#mock court session

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #1220: A Jamboree Court (Super Smash Bros Ultimate X Mother 3)

12:10 p.m. at the Smash Mansion's Living Room........

Kumatora: (Laying the Back of her Head Onto her Boyfriend, Ludwig's, Lap While Playing Video Games on her Switch) Hey, Luddy, whatcha reading up there?

Ludwig: (Reading a Book) The Diary of an Enraged Koopa. A very old folktales of a story, but gets more intriguing once you find a good amount of twists and turns the more you get invested. What game are you playing down there?

Kumatora: Thie first Fatal Fury game. The controls are as stiff as any other old fighting game in that Era, but it's still a pretty fun experience until you've reached-

Terry, the character she's playing, scream is suddenly heard on Kuma's Switch right before the announcer screams out the words "K.O."

Kuma: ('Groans in Annoyance') Geese. (Turns her Switch off on Sleep Mode Before Setting it on the Coffee Table Beside Her)

Ludwig: You're taking a break already?

Kumatora: For now. I've been trying to beat that guy since last night and my ass keeps getting handed to me in a platter with those DUMB counterattacks of his! ('Sigh') It's annoying......

Ludwig: I bet. But try not to give up hope just yet. (Gives Kuma a Reassuring Smile on his Face) I'm sure you'll finally be able to claim your victory in due time.

Kumatora: Oh, trust me, It'll happen. And I will DEFINITELY rub it on his pixeled face the whole way through. (Stretch her Arms and Back Out a Little Bit) But right now, I just wanna sit back, relax, and watch my prince of a boyfriend read his book from down below.

Ludwig: You sure that's you want to do? It could get you bored within seconds.

Kumatora: (Shrugs) Fine by me. I can handle the boredom. (Forms a Seductive Smirk on her Face) So long as I could get a nice glimpse of that good looking face of yours~ (Makes a Small Kissing Sound Towards her Boyfriend)

Ludwig: ('Heh') (Closes his Book and Place it to the Side) Tell you what, as token of your bravery and flattery- (Looks Down and Smirks Back at his Girlfriend) How about I put my reading time on hold and just kiss you instead?~

Kumatora: (Giggles a Bit) Yes please~

The young couple slowly lean their heads over to one another for a kiss until a loud sound of crying and sorrow suddenly rings both their eardrums.

'WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHAAAH'

Kumatora: The hell!? (Turns to the Source of the Crying Along with Ludwig)

Ludwig: Father?

Bowser: (Looks Up to See the Young Couple While He's Down on his Knees, Wiping the Tears Away From his Eyes) Oh. ('Sniff') Hey, kids. ('Sniff') Wassup.

Kumatora: Is.....everything okay over there, Mr. K?

Ludwig: (Sighs While Pinching the Bridge of his Nose) Please don't tell us you got rejected by mother for the umpteenth time.........

Bowser: (Glares at Ludwig) No!....Well. I mean, I did, but.....('Ugh')Just take a look at this!!! (Shows Kuma and Ludwig a Flyer He's Holding in his Hand)

Kumatora: (Leans Over to Read the Flyer) Super Mario Party Jamboree 🎉 🎉

Ludwig: Ah so they're planning to host another party later this year?

Bowser: Yeah, and they just banned ME from ever participating!! EVER! (Starts Whimpering) ('Sniff') I'm not even allow to get any slice of cake.......

Kumatora: (Turns Away While Rubbing the Back of her Head Back and Forth) Well, to be fair, you have been terrorizing those parties since the very beginning, so......(Turns Back to Bowser) Wait, haven't you gotten invited to one at some point?

Ludwig: Yes, he has. (Rolls his Eyes) And for SOME idiotic reason, he managed to botched up any chances of ever coming back in the party after.

Bowser: Will cut your old man some slack already!?(Crosses his Arms Together) You sound just as bad as your mother and her stupid plumber-knight boy toy! Besides, my reason for doong it wasn't that stupid at the time.....

Ludwig: (Gives Bowser a Deadpinned Look on his Face) Father, you willingly chose to go back to your old, scheming antics just because you got bored. How else are we supposed to react to that?

Kumatora: Yeah, that was pretty stupid on your part, sir.

