pressing the call button for the lift and shrugging. “It’s pretty light. Besides, it’s probably annoying to carry this while wearing those.”

He points to your puffy coat and kitten heeled shoes when the elevator dings upon arrival and you both step in. The silence in between your conversation isn’t awkward or forced; the casualness of it all makes your heart swell in a domestic sort of way.

“It should be part of hero training for you. Saving people in heels would be the needed score to pass.”

“That sounds more like torture.” He rolls his eyes but keeps a small grin on his lips.

“Oh? Think you would fail?”

The elevator descends down to the level -3 and you both step out into the cold and lonely parking garage. Most cars have left, and the only two you can spot are two sedans; a sleek black model and an older gray one. Aizawa digs out his car keys and unlocks the newer car from a distance causing the headlights to turn on; walking past the silver car, you notice the windows are completely fogged.

“Huh?”

You both pause and watch the car for a moment before an embarrassed blush covers both of your faces; it jerks side to side on occasion before a hand shoots up to blur the condensation of the fog on the back passenger window. Both you and Aizawa stand there for a moment in shock at the scene before awkwardly turning your attention back to his car and walking faster. 

“Well.. uh, i guess a few people were working late–” he awkwardly mumbles, opening the driver’s door and sliding behind the wheel.

You take your briefcase back from his hands and place it at your feet while buckling, “oh.. Yea.”

It’s an uncomfortable atmosphere that Aizawa notices before he reaches forward to turn on the radio and steer the car towards the garage exit. The last station playing was a real time news outlet relaying current events and traffic information on the nearby highways.

He rolls down his window to scan the paper visitor pass before the gate opens up and the car pulls into the street.

“Where are we headed?”

“Oh, right!” you sit upright and tap the address to your apartment on the screen of the car navigation system before sheepishly apologizing. 

The open endedness of the question isn’t lost on you though, he was asking where to go… not necessarily implying you two were going straight to dropping you off. Did he want to get a drink? Go for a drive? Maybe–

“Why do you keep doing that?”

His voice is deep and sincere while his eyes occasionally drift off the road to look over at you; short winter parka still zipped up to your chin, you tilt your head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Smooth hands turn the wheel at an intersection before the car rolls to a stop at a light; red LEDs painting you both in a warm glow.

“You keep apologizing. Why?”

“I don’t know…” you dig your chin into your coat collar and look out the windshield at the car ahead of you before glancing back at Aizawa. “I just feel bad when people go out of their way when it’s unnecessary.”

A short horn peels his attention back to the road; the light now green and his foot hitting the acceleration from the impatient driver behind you both. A sigh escapes his lips as he occasionally glances between the road, the navigation, and you. 

“It’s not unnecessary. Helping you isn’t unnecessary… I offered because I want to, not because I’m obligated to.”

Heat rises to your face and you squirm slightly in your seat at the conversation; the intensity and confidence in his own explanation makes your pulse spike. You absentmindedly tap against the window button on the side of the car door and glance at the passing buildings as the scenery becomes more residential from the proximity to your neighborhood. 

“But it is your obligation. You’re a hero so… you have to do nice things.”

It’s the only thought that prevents you from fully believing the man at your side was giving you special treatment and not simply fulfilling his usual role of assisting people. Now that it hangs in the air, Aizawa remains quiet for a moment with his hands tracing the seam of the leather wheel in silent thought. 

“Listen, y/n.. I–”

RING!

Aizawa is cut off by your cell phone buzzing away in your bag which instantly cuts the tension in the situation. With a sigh and slight apology, you lean over to dig through the contents of your leather briefcase before pulling out your phone and rolling your eyes at the caller ID plastered on the screen.

Incoming Call: Bird Brain [Keigo]

Decline Accept

Aizawa motions for you to answer, unable to read the person’s contact on the screen and continues driving; his eyes linger on you through his peripherals as you scoff while accepting the call.

“What do you want?”

“Woaaaa what’s with the hostility right away? I haven’t even said anything~” Keigo’s voice jokes from the other side of the line.

You lean against the window and watch the traffic trickle to nearly nothing as Aizawa keeps his eyes on the road. You weren’t particularly in the mood for a phone call with him right now; too tired from a long day of work to hear about whatever ramblings he had this time. 

“Ok, fine. What’s up?”

He laughs lightly on the other side. “Well, since you haven’t answered any of my texts, I wanted to know if you wanted to stop by that chicken place I sent you.”

You glance at the clock on the car screen and raise an eyebrow. “At this hour? Aren’t they probably closed?”

Keigo doesn’t answer for a moment, the sound of a microwave beeping in the background and feet shuffling can be heard before he answers. “Yea, they are.”

“Then why are you–”

This prick. He’s obviously not still out, considering the background noise of kitchen equipment and suddenly an array of slight construction work can be heard on the other end.

You sit up right and clench the phone tight in your hand; Aizawa looks over and raises an eyebrow, ready to ask if you’re alright before you raise your voice into the phone.

“Are you at my apartment?!”

Keigo presumably shuts the microwave door and leans into his shoulder holding up the phone with a laugh. “Hey~ winner winner, chicken din–”

“You asshole; what’s the point of asking me to dinner if you’re already at my house?”

A slight curse from the temperature of the plate causes Keigo to pause before replying. “So you can’t skip out on it. Duh. I picked it up earlier after my parole and figured you would probably be getting off work around now.”

If Aizawa was doing his very best not to eavesdrop earlier, he made no effort to hide it now. You give him an apologetic glance while his eyebrows are furrowed at the conversation; his jaw noticeably tighter ever since the phrase ‘ask me to dinner’ left your lips. 

Pinching your temple with your thumb and index finger, you lean against the cool glass of the window and sigh. “Alright, whatever. I’ll be home in–” you glance at the navigation, “3 minutes. So please don’t burn down my apartment in the meantime.”

“No promises~”

Silently cursing yourself for ever giving him a spare key, you end the call and rub your temples in stress from his stupid antics. Aizawa swallows thickly and continues down the road, your apartment building and slight scaffolding from renovations, coming into view. 

“Is everything alright?”

His voice causes you to look up and face the man at your side, suddenly embarrassed for how much of a bitch you probably sounded like when yelling at your friend on the phone. Cutting your losses, you shrug and slide your phone into your pocket as Aizawa turns into the parking lot. 

“Yea, just Keigo inviting himself over. As usual.”

Sucking in the flesh of his cheek between his molars, Aizawa glides the vehicle into a ‘Visitor - 15 Minute Parking’ spot but keeping his foot on the brake and the car in drive. You shuffle to organize your belongings as the news continues playing in the background while Aizawa plugs in the directions back to UA campus.

“Does he do that a lot?”

You look up from your briefcase at the man and shrug slightly. “Yea, kinda.”

He nods once and turns back to the screen before frowning and glancing back at you; a serious look on his face now as a million indiscernible thoughts run through his head.

“Maybe we should cancel next week.”

Huh?

Your heart drops to your stomach, and you turn your head up at him so fast that your neck nearly cracks from the speed. 

“W-what? Why?”

Aizawa awkwardly scratches the light scruff on his chin that has already begun to grow back from yesterday’s shave. “It would impose on what you and...him have going on. I don’t want to make things weird between you two.”

…

Me and… him? 

“Him…? -KEIGO?”

Aizawa winces at the tone before looking at you as if you were the crazy one in this conversation. Sitting back upright in your seat, briefcase haphazardly open at your feet, you bring your hands up and shake your head violently. 

“Yea, you two are close–”

“No!” you wave your hands again “I mean, yes, we’re close. But not like that. We’re best friends, not anything else.”

Aizawa silently calculates your response and watches the way you’ve spun in your seat to lean closer to the center console to deny his suspension. Taking a few deep breaths, you calm down and stare into his dark eyes, silently trying to communicate you’re serious. 

He waits a moment and wets his lips; his eyes never leaving yours. “That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

Your immediate response is a bit desperate, but you’d be damned if you let Keigo indirectly cause your date(?) to be canceled. Aizawa nods once, his foot still on the break but his body facing yours; the proximity and intensity of the situation causes arousal to pool in the fabric of your panties.

He swallows thickly once more, his eyes leaving your own to now stare down at the shine of chapstick on your lips. “So he won’t mind that we’re getting dinner next week?”

Your own gaze lingers on his lips as you lean in slightly to portray more certainty. “No, he won’t.”

Aizawa nods once, his eyes flickering up to yours for a moment before settling back down your lips. In a moment of clarity, he begins backing up in his seat, realizing the thick sexual tension in the atmosphere before you lean in again.

“He won’t mind–...”

Your words trail off, but the bait works as Aizawa leans back down again, presumably to continue the conversation before you pivot forward and connect your lips to his. It only lasts a few seconds, and the stiffness of his lips makes your heart rate spike.

Fuck. what if he didn’t–

“Hmpf”

Before you can overanalyze the aftermath of your actions, Aizawa snakes his hand up behind your head and tugs your lips back into his with force. Eyes fluttering shut and cunt clenching pathetically around nothing, your hand digs into the fabric of his hero uniform and pulls him in even closer. 

Head tilting slightly, you part your lips to breathe for a moment before reconnecting your lips; the kiss no longer timid but now full of desperation and longing. Pouring all the pitiful months you spent thinking about him into the action, Aizawa doesn't hesitate to meet the intensity with equal force. 

Your nose brushing into his cheek while the slight stubble rubs into the flesh of your chin, your hand raises to wrap around his shoulders and grab at his long, unruly hair. The kiss stays closed-mouth until his lips part slightly to lick your own in a silent question to open; the moment they do, his tongue is snaking inside your mouth and grinding against your own. 

Hot muscle running along yours, the bitter taste of black coffee makes your mind fuzzy as your fingers pull at the long tresses of his hair. On one particular tug, a groan escapes his throat and reverberates on your lips before the car jerks.

“Oh.. shit–”

Aizawa releases his gentle hold on your waist from over the console and pivots his body back to the wheel. “Forgot to put this in park. Heh..”

Hand firmly adjusting the shifter and sliding it to ‘park’, you barely have a moment to wonder if the moment is over before he’s clicking off his seat belt and leaning in once again. Effectively silenced by his tongue, your hands wrap around his neck again and find solace in his hair; lips chasing yours every time you part for air, Aizawa runs his tongue against yours one more time before sitting back slightly. 

Saliva running down the corner of your lips, your hand lifts to wipe it away while panting and staring at the man in front of you. Aizawa’s pupils are blown wide, causing his already dark eyes to become even more unreadable as he stares at you like prey; his chest lifts with each pant escaping his lips. 

Blinking once, but not moving, you sit up slightly and glance towards the back seat with a mind hazy with pent up sexual desire. Sure, you didn’t expect to be so horny as to silently offer fucking in the back seat of his car…but desperate times call for…

Aizawa doesn’t give you the chance to finish the thought process, instead he reaches over to release the seat belt holding you to the passenger seat and wraps his fingers around the zipper of your coat. Only tugging it down maybe 6 inches from your chin, he tugs the fabric open as his eyes are locked on your throat the same way a wolf stalks a rabbit.

Pulse beating rapidly, he doesn’t hesitate to lean into the warmth of your neck and connect his lips to the flesh in an array of open mouth kisses. Gasp escaping your lips as Aizawa’s free hands reaches up to tug your head juuust slightly to the side to allow for more room, his teeth begin to sink into the delicate flesh.

“Oh… fuck-”

Bitting your lip to prevent from embarrassing yourself further, Aizawa’s lips find the thrumming heart rate on your pulse point and latch his mouth to the area in a drunken haze. His body is half over the shallow console, pining you to the leather seat and car door as his mouth sucks ugly purple bruises all over the flesh of your neck.

Nimble fingers rub circles into your hips with enough force that you can feel the pressure of his fingertips through the thick pencil skirt and lower portion of your blazer; your hands tug at the strands of his hair while clawing at him in a desperate attempt to be closer, closer, closer.

You need him. Pussy aching and dripping into the flimsy fabric of your panties leaves your thighs sticky and desperately rubbing together in a pathetic heat to ease the desire. 

A hot tongue runs down the side of your neck to soothe the bullied skin while the tip of Aizawa’s nose tickles the flesh just under your ear. Hips twitching at the sensation as your mind becomes a puddle of feral attraction. 

“Stop squirming.” Strong hands push you further into the seat as Aizawa glances at your drunken face before moving hair away from the other side of your neck. “Gotta keep still f’me.”

Lips latching on to the other side of your throat, your back arches uncomfortably in the car and you tilt your hips further into his hands. Surely he’s just as horny as you are.. So why won’t he…?

“A-Aizawa–”

“Shōta.” He corrects, before digging his canines into the flesh just above where your pretty corporate button up sits on your neck. 

“...shit.. S-Shōta–” Mind reeling as your hands leave the mess of his hair and fall to his capture weapon, pathetically clawing at it to loosen from his shoulders.

As soon as you’re able to pull maybe a single loop of the scarf from his neck, Aizawa backs up away from your bruised throat and wraps a hand around your own. A silent plea to stop, your fingers drop the material and peer up at him as you both pant and take in the moment around you.

“Is something..wrong?” You question nervously, wondering if you had been rushing things.

Aizawa breathes deeply a few more times, his lips swollen from their suction on your neck, and focuses his breath to calm himself rather than calm you. 

“Not like this… I can’t do this with you, in here.” He motions to the car and shuts his eyes for a brief moment, using all the strength in the world to not pivot you both to the back seat and continue where you left off. “I want this, but– it needs to happen a certain way… a better way. It would be rude to take you in here when I’ve already planned it out properly.”

If you weren’t completely drunk in sexual desire, your heart would be doing cartwheels at his desperate admission to imagining having sex with you in a more gentlemanly fashion than the back seat of his car. It’s honestly more chivalrous than half the shitty dates you’ve been on. 

Panting slightly and sitting upright, you nod and try to cool yourself off from the situation; the 'what the fuck just happened' topic lingers in the air. Brushing through your hair and zipping your coat up to your chin once more; a nervous anticipation builds as you can feel the slick in your panties stick to your thighs.

He was able to get you so embarrassingly wet without even removing either of your clothes. Bicep flexing in his shirt as he adjusts his capture weapon, you silently settle on the outcome that you were absolutely fucked. 

Aizawa shifts uncomfortably in his seat and positions his seat belt delicately across his waist; the action makes your eyes dip down to the very noticeable erection in his pants before embarrassingly peeling away. 

“I guess I should go inside then.” You offer awkwardly while sliding the briefcase strap over your shoulder. 

“Yea...”

Aizawa swallows thickly and taps on the navigation screen for the fastest route back to UA while you open the passenger side door and wince at the cold wind blowing. Not totally standing upright, you pivot back to face him and take a breath of sexual-tension-induced courage. 

“So, I’ll see you next week then? For our date?”

The wording makes Aizawa whip his head in your direction this time, and his eyes are wide with dusted cheeks; he looks as if he wasn’t just sucking the nastiest bruises into your neck. “O-Oh, yea of course. Our date.”

You smile at his sudden reserved nature and lean over to plant a small kiss to the side of his cheek; lips brushing his slight stubble before you fully stand up and exit the car. Aizawa cranes his neck to watch you through the passenger window as you shut the door and offer a slight wave before running to the lobby of your apartment building to escape the winter wind.

His hand grazing the spot where you kissed him, Aizawa’s brain finally catches up with what just happened as all the oxygen escapes his lungs. You watch him from the entrance for a moment, enjoying the heat and giggling as he takes several minutes to compose himself. Phone pinging with ‘WYA’ messages from Keigo, you don’t bother to take your eyes off his car until it leaves the parking lot and drives down the road out of view. 

a/n : its finally doneeee

I've finally found a better way to get into writing and the speed at which i finished this is kinda impressive

ANYWAYS, it's getting steamy and i'm thinking of making ch.5 a whole moment hehe [plot will still be continuing dw, we will eventually fully learn what happened that night ;) ]

reblogs/comments/likes all appreciated! lmk if you wanna join the tag list

-oatmeal <33

Tags: @idkidk32 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @aizawasbaeee @smashley351 @beachaddict48 @lynnesm @lashaemorow @kriscr0ss @hotvillianapologist @loverofdeepspace

[menaiprowrestling]

San Francisco 1960-1985. Part 2

The Lion Lounge was the worlds longest running all male strip club. It was in SF, open seven days a week, and between 1960 and 1985 was owned and run by partners Eddie Jones and Raymond O'Hare.

Eddie and Ray were huge pro wrestling nerds and actually met at a pro show in 1950, so when they bought the Lion Lounge they knew they wanted to feature live underground pro wrestling shows. There was an underserved market of pro fans who preferred their wrestling more 'intimate', and they planned to serve it. And then some.

In the main bar upstairs is where the strippers would work, however it was downstairs where the best action happened, if you were a pro wrestling fan. Only accessible by 'downstairs' club members, the basement was a dark, cozy affair, with room for around 40 members. There was a small bar at the back of the room and a pro wrestling ring in the middle of the room.

Things started off slow, as they gradually introduced the wrestling shows. The lounge had always been a strip joint, so that element kept the dollars coming in. They put on some small invite only shows, hoping to build up a following through word of mouth. It worked, and within six months there were wrestling shows every night, with a waiting list for membership. They also built up a network of wrestlers of all sizes, ages and styles, who'd come and wrestle every week. Other wrestlers who were in town for a few days or weeks would come down and wrestle too. It was a great way to make some extra cash, especially if you caught the eye of wealthy member. SF was a destination for a lot of people escaping their shitty small towns/relationships/lives etc, who wanted a new start. If they could wrestle they could try out. Eddie and Ray really looked after all their wrestlers, particularly the younger ones, or the ones down on their luck. Helping them find places to stay or get jobs, or medical attention and provide them with wrestling gear. Younger wrestlers who didn't cut it in the ring were often employed as bar/waiting staff or busboys etc. The older wrestlers would often be employed as bouncers. Some wrestlers came and went, others stayed over 20 years, in various roles. Lifelong friendships were made, tag teams formed, relationships blossomed along with flings, rivalries, fall outs, affairs and jealousies.

Friday and Saturday nights were dedicated to sex wrestling, featuring more defined, clean cut looking types. The wrestling was real, but the sex/gimmick was the focus on these nights, with oil, rip and strip, mud wrestling etc. Sometimes the guys would just wrestle naked.

The 'proper' pro action happened on the other nights. There was usually 3 matches per night, with a sex round after each bout, where the winner fucked the loser. If the match was a draw then the audience would decide who topped who.

Mondays was always the newcomers night, where the younger wrestlers would face off. It was vital to do well here to try and bump yourself up the card, get yourself more matches in the coming weeks and months, and most importantly gain fans, who'd want to come and see you every time you wrestled.

Tuesdays was for the more established younger wrestlers, while Wednesdays was the night for the members who liked to watch a mix of older vs younger fights (bear vs cub was popular) and dad/son vs dad/son tag matches.

Thursdays and Sundays were the nights for the popular big boys and Lion Lounge championship title holders. These were the nights to see some really incredible singles and tag matches with the most popular men. Always a mix of tough technical matches and all out bloody brutal brawls. There would always be at least one chain match on a Sunday. V popular with the leather/S&M crowd.

Outside, the venue would have photos in display cases (taken in a small studio at the top of the building by Eddie) showing that weeks performers. On one side of the entrance would be the strippers, the other side would be the wrestlers.

The images here are of some of the wrestlers over the years.

[holbrookswifey]

Tag you're it

CM Punk (2024) x fem!reader

Summary: You're in a mixed tag team match against two of the Judgment Day members and after celebrating the win, you and CM Punk have a bit of fun backstage

Warnings: Smut MDNI 18+, unprotected sex, oral (M receiving), masturbation, public sex, slight name calling, major amounts of swearing

A/N: Any CM Punk girlies out there? I need more CM Punk mutuals 😅 He's starting to become one of my obsessions so I'm going to start writing for him too. Don't be afraid to send some requests in about anyone you'd like me to write about! I want to shout out my friend @metallicames because this poor woman has seen this obsession of mine more than anyone else and it's only been a week of this so bless her heart 😂___________________________________________

You and CM Punk are in a mixed tag team match against Dominik Mysterio and Liv Morgan due to their challenge so you and Punk couldn't resist nor back out. The Judgment Day have tried to attack both you and CM Punk but you both took all of them down and most of them have ran off, leaving you still fighting with Liv and Dominik.

Liv manages to land a few moves on you, causing you to tag Punk in and Dom comes in and fights him. As both men gather multiple hits on one another, Liv tries to attack Punk from behind before you intervene, landing a superman kick on her. The crowd roars in cheers as both of you manage to overpower Dom and Liv and gain the advantage.

You sling Liv over your shoulders as well as CM Punk doing the same with Dominik, both if you looking at each other with tired but determined faces, nodding to one another as you perform Punk's signature move on both of the JD members.

"GTS!!!" Michael Cole the commentator yells into his microphone, the crowd cheering louder than you've ever heard in your life. "CM Punk and Y/s/n just performed Go To Sleep on Dominik Mysterio and Liv Morgan!!" Pat McAfee also yells into his microphone.

Both you and Punk are panting heavily, sweat running down your bodies like both of you have ran a marathon without stopping. As quick as you can, both you and CM Punk pin down Liv and Dom, the referee slamming his hand down rhythmically to start the countdown. "1...2...3!!!" The crowd shouts and the bell rings to signal the fight is over. Your heart is racing and your breathing has elevated as the thrill of winning the match hits you like a tonne of bricks, the situation clicking into your head. You just won...

As you and Punk find the strength to stand up, you do a quick dap and although you aren't the hugging type, you both hug as well for a short while. You both look down to see Dom and Liv still on the ground, haven't recovered from the GTS you and Punk performed on them both, but the two of you head out of the ring and up the entrance ramp, heading back into backstage to recover from the match.

As the next matches commence for other wrestlers, you're sitting backstage and taking big mouthfuls from your water bottle to stay hydrated. Punk is doing the same thing, but he's only a few feet away from you, pouring the occasional streams of water onto his face and hair to cool himself down. You can't help but watch him do that when he's not looking, but sometimes he looks at you too from time to time, the strong but subtle tension forms between you two.