Bowser: (Slouches his Arms Down in Pure Sadness) I KNOOW!!! That was practically my golden ticket to finally get invited to every new party set up and I just BURNED it all down to ashes! (Covers his Face While Crying Some More) What the hell is wrong with meeheeheeheeheeheeeee!?~

Ludwig: Sometimes I wonder......

Kumatora: (Gently Slaps Her Boyfriend's Arm While Lightly Pouting at Him) Luddy. (Gives Bowser a Small, Reassuring Smile) You've really been missing that Mario Party life these days, huh?

Bowser: (Wiping More Tears Off his Face) Yeah. I mean.....('Sniff') I know it was never the most normal, safest party out there, but it was still a fun time all around. For the most part. ('Groans') I gotta get back on that invite list damnit!!

Ludwig: Well, if all else fails, you could try and take this to Smash Bros Court.

Kumatora: (Turns Back to Ludwig) You guys have a court sessions here?

Ludwig: Only mock ones. It's mostly use to settle simpler, more trivial disputes like: who stole and ate all the cookies from the cookie jar, who's more worthy of using the remote controller to the living room's TV for the next few days, and so on. Mother Peach and Mario are the judges, so it'll might be harder to convince them otherwise......

Bowser: (Happily Wraps his Arm Around Ludwig's Shoulders) Which is all the more reason why I'm appointing you and your girlfriend as my two lawyers.

Ludwig: (Puts on an Unsure Look) I don't know, father....Don't you already have lawyers of your own? Surely they have the time to fill in.

Bowser: Who? Ted and Phil? Nah, they've already quit a long time ago. (Place his Finger on his Chin) I think one of them already got sued or something?

Kumatora: (Casually Salutes to Bowser) Well, you can already count me in, sir.

Ludwig: (Turns Back to his Girlfriend) Kuma? You sure you want to get involved in this?

Kumatora: (Happily Nodded) Yeah, the whole thing a mock trial, right? It could be fun for the both of us.

Ludwig: Pretty certain you'll have more enjoyment out it than I will....

Kumatora: Come on, give it a chance, babe~

Kumatora/Bowser: PLEEEEEEEEEEASE?~

The princess and king then proceeds to wobble their lips up and down as they present Ludwig two sad puppy dog eyes. There hasn't been a single person brave enough to turn down such a adorably cheap tactic yet, let alone someone as intelligent and mature as the oldest of the Koopaling Family.

Ludwig: ('Sighs in Defeat') Okay, fine. I'll represent as another lawyer.

Bowser: (Happily Hugs His Son on One Side) Thanks, son!~

Kumatora: (Happily Hugs her Boyfriend om the Other Side) We promise you won't regret it, babe!~

Ludwig then receives kisses on both sides of his cheeks from both his love ones.

Ludwig: (Rolls his Eyes a Bit While Blushing a Bit) Yes, yes, I'll take your word for it or what have you....(Turns to Bowser With a Raised Eyebrow) I sure hope you're ready to take this case more seriously, father.

Bowser: ('Heh') Please. Your old man's the most serious man alive! I got this.

Few Minutes Later at the Smash Bros Courtroom.......

Bowser: (Drops Down on his Knee, Begging and Crying his Eyes Out in Front of the Judges and Everyone Else Present in the Courtroom) Please, Please PLEAHEESEE get me back on the party list! I promise with all my heart, soul, and MIGHT that I'll be on my best behavior, from start to finish!

Mario: (Raises an Eyebrow While Sitting Next to Peach on the Conjoint Judges Desk) Really? Give us one good reason why we should.

Peach: (Glares at Bowser) And it better not be because you're bore!

Bowser: That's definitely not the reason at all, i swear! The second to last party you invited me to was most fun I've ever had in long time! I can't let it all go to waste now!!

Ludwig: (Walks Over to Bowser's Side While Wearing a Laywer Suit with his Hair Tied Up in the Back) It's true. The day you invited our client to the party for the very first time in years has been one of if not the most happiest days of his abnormal life. His very own words, not ours.

Kumatora: (Walks Over to the Other Side While Wearing a Light Blue Colored Suit of her Own) His actions so far today only shows how deeply regretful and apologetic he truly feels for returning old, more devious habits in the party after.

Bowser: IT'S KILLING ME INSIDEE!!

Kumatora: (Gently Pats the Top of Bowser's Shoulder) It is killing the poor man slowly inside, folks. Have mercy.