"That was quite the fight." Punk comments as he massages the water into his hair to cool his warm hot body temperature. "Those assholes know how to fight." You look at him as he keeps chatting to you, somehow breaking your quietness as you seem to be interested. "By cheating." You reply, a bit annoyed at the fact that the Judgment Day tried to interfere.

"That's how they are unfortunately." Punk replies as he unwraps the tape from off his hands and wrists, curling them to loosen the tightness inside his wrists. You stand up, groaning quietly as you stand up and stretch your back, a few small cracks coming from your spine to loosen the tension.

"I gotta admit seeing you pull off my finisher was kinda badass." Punk says full of confidence, almost trying to flirt. "Gotta keep the crowd entertained." You reply, attempting to stop your lips from turning into a smirk as you walk over to the water cooler and fill up your water bottle.

CM Punk walks up beside you, waiting to refill his bottle too. "Is that a complaint, Punk?" You can't help but tease him with words, causing him to chuckle and have his turn at the cooler, the soft sound of water filling his bottle can be heard in the background of your conversation. "No complaints here. We might have to team up more often." He says with a somewhat straight face, winking as he screws the lid back onto his water bottle.

You feel your body burn from something that you can't comprehend, but you straight away assume it's from arousal. You can tell he knows how you're feeling due to how much you two would sometimes unharmfully tease each other while waiting for separate matches without anyone seeing.

As Punk sees you holding your water bottle loosely, he decides to toy with you a little bit and grab it out of your hands, making your face show surprise but then a pout forms on your lips. "Hey! Give it back." You whine in fake annoyance but he decides to hold it up in the air as far as his arms can stretch, making you even more annoyed. While you're pouting, he's smirking, even laughing a little at your struggle.

Your small 5'6 stature is clearly too small for his 6'1 height and not to mention his long and strongly built arms. As you try and jump to grab your water bottle, Punk stands on the tips of his toes, still chuckling and smiling as he sees how desperate you are for the bottle. He keeps up the act, even running around with it until he opens the cap of the lid and squirts you with a small stream of water, making you squeal a little and makes him laugh even harder.

As you wipe your face off, you catch him off guard and grab the bottle from his hands, squirting him with the water too. His mouth is agape and he pants a little as the freezing cold water splashes onto his face and tank top, making you laugh and he laughs too, taking off his top and wiping his face. He then starts to chase you around until you're in an isolated area in the arena, grabbing you by the waist and also grabbing the bottle out of your hand.

As you try and reach for it while the both of you are still in a fit of laughter, he gently holds you against the wall, smirking as he douses you with the water again making the both of you laugh even more as you're stuck under the cold water. "Stop!" You try and say through fits of giggles, but of course living up to his name, CM Punk does not stop until he sees you're almost soaked from the water.

He shoots a toothy grin at you as he walks over to the nearest table and sets your water bottle down onto it with a soft thud, walking back to you, but when you know he's getting playful again, you try to escape but prives to be unsuccessful as he gently sets his hand on your stomach and makes sure you're against the wall. He keeps moving closer and kicks off his shoes until he's very close to you, the playfulness slowly changing into something more...sexually charged.

"You may be quick and strong, but you need a few more inches of height to reach that high." Punk teases as he cups your chin with his hand, the words he chose makes the both of you chuckle.

Before you know it, Punk leans in and gently presses his lips onto yours, catching you off guard before your eyes flutter closed and kiss him back. He encircles one of his strong arms around your waist, gently tugging you closer to his shirtless body. As soon as you wrap your arms around his neck, he hoists you up by your thighs, making sure they wrap around his waist. As the kiss starts to escalate, he lets his tongue slowly push into your mouth. You can't help but let a small moan out, using your own tongue as well as the kiss continues to heat up.

Punk lets one of his hands slide up your exposed stomach and under the exercise bra you're wearing, his hand finding your breasts and slowly kneads it, making you moan softly again. You run your fingers through his water and sweat covered hair, making his grip on your thighs tighten. He pulls away from the kiss, kissing straight down to your neck as he moves both of his hands down to your tight shorts, slowly pulling them down to expose your underwear.

He moves himself closer, the erection encased inside of his wrestling trunks is now very prominent as he grinds his erection against your clothed pussy. You let your head rest back against the white painted brick wall as he grinds himself against your throbbing pussy, groaning softly as his cock aches to be inside you. "Can you feel that? I'm so fucking hard."

You take off the bra, giving Punk a view to remember as his eyes immediately landing on your tits. "Looking sexy there, Y/n." Punk comments as he goes back to sucking and kissing your neck, his hands slowly tugging down your underwear and pooling with the rest of your clothes. Your breath hitches as you feel the cold air nip at your womanhood and the arousal between your folds isn't making much of a difference.

Punk pulls down his trunks, his cock slips out as his trunks fall with the rest of your clothes. He grabs his cock into his hand, slowly teasing your folds to get more of a reaction from you until he decides the teasing is over and puts his tip against your opening and pushes into you with one swift thrust. Both of you mean softly at the exact same time, his hard dick immediately stretching your walls to help you accommodate him with ease and comfortableness.

"Ohh fuckkkk." You groan as you hold on as tight as you can, the feeling of his cock buried deep making you feel like you might lose all of your strength. "Yeah. I bet you can feel me even more now, can't you?" Punk purrs into your ear as he grabs your thighs even harder and begins to pump into you with a slow but slightly rough pace, your mouth agape and your eyes closed as the moans slipping from your lips become music to his ears.

"Fuck your moans are so hot. If we weren't in public, I'd make sure everyone could hear you." Punk praises as he softly talks into your ear in a seductive way as he keeps moving his hips back and forth, the roughness beginning to amplify. As the roughness grows more and more over time, Punk's eyes are closed but his grunts and occasional moans ring through your ears and into your brain like a wave, encouraging your sounds too.

"Mmmh....goddamn...."CM Punk grunts into your ear, the sound of his voice so sexual that it makes the walls inside of you clench around his cock before they unclench, earning a rare whimper from him and a moan from yourself. "I'm so fucking close, baby..."He speaks as another moan follows after it. "I'm not gonna cum in you though, pretty girl." Punk says again as he keeps thrusting at a very strong pace.

"Want me on my knees?" You whimper into his ear, causing his grip on your thighs to tighten even more that they might become marks. "Not til you cum on my dick." He replies, his voice becoming deeper due to how horny he is. As he keeps going, he whispers words of encouragement and dirty things that drag your orgasm closer. You can't hold yourself back as your walls clench around his cock and you feel yourself cum, Punk's cock immediately soaked from it.

"Now...on your knees." He whines as he pulls out quickly. You immediately follow his command, almost falling onto your knees from how fast you climb onto them. Punk wraps his hand around his swollen cock, immediately pumping himself at a quick pace. His eyes squeeze closed again as his hand moves at almost lightning speed on himself, his head tilting back from how sensitive his cut head is every time his thumb or his palm makes contact with it.

You feel an overwhelming urge to help out, so while he's pumping himself, you slide your mouth onto his tip, making him seethe through his teeth. The sounds of desperation are now gone and are back to his manly grunts as both his hand and your mouth are working themselves on his swollen pink tip. "Fucking dirty girl." He rasps out, his voice now croaky as his cock hardens, ready to release.

As you pull away, Punk moans as his hot seed spurts out of his cock and onto your chest and runs down to your stomach, the warmth of his cum makes your body shiver. He lets his softening cock go, his hand leaning against the wall as he inhales air into his lungs.

As Punk's breath comes back, he feels proud of the scene in front of him. He helps you clean up as he uses baby wipes to clean his seed off of you, making sure there was no evidence left behind as you now get dressed as well as himself. He rests his hand back onto the wall next to you, his eyes landing on yours." You're crazy." Punk says in a serious tone but you know he's messing with you.

"Yeah?" You ask, making the both of you smile as he leans in and says in a low voice. "I dig crazy chicks."

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Prefect's Bathroom | Sebastian Sallow x OC #38

hehehehehehe

Summary: Sebastian wins a bet against Ominis after he breaks into the Prefect's Bathroom without the password. Only complication is that Evangeline is also in the Prefect's Bathroom.

Words: ~7,300

Tags: Smut Adjacent, Idiots in Love, Trope-y, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Mutual Pining, Friends To Lovers, Slow Burn, Longing, Unspoken Feelings, Romance,

Timeline: Early February

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

Read on AO3

Sebastian still sat on one of the benches near the pitch, his gaze fixed on the empty field where Gryffindor had just secured a narrow victory over Hufflepuff. The roar of the crowd still echoed faintly in his ears, though the stands had long since emptied. He smirked to himself, pride swelling in his chest as he replayed Evangeline’s fearless moves on the broom.

She’d been brilliant. And even though she'd taken more hits than anyone else on the pitch, Evie had held her own with her signature mix of precision and stubborn determination. He could still see her last-minute dive to deflect a Bludger aimed squarely at Garreth, her bat meeting the ball with a resounding crack. She’d spun midair, regained her balance like it was nothing, and grinned at the chaos she’d caused as the Bludger ricocheted toward the opposing team.

“That’s my girl,” Sebastian had muttered under his breath without thinking, hoping nobody on the stands had heard him.

After the game, Evangeline had barely paused to catch her breath before making her way to him, her face flushed and her hair sticking to her forehead.

She was still buzzing with adrenaline, and despite the bruise already forming on her cheekbone, she greeted him with that lopsided smile he couldn’t seem to get enough of.

“Rough match,” she’d said, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. Her voice had been hoarse from shouting, but she looked undeniably pleased with herself.

“Rough’s an understatement,” Sebastian had replied, his tone light, though he couldn’t keep the worry from creeping into his gaze. “I thought you were going to get yourself killed when you went for that Bludger near the hoops.”

“And miss the chance to take out their Chaser?” she’d teased, wincing slightly as she stretched her shoulder. “Never.”

He’d chuckled, shaking his head. “Reckless as always.”

“Reckless wins games,” she’d shot back with a wink.

They’d chatted for a few minutes longer, Sebastian making a half-hearted attempt to convince her to head straight to the Hospital Wing for a checkup. Predictably, she’d refused, insisting she was fine and wanted to at least make an appearance at the Gryffindor common room to celebrate with her teammates.

“Besides,” she’d added, her smile softening, “I’ll see you in the Undercroft later.”

Sebastian had nodded, watching her retreating figure as she made her way toward the castle with the rest of her team.

Now, with a few hours to kill before their usual meeting, Sebastian found himself wandering aimlessly through the corridors of the castle. He was eager to see her again—just the thought of their quiet moments together in the Undercroft made his heart race. But for now, he needed a distraction.

Which was how he found himself standing outside the Prefects’ Bathroom, a smug grin tugging at his lips as he stared at the ornate door.

Ominis had been so sure he couldn’t get in without the password, and Sebastian, never one to back down from a challenge, had decided to prove him wrong. The stakes were trivial—something about Ominis doing his Potions assignment next week—but the principle of the matter was far more important. He wasn’t about to let Ominis win this one.

Crouched in the alcove near the entrance to the bathroom, Sebastian’s fingers were steady as he manipulated his wand, muttering a series of carefully practiced incantations. This particular door had an unusually thick charm guarding it—one that made the lock feel heavier, more stubborn than others. But that didn’t faze him.

He’d cracked tougher protections on far less important doors.

“Almost there,” he muttered, his voice low and focused as he adjusted the angle of his wand, coaxing the lock to respond.

The enchanted mechanism gave a soft, satisfying click. The grin on Sebastian’s face widened, a mix of triumph and mischief lighting his features as he straightened. He had half a mind to gloat about this to Ominis later—though, knowing his friend, he’d probably just call him an idiot for breaking into a bathroom of all places.

Still, a win was a win.

Sebastian pushed the door open with a flourish, slipping inside and shutting it quietly behind him. His first impression was the warmth that greeted him, a stark contrast to the cool stone corridors outside. The air was thick with steam, perfumed with something faintly floral and sweet, and the flickering glow of enchanted candles bathed the entire room in a soft, golden light.

The space was massive, its high ceiling stretching far above, adorned with elegant mosaics of swimming mermaids and sea creatures that seemed to dance in the flickering candlelight. Columns of pristine white marble framed the room, their bases wrapped in golden ivy that shimmered faintly in the steam. Towels softer than any he’d ever seen were folded neatly on shelves, and a row of colored bottles containing what he assumed were bath potions lined one side of the bath.

He shrugged off his cloak, draping it over a nearby bench, and quickly pulled his top off before reaching to unbutton his trousers. If he was going to go to the trouble of sneaking in here, he might as well enjoy it.

But just as he hooked his thumbs into his pants, the sound of rippling water reached his ears.

He froze.

For a moment, he thought he’d imagined it, the faint sound barely audible over the bubbling of the bath. But then he heard it again—a soft, deliberate splash that sent his heart racing.

Slowly, Sebastian turned, his shirt still clutched in his hands. His eyes darted to the bath, scanning the surface of the water for any sign of movement. At first, he saw nothing but the thick layer of bubbles and the soft glow of the candles reflected on the water. But then—

A figure rose from beneath the surface, dark hair slicked back, water cascading down her shoulders.

Evangeline.

She wiped a hand over her face then blinked her eyes open.

"OH MY GOD!"

Sebastian, for once in his life, was utterly speechless.

His brain scrambled to catch up with what his eyes were seeing. Evangeline. She was in the bath. The bath. And the soft glow of the candles highlighted every angle of her face, her dark hair clinging to her wet skin. She was beautiful—breathtaking, even—and completely, devastatingly unaware that she’d just broken his ability to form coherent thoughts.

“I—uh—” Sebastian stammered, his face heating as he finally managed to avert his gaze. He took a half-step back, unsure what to do with his hands. “I didn’t—Merlin’s beard, Evie, I didn’t know you were in here!”

"Sebastian!" she sputtered, "What the bloody hell are you doing here?!"

Sebastian's mouth opened, but nothing came out. He was still processing the sight of her—her dark hair slicked back, the unobstructed view of her shoulders, her collarbones, and the soft curve of her neck.

“I—uh, long story,” he managed, his voice cracking slightly. He gestured vaguely toward the door, as if that would explain everything. “I was just trying to win a bet.”

“A bet?” Evangeline’s voice rose slightly, her eyes narrowing despite the flush spreading across her cheeks.

Sebastian winced, running a hand through his already-mussed hair. “With Ominis! I swear, I didn’t know you’d be in here!”

Evangeline groaned, sinking lower into the bubbles. “Of all the times—Sebastian, this is the Prefects’ Bathroom! You’re not supposed to be here!”

“Neither are you!” he shot back, his tone defensive before softening. “Wait... are you supposed to be here?”

She hesitated, her expression shifting slightly, and Sebastian couldn’t help the smirk that crept onto his face. “Thought so,” he muttered.

She scoffed, trying to push her hair back from her face, clearly trying to regain some control over the situation. "That's not the point." Her eyes narrowed, though there was something about the way she spoke that hinted she wasn’t completely angry. More... flustered than anything else.

“I—look, I’ll just go. I didn’t mean to intrude. You’ve got a good thing going here,” Sebastian stammered, dragging his gaze to the wall behind her, though his thoughts stubbornly refused to follow. His mind had already betrayed him, lingering on the tantalizing idea of what lay beneath the water and the thick cover of bubbles.

It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t every day he found himself in a situation like this—so close, so impossibly close, to the mystery that was Evangeline, with all her soft curves and pleasant fullness and—Merlin help him, the thought was maddening, and no matter how much he tried to banish it, it stayed.

Evangeline’s expression shifted, her initial embarrassment melting into something softer, though her cheeks remained pink. “You don’t have to leave,” she said, surprising both of them with the words.

Sebastian’s head snapped back toward her, his eyes wide. “I don’t?”

Evangeline waved a hand at the bath, her tone a mix of flustered and forced casualness. “It’s not like you can see anything with all these bubbles, right?

Sebastian blinked. He should say something. He should definitely respond with one of his usual quips—something clever, charming, and completely unbothered. But the words caught in his throat, and for a horrifying moment, he realized he couldn’t think of anything at all.

The very suggestion of being here, with Evangeline, surrounded by the steam and candlelight, and worse, the fleeting notion of joining her in the bath was wreaking absolute havoc on his nerves. His heart was pounding too loudly, his skin prickling, heat pooling quite unhelpfully deep in his abdomen.

Sebastian shifted his weight, crossing his arms in what he hoped was a casual gesture but really just a desperate attempt to ground himself. He clenched his jaw, forcing his gaze to the ceiling, as if staring hard enough at the enchanted tiles would magically cure the way his blood was running south.

“You, uh…” he finally managed, his voice a little hoarse. He cleared his throat, trying again. “You’re sure? I mean, I wouldn’t want to… you know, ruin your relaxation.”

She sighed then, a heavy, resigned sigh as she ran her hands down her face. Sebastian immediately found his gaze drawn to the way her breasts lifted with the movement, the water rippling gently around her.

"It's fine. You’re already here, aren’t you?" she murmured, "Might as well make yourself comfortable. Just... don't peek."

“You’re right,” he managed to croak. “It’s—um, yeah. I won't peek. It's fine."

Liar.

Evangeline gave him a sidelong glance. "Alright well... are you coming in?

This was a terrible idea and Sebastian knew it. He was already struggling enough just sleeping beside her every night. How was he supposed to function knowing he'd gotten naked in the same damn room as her? Only feet apart?! He should leave. He should turn and walk out, as fast as he could, before things escalated further.

Except he wasn't going to do that. He was already plastering his cocky grin onto his face, faking nonchalance. "Alright," he said, "But you’re going to need to turn around so I can get into the water."

Evangeline's eyes widened, her cheeks flushed as though she hadn't actually expected him to say yes. "Oh, um, right."

"No peeking," he said smoothly, though internally, his heart was hammering in his chest. This was the last thing he should be doing. But the temptation, the way she looked with the steam rising around her and the warmth of the room wrapping them both in an almost intoxicating haze—he couldn’t help himself.

He watched her turn away, and he allowed himself just a moment to stare at her, at the smooth skin of her back he'd never seen, the way her—

Hold yourself together.

With a sharp breath, he refocused on unbuckling his trousers, pulling them off as quickly as he could and tossing them aside before wading into the water, his body becoming obscured by the bubbles.

“Alright,” he said after a moment, "I'm... decent. Now you can—uh, you know, go back to… whatever."

Evangeline turned back slowly, her eyes avoiding Sebastian entirely. He, on the other hand, couldn’t help the way his gaze raked over her. She was standing with her chin barely above the water’s surface, her long dark hair cascading like a waterfall down her back. Her shoulders and collarbones were exposed to the steam, but the bubbles did a good job of concealing most of her form.

Sebastian cleared his throat, trying to break the silence and distract himself. "I have to say," he forced a smirk, leaning back slightly, "you’ve got a very... modest chin-to-water ratio there. How does it feel to be practically drowning in bubbles?"

Evangeline, caught off-guard by the shift in his tone, let out a small chuckle despite herself. She finally looked up, but only briefly—the flush on her face still very much present.

"I think this is optimal," she muttered, trying to match his teasing tone, but her voice sounded strained. "You’re the one who’s practically halfway out of the water."

Sebastian laughed, the sound light, but he couldn’t quite hide the nervousness that accompanied it. "I mean, it’s not exactly my fault I'm tall," he said, his grin widening as he stood a little straighter, feeling the water retreating from his chest, his broad frame casting a shadow over her.

"I—well, I can’t stand at full height without scandalizing myself," she muttered in response, lowering her voice as though the mere mention of the topic was something of a delicate subject. "Unlike you, I have more to hide than just..." Her words trailed off awkwardly.

Sebastian blinked, her words registering slowly, as though his brain was deliberately sabotaging him by processing them at half speed. His grin faltered, the corners of his mouth twitching as he caught the implication, his mind lurching into dangerous territory.

If she stood up straight...

The thought hit him like a Bludger to the chest, entirely unbidden and absolutely traitorous. His imagination, ever the overachiever, conjured an image vivid enough to make heat rise sharply to his face. It wasn’t just the idea of her standing, of water cascading down her skin, but the way his mind filled in the details he’d never actually seen—her soft, full breasts, every line of her figure outlined by the faintest sheen of water.

He had to physically hold in a groan. This was torturous. He was so hard and she was so achingly close and if he just swiped at those bubbles he could see everything. All those curves and soft spots he'd endlessly imagined but could never actually see or feel.

"Well um. Don't worry, the bubbles are doing a great job... covering everything." he said, his voice lighter than he felt.

Evangeline’s hazel eyes narrowed at him, her brows knitting together. “You wouldn't know that if you hadn't checked,” she shot back, her arms crossing over her chest in a defensive motion.

Sebastian’s smirk faltered, his composure threatening to shatter as his gaze betrayed him for the briefest moment. Because, Merlin help him, crossing her arms did absolutely nothing to help his predicament. In fact, it made things infinitely worse.

The motion pressed her very large and very unmissable breasts together, creating a tantalizing curve that rose just above the line of bubbles.

He cleared his throat and turned his gaze to the ceiling, to the enchanted tiles reflecting the gentle glow of the water, but the image of her lingered, burned into the back of his eyelids.

"What?" Evangeline demanded, her tone sharp but colored with curiosity and just a hint of self-consciousness.

"Nothing," he said too quickly, his voice a strained mess of embarrassment and panic.

Evangeline tilted her head, clearly unconvinced. Her eyes stayed narrowed, flicking briefly to the ceiling as if to see what was so fascinating about the enchanted tiles that he couldn’t seem to stop staring at.

“Fine,” she said at last. “If you say so. Now,” she continued, shifting in the water so that the bubbles swirled lazily around her. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to my routine.”

Her words pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts, and his brow furrowed as he glanced at her. “Your routine?”

“You know,” she said, gesturing vaguely. “Washing my hair, scrubbing the Quidditch grime off my skin, the usual.”

Right. Washing her hair. Scrubbing. His mind quickly supplied a vivid image of her lathering up her long, dark hair, water cascading down smooth, bare shoulders, soap clinging to soft curves—

Merlin’s beard, stop it.

“Of course. Obviously. Carry on. Don’t let me, uh, interrupt.” His voice was a little too fast, a little too high, and he winced at how transparent he sounded.