Ludwig: (Shows the Judges Kamek, Sitting in the Spectator Chairs, Happily Waving Hello to Him and Bowser) Our client's father/my grandfather is more than willing to return his role as the host of the Unlucky Spaces in his place. And we can assure you all that he will do anything you request him to do going forward, so long as it's legal.

Mario/Peach: (Slowly Raises Eyebrows at the Trio) Anything?

Bowser: Well, I wouldn't really go that far-(Suddenly Felt Ludwig Kicking him in the Thigh Before Ultimately Giving In) ('Agh') Okay, okay, fine! I promise. I'll do anything you asked, no charge necessary! Starting with the chores! (Grimaces at the Thought) Just.....please don't make wear that dumb maid outfit again......

Bayonetta: (In the Spectator Seats) Awww but you absolutely wonderful in that gown, darling!~

Bowser: (Comically Glares at Bayonetta in Particular) I look like someone's great grandma!!

Palutena: (In the Spectator Seats with Bayonetta) Better than looking like a lazy slob!~

Bowser: DON'T EVEN START OVER THERE, WOMAN!

Peach: (Sees Bowser Now Arguing With the Goddess and Witch From the Back) I dunno, dear.(Turns to Matio) You really think he'll go through anything we ask him to?

Mario: (Turns to Peach) It's possible. He has surprised us a good amount of times in the past. (Grimaces at the Thought of Bowser's Countless Antics in the Past) Besides, I REALLY don't wanna go back to dealing with his events anymore. Just thinking about give me nightmares.....

Peach: Yeah, I-(Eyes Suddenly Begins to Widened While Gasping at Mario) You had nightmares!? When!?

Mario: (Nervously Rubs the Back of his Head) Uhh.....Just recently.....Albeit a week or so. (Quickly Puts his Hands Out in Front of Him in Defense) B-But I swear, it wasn't that big of deal! And it's definitely not anything for you to worry about eithe-

Peach: Too late!~ (Pulls Mario into a Tight, Loving Hug) You got me worried sick right now!~

Mario: (Sighs in Defeat as He Lays the Side of his Head onto his Princess' Chest) I know. I promise I'll tell you more about it after this trial is over.

Peach: (Starts Pouting a Bit) ('Hmph') You better. Or I'm gonna keep smothering you and kiss you all over your dumb, cute face!~ (Starts Kissing Mario's Cheek)

Mario: (Chuckles Ticklishly by Peach's Kisses) You're going to do that no matter what I do regardless!~ (Smirks a Bit) And I won't mind that one bit~

Peach: I know you won't. It's the only that makes you feel better. (Smirks Back at her Teddy Bear) And I am more than happy to provide~ (Gives Mario One Last Kiss on the Lips) Now, come. Let's get this put whole thing to rest already.

Mario: (Simply Nodded in Agreement) Let's. (Picks the Gravel Up From the Desk Before Beating it Down On the Sound Block)

'BANG' 'BANG' 'BANG'

Mario: Order! Order in the court!

Mario looks around to see Bowser, who is now being hold back by both Ludwig and Kumatora, still arguing with the witch and goddess and everyone else in the room talking among themselves, completely unaware of the attention he tried to give him.

Mario: Uhh. Guys?-

Peach: QUIIIIEEEEEEEEEET!

The loud, booming voice of an angry princess was more than enough to stop everyone from what they were doing, shut 'em up, and give her and Mario their much needed attention.

Mario: (A Bit Startled by his Princess' Scream) Mama Mi- ('Clears Throat') (Smiles a Bit Sheepishly at Peach) T-Thank you, dear.

Peach: (Gives Mario the Sweetest Smile She Can Muster)

Mario: (Turns Back to Everyone) Now, after giving it a lot of consideration, Peach and I decided to give you another shot.

Bowser: Ah come on! I JUST- Wait. You serious? (Eyes Starts Widen at the Consideration in Question) I-I'm not banned anymore?

Mario: (Happily Nodded) Yep. You're back on the invite list.

Bowser: I'm back on the list. I'm back on the-(Starts Smiling Brightly) Kids, we did it! I'm back on this list!! (Pumps his Fists Up on the Air) WO-

Peach: HAAANG ON JUST A SECOND, MISTER!