Evangeline arched a brow at him but didn’t comment. Instead, she reached for a small glass bottle perched on the edge of the tub. The motion caused her to shift forward, sending ripples through the water, and Sebastian turned his head away so quickly he nearly wrenched his neck.

Desperate for a distraction, he latched onto the first topic that came to mind. “So, Quidditch,” he said, his tone deliberately casual. “That was a brutal match. Should’ve guessed you’d need a bath after taking that many hits.”

Evangeline chuckled softly, the sound warm and unguarded. “It wasn’t that bad,” she said, pouring a generous amount of shampoo into her hands. “Hufflepuff plays rough, but they’re nothing compared to Slytherin”

Sebastian snorted, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye before quickly looking back at the wall. “Evie, you’ve got a bruise the size of Scotland on your cheek, and I’m pretty sure I saw you deflect a Bludger with your ribs at one point.”

She laughed at that, the sound light and genuine, as she worked the shampoo into her hair. “You exaggerate,” she said, though her smile was evident in her voice. “I deflected it with my bat. Mostly.”

“Mostly,” he echoed dryly. “You’re lucky you didn’t crack a rib. Again.”

Evangeline shrugged, tilting her head back as she began to work the lather through her hair. “It’s part of the game. You take the hits, you score the points, and you win.”

“You know,” he said, his voice strained but steady, “most people would consider ‘not dying’ a critical part of the game.”

“Not dying is overrated,” she said breezily.

“Clearly,” he muttered. Because it's killing me to just stand here.

Evangeline glanced at him then, her expression softening as she caught the tension in his posture, the way his gaze was fixed on the ceiling. “Sebastian,” she said gently, "You're going to break your neck if you keep staring up like that."

He scoffed, finally daring to look at her—at her face, specifically, though it took a concerted effort. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, his voice tight. “Feels safer than… literally anywhere else.”

Evangeline tilted her head, her brow furrowing in thought. “Sebastian,” she began, her tone gentle but teasing, “you really don’t have to act so... proper. It’s me. Hell, you’ve seen me covered in dirt, blood, and Merlin knows what else.”

Sebastian blinked, thrown by her words, though he managed to keep his expression neutral. If only you knew what I was actually thinking, he mused, his pulse quickening again.

Evangeline leaned back slightly, sinking deeper into the water so that only her head and shoulders remained visible. “Look,” she continued, gesturing vaguely toward the bubbles. “This bath is basically a fortress of foam. You couldn’t see anything even if you tried. Not that you would,” she added quickly, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

Sebastian clenched his jaw, unsure how to respond without giving himself away. Because the truth was that he absolutely would look, and yet she trusted him so implicitly, so easily, and that only made things harder. Literally and figuratively.

Evangeline went on, oblivious to his internal struggle, “So as long as you’re not sneaking a peek...” She smirked, her hazel eyes gleaming with mischief. “We’re fine, right?”

Sebastian exhaled slowly, squeezing his eyes shut. "Evie, you... have to admit, this is a little different. You're... for Merlin's sake, you're naked."

“I—” she started, her voice faltering slightly before she straightened, her tone shifting to something more defensive. “Yes, that’s generally how baths work.”

Sebastian groaned quietly, dragging a hand down his face. “That’s not what I—” He clenched his fists beneath the water, struggling for words that wouldn’t reveal exactly how much this situation was affecting him. “It’s different,” he said finally, his voice low and rough, “because this is not exactly the kind of situation we usually find ourselves in, alright?"

Evangeline’s gaze flickered with something—nervousness, perhaps, but also determination. He could tell she was fighting hard to make this feel normal, to force a casualness into the situation that simply didn’t exist. Her fingers toyed absently with the bubbles, her hazel eyes carefully avoiding his, though the faint pink on her cheeks betrayed her own awareness of how charged the moment was.

“You’ve told me you’ve seen girls naked before, and you’re—you know—experienced," she said, her tone breezy but faltering just enough to reveal the cracks in her confidence. “Surely you can handle female anatomy without combusting, especially when it’s covered by all these bubbles.” She gestured to the foam as if that would drive her point home.

Sebastian opened his mouth to respond but quickly shut it again when she continued, her voice gaining steam like she was psyching herself up. “And besides, this bath tub is basically a swimming pool if you think about it. People share those all the time, right?”

Was she seriously suggesting that this was no different from a casual swim? Did she really believe that this could be normal between them?

“And,” she added, her voice lighter, teasing, “it’s not like you even see me that way, so it shouldn’t matter. Right? It's not like I'm... you know, one of those girls you’re usually with,” Evangeline continued, her voice softening slightly, though she kept her eyes fixed on the bubbles in front of her. “All tiny and ethereal, with their perfect hair and… and their dainty little everything.”

Sebastian stared at her, stunned into silence. He hadn’t expected that—not the words, not the vulnerability laced beneath them, and certainly not the way they twisted something sharp and protective in his chest. Tiny and ethereal? Dainty? Was that really what she thought he wanted?

“Evie…” he began, but the words caught in his throat. What could he even say to that? That she was wrong? That those girls didn’t mean anything? That he’d never looked at them the way he looked at her? That she was—

He swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the edge of the bath to ground himself.

Evangeline shrugged, her smile small but brittle, the forced casualness in her tone grating against the quiet tension in the room. “It’s fine, really. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. It’s just—well, I’m not your type.”

Sebastian blinked, her words slamming into him and knocking the air from his lungs. “What... what's supposed to mean?”

Evangeline shrugged. "I’ve seen the girls you go for, Sebastian. They’re… well, they’re not exactly like me, are they?”

His mind reeled, scrambling to piece together what she’d just said. He couldn’t decide what infuriated him more—that she’d drawn such a conclusion about his 'type' or that she said it like it was an irrefutable fact. The absurdity of it was enough to make him want to laugh—if it didn’t sting so much. She couldn’t be more wrong. Evangeline was everything.

His gaze flicked to her, lingering for a moment longer than he should have. Her hazel eyes glimmered in the candlelight, their hues shifting between green and gold, framed by dark lashes. And her lips—Merlin, her lips—were full and inviting, the kind he’d spent far too much time imagining pressed against his.

Her dark hair, thick and cascading like silk, framing her flushed face and accentuating the soft curve of her cheek. The candlelight danced across her shoulders, highlighting the gentle slope of her collarbone and the tantalizing expanse of skin above the bubbles.

And Merlin, her body. The fullness of her curves—the soft swell of her breasts hidden beneath the foam, the dip of her waist, the roundness of her hips—left no space for the notion of fragility. Evangeline wasn’t fragile, and that’s what made her so maddeningly captivating. She was solid, real, and entirely captivating.

Sebastian’s thoughts wandered further, unbidden but relentless, bringing to mind every detail that had lodged itself in his head over the years. The way her thighs pressed together when she sat in class, soft and steady. The curve of her belly beneath fitted clothes, perfectly plush in a way that always made his gaze linger longer than it should. He loved the way her shoulders curved, the slope leading into arms that weren’t thin or dainty but perfectly hers—arms that had slammed Bludgers, hauled books, and wrapped around him more times than he could count.

She wasn’t just different from the girls he’d been with before—she was the opposite of them in every way that mattered. Those fleeting encounters with other girls had been just that: fleeting, shallow, and ultimately forgettable. But Evangeline? She wasn’t just his type—she was the type.

Merlin, did she really not see it? Did she not know that he couldn’t look at her without his heart speeding up, without feeling like every other girl in the world had been some bland prelude to the real thing?

“You’re wrong,” Sebastian said suddenly, the words spilling out before he could think to stop them.

Evangeline blinked, startled by the intensity in his voice. “What?”

He hadn’t meant to say that—Merlin, of all the times for his mouth to outrun his brain, why now? The words hung between them, heavy and unrelenting. This was not the moment to unpack every complicated, aching feeling he’d buried about her. Not when he was standing here, naked, a traitorous flush crawling up his neck, and every ounce of his focus was split between calming his erratic pulse and not letting his gaze wander too far south.

But Evangeline was staring at him, wide-eyed and expectant, her vulnerability still hanging in the air between them. He couldn’t take it back.

“Evie,” he began, his voice lower and rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat, trying again. "You’re wrong about you. About what I—about what anyone should see when they look at you.”

She blinked, her lips parting slightly in surprise. “I… I don’t understand.”

Sebastian exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair as he tried to find the right words. “Just because you’re not... thin or tiny or whatever ridiculous standard you’ve convinced yourself is important, doesn't mean you aren't... aren't beautiful.”

Evangeline’s lips pressed together, her brows furrowing as she regarded him cautiously. “You don’t have to say that,” she said softly, her voice tinged with disbelief. “I know what I am, Sebastian.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped, the frustration bubbling over before he could rein it in. “You think I’m saying this just to make you feel better? Do you really think I’d waste my breath if I didn’t mean it?”

Evangeline flinched slightly at his tone, and guilt stabbed at him. He forced himself to take a steadying breath, softening his expression as he moved closer, lowering himself into the water so he was closer to her eye level.

“Evie,” he said, his voice quieter now, gentler but no less firm. “You’re not some afterthought. You’re not some… alternative to whatever you think people expect. You’re..." he huffed a laugh, "You're enough to drive a man insane. Merlin knows I hear about it all the bloody time from every boy in Hogwarts."

Evangeline stared at him, her hazel eyes wide and disbelieving. After a beat, she opened her mouth to say something, but Sebastian cut her off, his voice softer now, trying to steer the conversation back to safer waters before the weight of his confession crushed them both.

“Look,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck and forcing a wry smile. “I didn’t come here to, uh, pour my heart out, alright? I came here to win a stupid bet with Ominis. So let’s just… focus on the fact that I’m clearly capable of handling this whole shared-bath situation."

Evangeline stared at him for a moment, clearly thrown off by the sudden change in topic, but eventually, her lips twitched into the beginnings of a smirk. “Clearly,” she echoed.

Sebastian shot her a pointed look, though he couldn’t quite hide the amused glint in his eyes. “I am! I’m perfectly capable of sitting here like a civilized human being and not making this any weirder than it already is.”

“Right,” she said, her smirk growing as she settled back against the edge of the tub. “Because you’ve been the picture of composure so far.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward despite himself. “I’m here, aren’t I? And I’m not running for the door, so I’d say that’s a win.”

“Hmm,” Evangeline mused, tilting her head as though considering his words. “I don’t know… your ears are pretty red. Are you sure you’re not seconds away from bolting?”

He groaned, crossing his arms. “For Merlin’s sake, Evie, give me some credit. If I were going to run, I would’ve done it the second I realized you were—” He gestured vaguely at the water, his face heating again. “You know.”

“Naked?” she offered innocently, the glimmer of mischief in her eyes making him want to throttle her and kiss her in equal measure.

“Yes,” he muttered, scowling at the wall to avoid meeting her gaze.

Seemingly unaware of his internal struggle, Evangeline moved to the edge of the tub again, reaching for the shampoo. The motion caused ripples to fan out across the surface, drawing Sebastian’s eyes despite his best intention, watching as the motion made her shoulders and collarbones shift so her chest hovered just slightly above the bubbles.