Bowser immediately stops cheering in rejoice, right on cue.

Bowser: Y-Yes?

Peach: Before you start going around celebrating, we have a few conditions for you we need to discuss.

Mario: Starting with the chores you promised to do.

Peach: No maid dress needed.

Bowser: (Pumps his Fists and Elbows Up and Down) Yes! (Turns Back to Bayonetta and Palutena with a Snarky Smirk) Suck it!

Bayonetta snaps her finger in disappointment while Palutena sighs and rolls her eyes in annoyance..

Bowser: (Turns Back to Judges With a Huge Smile on his Facs) I'll have those chores done right before know it.

Peach: (Smiles Back) That's great!~ And we'll have Bayo and Paulie monitoring you the whole way through.

Bowser: (Chuckles Lightly) Yeah, I- (Eyes Widened Up Once Again) Wait, what?

Bayonetta: (Starts Smirking at Bowser Along with her Goddess Next to Her) You heard the lady judge, dear~ We'll keep watch of you fulfilling your chore-ly duties and make VERY good sure you have everything nice and spotless.

Palutena: (Starts Snapping her Finger Around to Every Word That Comes Out Of her Mouth) ('Snap') Suck. ('Snap') On. ('Snap') That.

The couple starts a small, smug filled high five woth one another, pissing Bowser off effortlessly.

Bowser: ('Growls') Motherfu- (Balled and Squeezes his Fist Up Tight Before Slowly Turning his Growl into Deep Breath) Alright, fine. I'll accept these terms.

Peach: Good. Now, second, you have to swear in this courtroom that you won't do anything scheming behind the scenes.

Mario: if we catch or any one of your crew doing anything diabolical, you're off the list for good, got it?

Bowser: (Place One Hand on the Book Hat Kid is Holding Up For Him While Holding Up Another Right Beside Him his Face) I, Bowser S. Koopa, solemnly swear not to cause any trouble from in and out the scenes amd behave myself like the adult I am.

Ludwig: (Gives Bowser a Proud Smile) Very mature of you, father.

Mario: (Nodded in Approval) Good, good. Very good indeed. Now, for the final condition.....

Bowser: (Puts on a More Confident Grin on his Face) Lay it on me, judge. I'll definitely get that one in the bag too!

Mario: I sure hope, cause the last and final thing you have to do is not to hit on Peach for at least three months.

Bowser: You can count on- (Eyes Widens Up Yet Again) I beg your pardon?

Peach: You heard my man! You need to stop hitting on me for three whole months, right up until the day the Jamboree Party starts. (Raises an Eyebrow at Bowser) Surely you can handle that just fine, right?

Ludwig: (Simply Nodded) No need to worry, your honor. We are more than certain that our client is up for the task.

Bowser is at a lost for thought before Ludwig kick in the chins again immediately taking him back to reality.

Bowser: Ah! Uh- Huh? What?

Kumatora: (Raises an Eyebrow at Bowser) Mr. B, do you have what it takes to make it through three months without trying to hit on the princess?

Bowser: ('Scoffs') Y-Yeah! (Crosses his Arms Together While Huffing and Puffing) Of course I can!......But...uh....

Ludwig: (Sighs While Pinching the Bridge of his Nose) Oh my God, what now?

Bowser: Hey, n-not that I'm complaining or thing, but......Does it HAVE to be three months? (Slowly Shrugs in an Awkward Fashion) Couldn't it last for two or.....one in a half months instea-

Crowd: ('Groans Loudly')

Kumatora: (Glares at Bowser) Dude!

Ludwig: Dear lord...............

Kamek: ('Sigh') That child of mine.........

Palutena: He's doomed......

Hat Kid: (Shakes her Head at Bowser With a Disapproving Look on her Face) Mm-mm.

Bowser: What? I was just wondering is all!....If it's a teensy bit possi-

Peach: (Angrily Slams her Palms on the Desk) ('SLAM') NO! We are NOT shortening this up for you, Bowser! You have only three months and that's absolutely, positively FINAL!

Mario: Anything else you want to dare add?

Bowser: (Shaking in his Knees, Scared Shitless) .....No.

Ludwig,: ('Sigh') Can't believe I'm doing this, but I will make sure my father....client or what have you, make it through that task till the third month rolls by.