“Hair’s gone dry,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “With all this chatter, I’ll have to start over.”

Sebastian let out a short laugh, the sound half-nervous and half-relieved to have something innocuous to latch onto. “Can’t have that,” he quipped.

Evangeline straightened, bottle in hand, but when she turned back toward him, her movement stilled, her hazel eyes locking onto his. Her expression faltered for a moment as if she’d only just realized how much closer he was now.

Sebastian noticed the shift in her demeanor immediately. For someone as bold and unflinching as Evie, she suddenly looked… timid.

She cleared her throat softly, glancing down at the bottle in her hands before looking back at him, her voice quieter than he’d ever heard it. “Would you... would you like to help me?”

For a moment, the words didn’t register. When they finally did, Sebastian blinked, his thoughts scattering in a dozen different directions. “Help you?”

Evangeline nodded, her cheeks tinged with pink as she fiddled with the bottle, the motion uncharacteristically shy. “With my hair,” she clarified.

“Help you with your hair,” he repeated dumbly, as though he needed to confirm he’d heard her correctly.

Evangeline nodded again, the blush deepening on her cheeks as she looked away. “It’s just... it’s so long, it's a lot to deal with sometimes,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “And you’ve got… strong hands.”

His breath caught. Strong hands. Merlin help him, this was going to kill him.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” she added quickly, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I mean, you probably—”

“Alright,” he said, cutting her off before she could spiral further. The word left him before he’d even fully processed what he was agreeing to.

Her eyes snapped back to his, wide and searching. “Alright?”

Sebastian nodded, forcing himself to sound more confident than he felt. “Yeah, alright. Give me the shampoo.”

Evangeline hesitated for a moment before handing him the glass bottle, their fingers brushing in the exchange. The contact sent a jolt of warmth up his arm, but he forced himself to focus as he poured the lavender-scented liquid into his palm, working it into a lather.

She turned around slowly, her back to him now, her hair spilling over her shoulders like a dark curtain.

The strands were impossibly soft, like silk beneath Sebastian's touch, and he took his time, working the shampoo into her scalp with slow, deliberate motions. She let out a soft sigh, her shoulders relaxing under his hands, and the sound nearly undid him.

“Is this alright?” he asked, his voice lower than he intended.

She hummed in response, her head tilting slightly to give him better access. “Yes."

As he worked his fingers through her hair, his gaze wandered against his will. The curve of her neck, the faint dip between her shoulder blades, the way the candlelight played across her skin—it was too much and not enough all at once.

“You know,” he said finally, desperate to fill the silence, “I think I missed my calling. Maybe I should’ve gone into hairdressing.”

Evangeline let out a quiet laugh, the sound warming the space between them. “Don’t let Ominis hear you say that. He’ll never let you live it down.”

Sebastian smirked, his hands still moving through her hair. “Ominis already thinks I’m hopeless."

“You’re not hopeless,” she said softly, almost as though she hadn’t meant to say it aloud.

His hands stilled for a moment, her words hitting him harder than they should have. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. It was peaceful, almost domestic, and Sebastian couldn’t help but wonder if this was what it would feel like to be with her—to have her.

He shook the thought away. “Alright,” he said, his voice light despite the weight in his chest. “You’re all set to rinse.”

Sebastian watched as Evangeline dunked her head under the water. Her dark hair floated momentarily in the water before she emerged, gasping softly and slicking her hands over her face to clear the stray droplets.

She combed her fingers through her hair, wringing out the excess water, before reaching for the conditioner. But her hand paused mid-motion, and she turned back to him, her expression thoughtful.

“You know,” she said, her tone deceptively casual, “I could return the favor. If you want.”

Sebastian blinked, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“Your hair,” she said, gesturing vaguely toward him. “I could shampoo it for you. I mean, we’re already here.”

Sebastian swallowed hard. "Oh, yeah. Sure, if you want."

Her smirk softened into something almost coaxing, "Okay. But you're gonna need to sit by the edge. You’re too tall for me to reach properly otherwise.”

Sebastian muttered something under his breath about bossy Gryffindors but obliged, sinking deeper into the water and positioning himself with his back against the smooth, tiled edge of the tub. The heat of the bath was a poor match for the fire creeping up his neck, and he folded his arms over his chest, doing his best to look calm and unbothered.

“Alright,” Evangeline said, her voice light but tinged with a hint of mischief. “Now… close your eyes for a second.”

He frowned, tilting his head slightly toward her. “Wait, what—”

“Just do it,” she insisted, cutting him off with a tone that brooked no argument.

Sebastian huffed, closing his eyes with exaggerated reluctance, though the flicker of nervousness in his chest betrayed him. He could hear her moving beside him, the faint splash of water as she shifted, followed by the creak of tiles as she climbed out of the bath.

And that’s when his brain decided to betray him.

Evangeline—wet, bare, water streaming down her skin—was standing just behind him. The mental image slammed into him with a force that left him struggling to think straight. He tightened his grip on his arms, fighting the urge to glance over his shoulder and failing miserably to dispel the thoughts running rampant in his head.

The sound of her moving closer only made things worse. The quiet padding of her feet against the slick tiles, the faint drip of water as it rolled off her skin—it was infuriating. He tensed further when he felt her presence above him, warm and impossibly close. Her legs dipped into the water on either side of his shoulders, brushing against his arms as she adjusted herself. She was right there, perched on the edge of the tiles behind him, her plush thighs just inches from his ears.

“Alright,” she said softly, her voice steady but quieter now, more intimate. “You can open them.”

Sebastian hesitated, his pulse thundering in his ears. When he finally cracked his eyes open, he was greeted by the sight of her bare legs on either side of him, smooth and glistening in the candlelight. Her skin was warm where it brushed against him, and the closeness made his breath hitch.

“Evie,” he said, his voice low and a little rough, “What exactly is the plan here?”

"You said you’d let me shampoo your hair, didn’t you?”

Sebastian let out a strained laugh, turning back toward the water as if that would help ground him. “...Like this?”

“Well, I can’t exactly reach from where I was sitting in the tub, can I?” she replied, “This is just practical.”

Practical. Right. That was one word for it.

Sebastian shifted slightly, his muscles tensing as he tried—and failed—not to think about what would happen if he turned around. Her legs, warm and soft, framed his vision on either side, and the thought of what lay between them made his head spin.

Her hands threaded into his hair then, gentle but insistent, and Sebastian swore his heart skipped a beat. The sensation was utterly disarming—the warmth of her fingers against his scalp, the rhythmic motion as she worked the shampoo through his hair. He tensed at first, every nerve on edge, but the careful, deliberate way she touched him quickly unraveled his resolve.

“Relax,” Evangeline murmured, her tone soft, almost teasing.

Relax. As if that were possible.

Her fingers brushed the back of his neck, and his breath hitched. He wasn’t prepared for how much that small touch would affect him—wasn’t prepared for how easy it would be to imagine her hands lingering there, sliding lower, pulling him closer.

Merlin, he was doomed.

“You’ve got a lot of hair,” she said after a moment, breaking the silence. “I didn’t expect it to be this soft.”

Sebastian huffed a laugh, desperate for the distraction. “What, did you think I didn’t take care of it?”

“Well,” she teased, “I’ve seen how you treat your broomstick, so I had my doubts.”

Evangeline’s hands slowed as she worked in the last of the shampoo, her fingers kneading gently at his scalp. Meanwhile, Sebastian bit the inside of his cheek, trying to focus on anything other than the fact that her thighs were warm and soft against his shoulders.

“There,” she said finally, her voice light and casual, as if she wasn’t driving him absolutely insane. “That should do it. Now dunk.”

“Dunk?” he repeated, turning his head slightly, though the movement brought his cheek dangerously close to brushing her thigh.

“Yes,” she said, nudging his shoulder lightly with her knee. “Under the water. You’ve got to rinse it out.”

With a quiet sigh, he pushed himself forward and dipped under the surface. The warm water rushed over him, muffling the sounds of the room and giving him a brief reprieve from the onslaught of sensory overload. He resurfaced after a moment, shaking the water from his hair like a dog.

Evangeline huffed, "Charming. Now, sit still. We’re not done yet.”

“Not done? I thought we were washing, not renovating.”

“Conditioner,” she said simply, twisting the cap off the bottle.

“Conditioner,” he echoed, the word foreign in his mouth. “Can’t say I’ve ever used it.”

“Then I guess you’re getting the deluxe treatment,” she said innocently, though the glint in her eyes told a different story. “Now lean back.”

He immediately obeyed. Sebastian wasn't about to argue, not when he had the chance to prolong his stay between her legs and have her hands in his hair.

This time, somehow, he managed to relax, the tension in his shoulders easing as her fingers worked his hair. The scent of the conditioner was subtle and floral, and he found himself melting into the moment, the steady pressure of her touch lulling him into an almost trance-like state.

That is, until his head tilted back just a fraction too far, and he felt it—the soft press of her stomach against the crown of his head.

He stiffened instantly, his entire body going rigid as if he’d been struck by lightning. His immediate instinct was to open his eyes, but logic slammed into him just as quickly. He couldn’t do that. Not when she was perched just behind him, naked and utterly unguarded. If he opened his eyes now, he’d be looking straight up at—

Sebastian swallowed hard, every muscle in his body locked in place. He fully expected Evangeline to shove him away and demand he move back into the tub properly. Instead, she froze for only a moment before letting out the softest of breaths. And then, to his utter shock, her hands stilled in his hair before sliding downward, her fingers brushing along his temples until they cupped his cheeks.

His breath caught. His mind reeled. This was new.

“...Relaxed?” she asked softly, her voice tentative, almost shy

Sebastian was too stunned to respond immediately. Her touch was impossibly light, her thumbs grazing his cheekbones as if she was afraid of overstepping. But she wasn’t pulling away, and that fact alone sent his thoughts spiraling in a hundred different directions.

“I—” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat hastily, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “I… was.”

“...Was?"

“Well, you know,” he said, struggling to keep his voice steady as his heart thundered in his chest. “It’s a little hard to stay relaxed when someone’s holding your face like they’re about to—I don’t know—strangle you or kiss you.”

His words slipped out before he could stop them, and he immediately regretted it. He risked a small, nervous laugh, hoping she’d brush it off with one of her sharp remarks or teasing jabs.

But she didn’t. She stayed quiet, her hands still on his cheeks, her fingers twitching slightly as if she wanted to say—or do—something but was holding herself back.

“You think I’d strangle you?” she asked finally, her voice soft.

“I think you might be tempted,” he quipped, though his throat felt tight and his mouth impossibly dry.

Evangeline didn’t respond immediately, her silence stretching just long enough to make him squirm. Her hands moved then, her fingers brushing down his jaw before retreating completely. The absence of her touch left his skin tingling, and he fought the urge to turn and look at her.

“I guess you’ll just have to trust me,” she said finally, her voice low but laced with that familiar teasing edge. “I promise I won’t strangle you… unless you deserve it.”

Sebastian exhaled a laugh, though it came out shakier than he intended. “Good to know.”

She slid her hands back into his hair then, resuming her work as if nothing had happened. But the press of her stomach against the back of his head was impossible to ignore now, and the lingering memory of her touch on his face burned brighter than ever.

Merlin, he was so, so doomed.