Peach: (Frowns a Bit at Ludwig) That's very sweet of you, Luddy, but you don't have to help fight your father's battles for him.

Ludwig: I know, but I can tell that he adores and misses going to one of your annual parties. (Shrugs) It's a decent enough reason for me to make sure he succeeds. And also because I love him.

Crowd: Awwwww~

Bowser: (Heart Begins to Melt as He Pulls Ludwig into a Loving Hug) I love you too, son~ Thank you~

Ludwig: ('Sigh') Yes, yes. It's no problem at all. Just don't screw this up.

Bowser: Have more faith in me than that, kid. Your old man got this!

Ludwig: We'll see.

Kumatora: I'll help you out too, Mr. K!

Bowser: (Turns to Kuma With a Genuine Surprise Look om his Face) You will?

Ludwig: Kuma, are you sure?

Kumatora: (Happily Nodded) Yeah, man. (Hugs her Boyfriend) No way I'm gonna let my sweetheart of a boyfriend do this alone. (Turns Back to Bowser) We'll make sure you won't botch this one up, sir. (Slowly Starts to Crack Both of her Knuckles One by One While Giving Bowser The Most Intimidating Looking Smile She Could Muster) By any means.....('Crack') Necessary.

Bowser: ('Gulp') (Turns Back to Ludwig, Whispering to Him in Even More Fear) Your girlfriend is terrifying......

Ludwig: She is a highly trained PsI-User. Fear comes to the territory in some areas. She fought an actual tiger once growing up.

Bowser: With her or bare hands?

Ludwig: Yes.

Biwser: Oh.....(Takes a Very Deep Breath) Well, crippling fear aside.....(Gently Pats The Top of Ludwig's Shoulder) She's a real keeper, son.

Ludwig: (Forms a Proud Smirk on his Face) Indeed she is.

Peach: Alright, pardon my rudeness, is there anything else we need to discuss here?

Everyone in the Spectator's seat whispers among themselves for a few seconds before turning back to judges and one of them screams out.....

Palutena: Nope! We're good!

Peach: (Smiles Brightly) Good! I have a teddy bear sitting next to me right now, that needs to be loved and taken care of by yours truly~

Crowd: ('Chuckles Lightly')

Mario: (Pouts at Peach While Making Cute Angry Sounding Noises)

Peach: (Turns to Mario) Oh don't gimme that look! Everyone knows I call you that at this point. No use in hiding. Anyways, Case Dismissed!! (Picks the Gravel Up From the Desk Before Beating it Down On the Sound Block)

'Bang'

@bestpony666

@caleb13frede

@ma-lemons

@decibelcoatl

[hoe4hotchner]

please i beg to do a second part of “Langston and Bell” where aaron comes home to jack and reader wife and any other kids they have (up to you)

Court adjourned | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x lawyer fem!reader | WC: 0.9k | CW: law words, fluff

A/N: Canon events did not happen in the correct order in this.

Part 1 here

The familiar click of the front door unlocking signaled Aaron's arrival home. He exhaled a long breath, leaving the weight of the day at the door—it was a ritual you'd implemented when you both did law, a signal that work would be work and home would be home. It eased him slightly as he stepped into the comfort of your home, the cases never left him, but somehow this made them a little less loud in the back of his head. He slung his suit jacket over one arm and loosened his tie but still kept it in place around his neck.

The scent of something delicious wafted from the kitchen, and Aaron couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. A hum of conversation, punctuated by the occasional laughter, floated through the house and into his ears.

“Jack, that’s not how you establish standing,” your voice rang out, it was light and teasing but tinged with mock seriousness—to any passerby, the mini court session would've seemed harsh, but to you, it was everything, and nothing. It had been a way for you to connect with Jack when you'd first met Aaron, and yet, it was the most normal thing in your day-to-day life. “You can’t just argue jurisdiction when you’re clearly in breach.”

Aaron placed his briefcase down near the entryway and followed the sound of your voice to the dining room. The scene that greeted him was enough to make his heart ache with love.

You were sitting at the table, papers spread out before you like a courtroom exhibit. Jack sat beside you, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked on what appeared to be a legal-themed word puzzle. Across the room, your youngest son—Charlie—was seated on the floor with a pile of blocks and trucks, chattering away to his stuffed giraffe next to him.