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

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Gryffindor Divider Credit Support Divider Credit

[littlebignoona]

THE MOON SISTERS (SEVENTEEN FF)

SISTER SWITCH: MANAGER OF SEVENTEEN "I'm pregnant," she said quietly. Dabi choked on her tea. "What?" "I need your help," Dami added, her voice barely above a whisper.

Chapter 1

The growl of a motorcycle engine echoed through the city streets as Dabi pulled up to the martial arts building, the tires screeching slightly against the pavement as she stopped. She removed her midnight blue helmet, shaking loose her matching dyed hair that shimmered under the sunlight. Clad in a black leather jacket and boots, her confident stride exuded both rebellion and strength as she entered the gym.

The air was alive with energy: the sound of gloves hitting pads, laughter from teammates, and the occasional shout of encouragement. Dabi waved at her mixed martial arts team with a smirk.

“Look who finally decided to show up!” one of them teased, his voice playful.

“Don’t start with me, Jihoon,” she shot back with a grin, making her way to the back of the gym where a row of spray-painted lockers lined the wall. The art was a chaotic mix of graffiti tags and inside jokes, some of which Dabi had added herself. She peeled off her leather jacket, revealing slender arms adorned with small, scattered tattoos, each one holding a story she rarely shared.

As she tied up her hair, preparing for practice, her reflection in the cracked mirror above the lockers caught her eye. Midnight blue locks framed her face, a stark contrast to her tattoos and sharp expression. After slipping into her workout clothes, she stepped onto the mats, stretching as her teammates passed by, offering fist bumps and warm smiles.

“Ready to get your ass kicked by Coach Park?” Jihoon called out again, earning a chorus of chuckles.

“Keep talking, and you’ll be next,” Dabi retorted, rolling her shoulders as she stepped into the ring.

Coach Park stood across from her, arms crossed, his expression both stern and amused. But before they could begin, a voice rang out across the gym.

“Dabi!”

Everyone froze. Dabi turned, spotting a figure at the entrance. The newcomer was strikingly familiar—a mirror image of Dabi, save for her natural black hair and spotless appearance. She was dressed in a sleek black blazer and matching trousers, her sharp heels clicking on the floor as she entered. The gym fell silent.

Dabi’s smirk widened. “Dami?”

She ducked under the ropes, leaving Coach Park with a shrug, and ran to her twin sister, throwing her arms around her. “What are you doing here?”

Coach Park approached, arms still folded. “Twin sister?” he asked, eyeing the two with mild disbelief.

“That’s right,” Dabi answered proudly, still grinning. “This is my baby sister, Dami.”

The team greeted Dami with waves and smiles, but her demeanor was far different from Dabi’s. Where Dabi was loose and easygoing, Dami stood rigid, bowing politely to each greeting.

“Always so formal,” Dabi teased, nudging her sister. “Relax. These guys don’t bite.”

Dami only sighed, earning another chuckle from Dabi, who led her toward the back room.

In the quiet of the lounge, the twins sat across from each other. Dabi lounged back on a worn sofa, her posture relaxed, one leg draped over the armrest. Her smirk hadn’t left her face. Dami, meanwhile, sat primly in a chair, her back straight and hands folded in her lap, her ice coffee untouched in front of her.

“So, what’s the emergency?” Dabi asked, sipping her tea. “You don’t exactly drop by for casual visits.”

Dami hesitated, her fingers tightening around her cup. Finally, she took a breath and placed a hand on her stomach. When she looked up, fear glimmered in her eyes for the first time.

“I’m pregnant,” she said quietly.

Dabi choked on her tea. “What?”

“I need your help,” Dami added, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dabi leaned forward, staring at her sister as if she had grown a second head. “Help with what? You’re the golden child, remember? The perfect one. You’ve got this.”

Dami sighed, rubbing her temples. “I can’t take time off work. My job—it’s complicated.”

“Ask for time off,” Dabi said, still trying to process the news.

“I can’t,” Dami snapped, her voice sharper now. “I’m sleeping with my boss.”

Dabi leaned back, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “You? Miss Perfect? Sleeping with your boss? This just keeps getting better.”

“It’s not funny!” Dami shot back, her cheeks burning. “If anyone finds out, it could ruin me.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Dabi asked, folding her arms. “Keep it? Tell Mom and Dad? Elope with the boss?”

Dami nodded slowly. “He wants us to get married, but I need time to sort everything out. I can’t lose my job. I need you to take my place at work for a year.”

The room fell silent. Dabi blinked at her, incredulous. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m serious,” Dami said. “He knows the truth and agrees. I just need time.”

Dabi groaned, rubbing her temples. “You know I’ve got my own life, right? Competitions, the gym, my team.”

“One year,” Dami pleaded. “Please.”

Dabi studied her sister, noting the desperation in her eyes. Despite everything, Dabi couldn’t ignore the bond they shared.

“Fine,” she said finally. “But you owe me. Big time.”

Dami nodded, relief washing over her. As she stood to leave, Dabi leaned back, shaking her head.

“K-pop manager,” she muttered. “This is going to be a disaster.”

Dabi sat cross-legged on the gym floor, her teammates forming a loose circle around her. The hum of the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above, and the faint scent of sweat and rubber mats filled the air. Her team’s faces ranged from curious to concerned as she dropped the bombshell.

“So… I’m gonna be gone for a while,” Dabi began, running a hand through her midnight blue hair. “Not permanently. Just… I need to do something for my sister.”

Jihoon leaned forward, his brows furrowed. “What do you mean, ‘gone for a while’? What kind of thing?”

Dabi hesitated, glancing at Coach Park, who stood at the edge of the circle with his arms folded. Finally, she sighed. “Dami—my sister—needs me to take her place at her job for a year. Long story short, she’s pregnant, and she can’t risk losing her career.”

A ripple of murmurs spread through the team. “You? In an office job?” someone muttered.

“Yeah, hilarious, I know,” Dabi said, rolling her eyes. “But this is serious. She’s in a mess, and I’m the only one who can help her.”

“Do they know?” Jihoon asked, his voice low. “Her coworkers? Her boss? Anyone?”

“Her boss knows. That’s it,” Dabi said firmly. “The rest of it stays a secret. I’m telling you all because you’re my team. I trust you, and you deserve to know what’s going on.”

The room fell quiet. It was rare for Dabi to get this serious, and her teammates seemed to sense the weight of her words.

Coach Park broke the silence, his tone gruff but warm. “I appreciate the honesty, Dabi. But don’t think you’re off the hook. I still expect you here for practice.”

Dabi grinned, the tension breaking slightly. “Wouldn’t dream of skipping, Coach. I’ll come by on weekends when I can.”

The team nodded, their initial concern giving way to support. Jihoon clapped her on the back. “You’ve got this, Dabi. Just don’t forget us when you’re hobnobbing with the rich and famous.”

Later that evening, Dabi trudged up the stairs to her tiny apartment, her boots echoing in the quiet hallway. Inside, the familiar chaos greeted her: a pile of mail on the counter, an unmade bed, and a punching bag swaying gently in the corner. She grabbed a duffel bag from her closet and began packing. A few changes of clothes, toiletries, and a worn leather journal went into the bag before she zipped it up.

She took one last look around her apartment before heading out. “A year,” she muttered to herself, slinging the bag over her shoulder. “I can survive a year.”

The contrast hit her the moment she stepped into Dami’s apartment. The space was pristine, filled with soft, neutral tones and expensive furniture that screamed “success.” The faint smell of lavender hung in the air. Dabi felt out of place immediately, her scuffed boots leaving faint marks on the polished floors.

“Dabi,” a smooth voice called, and she turned to see Dami’s boss—and apparent lover—standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He was tall, with neatly combed dark hair and a sharp outfit  that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe.

“Mr. Perfect, I assume,” Dabi said, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled, extending a hand. “I’m Seo-jin. And thank you, truly, for helping out. I know this isn’t ideal.”

“Yeah, you think?” Dabi shot back, shaking his hand.

Seo-jin’s expression softened. “I’m doing everything I can to support her. I’ll keep the secret, and I’ll make sure no one suspects the switch. But Dami and I both know this is asking a lot of you.”

Dabi crossed her arms, her gaze sharp. “Good. Just keep your end of the deal. I’m not about to wreck my life for nothing.”

Seo-jin nodded solemnly. “Of course.”

As Dabi made her way to the guest room, she couldn’t help but glance back at Seo-jin. Despite herself, she could see why her sister had fallen for him. But she wasn’t here to judge—she was here to protect her sister’s future.

And for the next year, she would have to become someone she barely recognized.

The faint hum of a hairdryer filled the luxurious bathroom of Dami’s apartment. Dabi sat on a stool in front of the marble counter, her midnight blue hair draped over her shoulders. Dami stood behind her, a pair of gloves on her hands and a determined look on her face.

“This feels like a funeral,” Dabi muttered, glancing at her reflection as Dami worked the black dye into her hair.

Dami rolled her eyes. “It’s called blending in, Dabi. Midnight blue isn’t exactly subtle for a corporate office.”

“It’s my signature,” Dabi shot back with a smirk.

“Well, now it’s my signature, and I need to keep my job,” Dami said, gently tugging a strand of hair. “Besides, I’m the one who’s really taking the risk here. I’m going to America for a year so no one finds out about this.”

“America, huh?” Dabi quirked an eyebrow. “Living the dream, running away from your problems. What happens if someone figures it out while you’re gone?”

“They won’t,” Dami said confidently. “Seo-jin will keep his mouth shut, and you’ll follow the script. As long as you don’t act like you, we’ll be fine.”

Dabi laughed, a low, throaty chuckle that filled the room. “You make it sound so easy. Act boring, follow rules, look like a robot—basically, just be you.”

Dami paused, shooting her sister a mock glare in the mirror. “You’re not that funny.”

“No, but I’m right,” Dabi teased, leaning back slightly.

Once the dye was applied, Dami set a timer and leaned against the counter, watching her sister. “Where’s the leather jacket?” she asked. “You’re going to need to retire that too.”

Dabi let out an exaggerated groan. “You’re stripping me of my identity piece by piece. Next, you’ll tell me I can’t wear my boots.”

“I already ordered flats in your size,” Dami said with a grin.

Dabi shot her a look. “You’re evil.”

Later, with her newly dyed black hair and a slightly annoyed expression, Dabi followed Dami into the living room. She looked around the apartment again, her eyes scanning the pristine furniture, the minimalist decor, and the color palette of whites and grays.

“Your place is as boring looking as you are,” Dabi said, dropping onto the couch with a dramatic sigh.

Dami turned, her mouth falling open in mock indignation. Without hesitation, she swatted Dabi’s arm.

“Ow!” Dabi laughed, clutching her arm theatrically. “Assault! Call the cops!”

“You deserve it,” Dami said, shaking her head, but a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

“You know I’m right,” Dabi quipped, still chuckling.

Dami led her down the hall to the guest room, opening the door to reveal a neatly arranged space. The bed was perfectly made, the walls adorned with bland artwork, and a vase of white flowers sat on the nightstand.

“This is where you’ll stay,” Dami said, motioning to the room.

Dabi dropped her duffel bag on the bed and scanned the room with a critical eye. “Yeah, this checks out. Boring.”

“Don’t start,” Dami warned, crossing her arms.

“I’m just saying,” Dabi said with a grin, “a little color wouldn’t kill you.”

Dami rolled her eyes, turning to leave. “Make yourself at home. Just… try not to ruin anything.”

Dabi flopped onto the bed, letting out a dramatic sigh. “You mean try not to have fun, right?”

Dami didn’t answer, but the faint sound of her laugh echoed down the hallway, leaving Dabi alone in the guest room, her grin fading into a thoughtful expression. This was going to be a strange year.

The next morning, the apartment was filled with an unspoken tension as Dabi and Dami stood near the door. The stark contrast between the twins had never been more apparent—Dabi in her casual leather jacket over a hoodie, and Dami in a chic black trench coat that screamed professionalism.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Dami said softly, her arms wrapped tightly around her sister in a rare show of vulnerability.

Dabi smirked, her arms squeezing back just as fiercely. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

Dami pulled back, her lips twitching upward despite the tears threatening to spill. The twins locked pinkies in their childhood tradition, sealing their bond silently.

“You’ve got this,” Dabi added. “Now, go make boring look glamorous.”

Dami laughed lightly before nodding. Her lover—now fiancé—waited patiently by the door, his suitcase in hand. She walked out without looking back, the weight of their secret heavy in the air.

By the time Dabi stepped into the lobby of HYBE Entertainment, she was in full character mode. Her casual swagger was tempered by a deliberate air of professionalism—her sister’s warnings echoing in her mind.

She nodded at the security guard at the front desk, who looked up in mild surprise at her acknowledgment. “Morning,” she said casually, sliding her ID across the scanner with ease.

“Good morning, Manager Oh,” the guard replied, still looking stunned.

Dabi chuckled to herself as she walked toward the elevators. Manager Oh felt so foreign, it was their mother’s maiden name. Unlike the last name she used, Moon, which was her father’s, who raised her after their parents divorced. She scanned her face at the security check, and the panel beeped in approval, granting her access.

As the elevator doors slid open, she stepped inside, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. She hit the button for her floor just before a soft chime signaled the elevator stopping again. The doors opened to reveal a group of ridiculously handsome young men, all in casual but trendy attire that screamed idol status.

Dabi raised an eyebrow but quickly plastered on a polite smile. She stepped to the side to give them space, bowing slightly. “Good morning.”

The idols blinked in surprise before bowing back. “Good morning,” one of them said, his voice smooth, his tone slightly cautious.

They stood in silence as the elevator climbed, the air thick with the mix of polite professionalism and curious glances. Dabi could feel their eyes on her, as if they were trying to piece together who she was.

She let out a low sigh, not out of irritation but out of habit, as her newly dyed black hair tickled her shoulders. Without thinking, she reached up, gathering it into a high ponytail. As she secured the hair tie, she missed the subtle shift in the group’s demeanor.

One of the idols—leaning casually against the wall—noticed the faint outline of ink peeking out from the edge of her sweater. His eyes lingered on the tattoo for a moment longer than necessary, curiosity sparking in his gaze.

Dabi, oblivious, adjusted her bag strap again and glanced up at the floor numbers lighting up. This was going to be interesting.

She got off the 20th floor, bowing at the artists, who quickly bowed back, before she made her way towards her seat. She greeted everyone with a smile, as they slowly eyed her. 

Chapter 2

[graveyardhorror]

HOW YOU MET

>SUPERSTARS MASTERLIST

➽────────────────────❥

DEAN AMBROSE/JON MOXLEY

-You meet backstage before your first (mixed) tag team match together, he stares at you but focused for the match making you nervous

-During your match though he throws surprisingly encouraging words your way to motivate you, you both work together seemingly effortlessly and get the win almost as if you've been working together for a long time

ROMAN REIGNS

-Being a big fan of Roman and also a new WWE commentator, you catch Roman's attention with your obvious jabs at his opponent's performance

-He can't help but let out a few laughs when you so blatantly take jabs at his opponent when he gets a few hits in, but praise him when he turns the match around

SETH ROLLINS

-When he makes his solo debut after the shield breaks up, he goes to you (his new seamster/seamstress) to have a meeting about his new wrestling attire

-Love at first sight was what he experienced when he laid his eyes on you for the first time, he can't help but be nervous under your curious gaze as you ask questions while sketching potential ring attire for him

RANDY ORTON

-After one of his many successful matches he walks backstage to be interviewed, you happen to be the new interviewer at WWE and he is surprised at the impression you leave on him

-While doing your job you can't help but be a bit awestruck as he flirts with you confidently live on television, this will definitely not be your last time meeting

FINN BALOR

-When he debuts at WWE you happen to be making your debut as the new ring announcer, his nervousness melts away as he locks eyes with you at the top of the ramp while making his entrance

-You helped him focus on the match by shouting his name in such a way that made him feel confident and strong (the crowd also helped)

NEVILLE/PAC

-After being drafted from TNA you enter the NXT performance center to start training and run into another new NXT recruit

-Being just as nervous and excited to start working your way up to the WWE roster, you both exchange shy glances as you practice and work out together

➽────────────────────❥

[the-sinful-voice-witch]

Here's my SONIC 3 input:

Ehem, first: KYAAAAAAAAA SHADOW AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA MARIA KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAA POST CREDIT SCENE KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

And now... To hell with the theories I wrote years ago after the second movie because I didn't write a single thing right 😂😂😂, well no... I got one wish coming true at least, Keanu reeves as Shadow 😍😍😍 .

Now I'm going to comment about how the thing with Shadow and Maria was handled and I'm going to theorize a bit again about the next movie... See if this time I get something right🥲🥲🥲 well anyway the old posts are still in my profile if anyone wants to read an alternative storyline and now... Spoilers under the cut:

I should be mad given how adamant I was about this but I'm not because thankfully everything made sense and it was well written though I can't help to feel a bit disappointed... I'm a shadamy fan what did you expect 😂😂😂? But no shadamy for us because it wasn't Amy the one who changed Shadow's mind but fortunately unlike that disgraceful time in Sonic X this time there was no tag along human involved, it was Sonic himself who did it and in this context it was perfect. You see the movie version of Maria wasn't even a sick girl, she was a healthy cheerful kid that... To me had a personality that felt like a combination of Sonic's (movie version) and Amy Rose's (current Amy in general because we don't know yet about her movie version) personalities like for real all the silly things she does is something Sonic or Amy would do, is like if Sonic and Amy had a kid she would have this version of Maria's personality 🥰🥰 and girl... Unlike the original, Maria doesn't even get to say any last words to Shadow before dying because this time the shooting instead caused an explosion that killed her instantly 😭😭😭 somehow that made it even worse! And she wasn't sick! She had all live ahead of her and G.U.N motherfuckers took it away! SHE PLAYED THE GUITAR 😭 Shadow remember her playing! This was a massive heartbreak...💔💔💔💔

Anyway... Shadow hurts Tom thinking it was another specific person (also feel bad about him, he actually tried to stop the idiot from shooting and considered Shadow a kid like Maria), that triggered Sonic into wanting revenge and somehow Shadow in a way feels validation on his vengeful feelings and accepts his fate wanting Sonic to finish him but Sonic obviously won't give him that satisfaction and instead teaches him about focusing and validating healthier feelings: Even though Maria and Longclaw aren't here anymore the love we had still remains and Shadow then remembered the conversation he had we Maria watching the Stars, even though the star is gone it's light remains and that's how he changed his mind so yeah no Amy no Shadamy but how can I be mad at this?🥹🥹🥹🥹 It was perfect. So even though there's no Shadamy... at that doesn't mean there's no Amy because.... THIS HAPPENED IN THE THE POST CREDIT SCENE: 👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇

OMG I CAN'T BREATHE! THAT ENTRANCE!!! YESSSSS MY GIRL AMY ROSE IS OFFICIALLY PART OF THE MOVIES KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SHE IS SO CUTE SO CUTE🥹🫠🫠❤️ I LOVE HER!!! I HATE WE CAN'T SEE HER FULL OUTFIT😖😖😖😖

Finally finally FINALLY ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥, well she finally here so is time tooooooooo THEORIZE!!!😂😂😂, she if I get something right this time:

Well first Amy wasn't the only one showing up in that scene... We also have the introduction of Metal Sonic and that means everything makes sense and is connected my guess is that next movie could be a mix between the Sonic game in which Amy and Metal Sonic were introduced and the game Sonic heroes.

So, in the games Amy and Metal Sonic were introduced together and Amy was waiting in a specific place because the tarot cards told her and then se meets Sonic and metal Sonic, last one kidnappes her, Sonic saves her and then she falls in love with him and in the Sonic heroes game Metal Sonic shows up again and Sonic team along other characters team has to defeat it, then what exactly happened in the post credit scene? Multiple Metal Sonics attack him and he is struggling because he is outnumbered and then Amy Rose steps up and using her hammer as a boomerang saves him.

We have some changes, obviously Amy has her movie version of her current games version and not the look she had when she was introduced in the games though they might show us that look in a flashback or an eater egg, then this time instead of facing one metal Sonic we have a group of them and instead of Sonic rescuing Amy it's her who helps him being already a fighter, I'm going to assume she knew where to go thanks to her tarot cards like in the game what I don't know is if she is simply there because the cards guided her and after seeing what was happening she wants to help or if she has an specific mission. Another guess is that she is not going to fall in love immediately, I think Sonic will be the first one crushing for the sheer factor of Amy being the second Hedgehog he ever met but the first female hedgehog and she probably has seen other hedgehogs before 😂😂😂 so with the personality he has in the movies I think he will be: "I wanna look cool to her but I'm being a clumsy fool, earth swallow me please" 🫠🫠🫠like... Movie Sonic is a freaking teenager actually acting like a teenager, Amy will like him too but she won't be as obvious as she used to be and she won't be that clumsy because she looks like she's probably used to interact with other alien furros.

As for Metal Sonic, seeing his robotics clones is like he is taking Shadow's place in Sonic heroes who is you don't remember had multiple robotic clones of him, probably none of those clones were the original Metal Sonic also his existence makes an excuse for Omega to exist and wanting to eradicate all eggmans robots as revenge for setting him aside when obviously he is the superior robot 😂, we love you Omega 🥰🥰 also at the end of the movie we know that Shadow is alive as you remember he was still super Shadow and was hit by the explosion in the space and that must have knocked out all the chaos emeralds and spilled them around the universe and that will be the reason for ROUGE my dear waifu to appear! She probably found one and as the treasure hunter she is she will want to gather all of them as a result we have all the pieces we need for TEAM DARK! I don't think we're going to have team rose, we'll have to accept Team Sonic and Team dark, I think that's enough for a good Sonic heroes references along metal Sonic who obviously will be the final boss becoming a giant robomonster at the end.

I'll add an extra, I expect Knuckles to tease the hell out of Sonic because of his crush on Amy only to get the tables turned on him when they meet... The sexy bat thief ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 and Tails complaining that they're gross 😂😂😂 and obviously I want Amy to show interest In Shadow and I want Sonic jealous... I'm not asking too much 🤡🤡🤡

End of theories, hope you like them, see you in another post 🤪🤪😂😂