Jack looked up first, his face lighting up with excitement. “Dad!”

“Hey, buddy,” Aaron greeted, kneeling just in time to catch Jack in his arms. He hugged him tightly, any stress left from the day melting further under the boy’s familiar embrace.

You looked up from the table, a soft smile gracing your face as you watched them. “There’s my favorite litigator,” you said, your tone playfully affectionate.

“Litigator, huh?” Aaron replied, his voice full of amusement as a smile spread across his lips. “What case am I arguing tonight?”

“Jack’s appeal for an extra hour of screen time,” you said with a sigh, gesturing to the puzzle in front of you. “But he’s losing points for trying to submit inadmissible evidence.”

Jack pulled back from the hug to protest. “Nuh-uh, (Y/N)'s being unfair! She said I couldn’t use my grades as evidence, but they totally prove I deserve it!”

Aaron chuckled, ruffling his son’s hair. “Sorry, buddy. She's a stickler for rules, she won't even ease the rules for me. You should’ve led with precedent instead.”

You laughed, placing your pen down as you leaned back in your chair. “Don’t encourage him. He’ll be quoting case law by bedtime.”

Charlie toddled over then, his little arms stretched wide. “Daddy!”

Aaron scooped him up with ease, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Hey, Charlie. Did you give your mommy a hard time at pickup today?”

“Nope,” Charlie said, grinning up at him. “I was good!”

“That’s debatable,” you interjected, though your smile betrayed your joy. “He tried to object when I told him it was time to go home from kindergarten AND wash all the mud off.”

“It was sustained!” Charlie announced proudly, eliciting laughter from everyone in the room.

Aaron carried Charlie to you, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Hi, Counselor. How was your day?” He greeted, repeating the nickname he'd called you earlier in the day.

“Busy,” you admitted, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his face. “Depositions all morning, a meeting with the partners in the afternoon, and then a pro bono consultation that ran longer than expected. But I’m home now, and that’s all that matters.”

Aaron set Charlie down and took the seat beside you. “Did you get a chance to eat today?”

You arched an eyebrow at him. “Are you cross-examining me, Agent Hotchner?”

“Just establishing facts for the record,” he replied smoothly.

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “Yes, Your Honor, I ate lunch. Though it was more of a plea bargain with a vending machine than an actual meal.”

Aaron frowned, his brow furrowing. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

“I’ll allow that objection,” you said softly, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “But only if you promise to take your own advice.”

Jack’s voice interrupted, full of exasperated affection. “You guys are being all lawyer-y again.”

You and Aaron exchanged a look, both of you breaking into laughter.

“All right,” you said, standing and stretching. “Dinner’s ready. Why don’t you set the table, Jack? Charlie can help me grab the food.”

Jack groaned but complied, while Charlie eagerly toddled after you. Aaron stayed in his seat for a moment, watching the three of you move around the kitchen with ease.

It wasn’t the courtroom drama or high-stakes cases that made him feel alive—it was this. The moments at home, the playful banter that somehow always ended in legal terms, and the love you all shared although your family was a little blended.

When you returned to the table, carrying a steaming pot while Charlie followed right behind with a bowl of mixed leafy greens.

Aaron stood to help you.

“You know,” he said quietly, his voice meant just for you, “I think we make a pretty good team.”

You looked up at him, your smile was soft. “The best team.”

[reignpage]

Basketball captain!Toji

Atlanta Hawks: catharsis

warning: 18+ mdni, blowjob, face fucking, spanking, teasing, dirty talk, nipple pinching, passing out, unprotected sex, not proofread

basketball captain!toji has you at your wits’ end. it’s been three weeks since he last fucked you and you couldn’t possibly take more. you’re losing sleep, you’ve got huge circles under your eyes and hearing your friends talk about their recent sexcapades has you twitching like a madwoman. 

so you decide enough is enough. 

especially because playoffs are tomorrow and if you don’t do something about this drought he’s forced upon you now, you fear you’ll actually die of dehydration before the team gets to the court. 

basketball captain!toji is at home and his roommate is off terrorising children no doubt. now is the perfect time to strike. you’re going all out and pulling out the big guns. letting yourself into their apartment once more, you surveil the area. the tv’s running, playing one of the games in which they lost, and your boyfriend’s in the kitchen cooking dinner. 

tiptoeing like your life depends on it, you sneak up right behind him and tackle him into a bear hug (as close to one as you can considering his enormous size). he doesn’t even glance back at you. the bastard knew the entire time you’re here. 

“hey ma, hungry?”

running a hand up his shirtless back, you admire his muscles. all the training and gym sessions has made him even bigger and tougher-looking. god, his back muscles are ripping with every move and every breath, tensing and softening with your touch. 

“toji,” you whisper against his skin, “i miss you.”

he huffs a laugh and turns to wrap a heavy arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side with a kiss to your head. “’m right here, ma.”

basketball captain!toji is being uncharacteristically sweet. you hate it. he’s softening you up, distracting you with his boyish grin and teasing kisses to your hair. but you must stand your ground. you’ve got a game plan. 

with a warning bite to his bicep, you fall to the floor with grace and yank down his joggers with much less grace. your jaw drops. he’s hard, fully hard, the tip an angry red leaking so much pre you almost thought he came already. basketball captain!toji isn’t even wearing boxers. 

that bastard. 

you look up at his face, feeling irritated by the rise of his brow, as if faking a look of shock. 

“you ain’t gonna buy me dinner first, baby?”

maybe it’s the shit-eating grin basketball captain!toji has or maybe it’s the mocking tone of his voice, but whatever it is, it has you gripping the base of his throbbing cock with much more force than he expects. he stiffens. 

you don’t waste time; you open wide and take as much of him as you can. he tastes slightly salty and musky, like hard work and late nights. it’s been too long and your jaw has gotten too comfortable in the interval. you wince at the stretch and feel a prick of fear at how your pussy’s gonna fare when he’s plowing between your legs without mercy. 

god, you’re soaked at just the thought of it. 

basketball captain!toji fists your hair and thrusts into the back of your throat without warning, feeling empowered by your gargles. he doesn’t have rhythm, he’s just thrusting as he please, and you know you have him. 

motherfucker wants this more than you do. 

“ha, this what you wanted for dinner?”

you roll your eyes at the same time as you roll your tongue over his slit, rejoicing in the hiss you pull out of him. he narrows his eyes at you and pulls you off, lifting your head up slightly by the makeshift ponytail he’s made.

“don’t sass me, ma. i was gonna fuck you nice and slow but you changed my mind.”

both of you know damn well he’s lying through his teeth but before you can voice that, he’s spinning you around and pinning your face to the cold marble surface. he’s lifted your skirt up, flicking it over and he pauses at the sight that beholds him. 

you’re wearing a thong with his name on it.

smiling, you shake your hips like a temptress, egging him on, daring him to say and do something.

basketball captain!toji is palming your ass, his thumb rubbing the flimsy string between your cheeks. you can’t see what face he’s making but that just makes you wetter. 

is he impressed? is he mad? or both? neither?

you yelp. he’s slapped your ass and the sting is gonna leave a mark. 

“you got this for me, ma? ha, you missed me that much?”

the pulsing between your legs, the wetness running down your thighs, his monstrous grip groping and pinching all over, it was making you delirious. you laugh, a cackle that escapes you and doesn’t register in your head. 

then he’s pushing aside your thong and sheathing himself in one thrust. you both moan. oh, it’s so good. the burn’s making you drool, the way his head’s rubbing against that spongy part inside of you again and again and again. it’s all too much. 

basketball captain!toji has one hand holding your hips and dragging you back and forth on his unbelievable length whilst the other is holding your tit captive. he’s twisting your nipple and sucking your neck, leaving a wet trail of apologies to your ear. 

“ha, was mean, wasn’t i? sorry baby, shit!”

you aren’t even listening, too focused on that pleasurable ache between your legs as he pummels your poor pussy like you’re just a wet hole. twisting your neck, you meet his lips in a clash of tongue and teeth. it’s messy and chaotic but it makes you clench down on him. 

“fuck!” he spanks your ass, eliciting a whine from you. “gonna -ngh- milk me too early, ma.”

basketball captain!toji speeds up his thrusts, rubbing your clit with a ferocity that steals your breath, all while hitting that same spot inside of your wet tunnel.  over and over again. 

you have no idea how long it’s been, maybe thirty minutes, three hours or mere seconds. time escapes you, so caught up in what you’ve been chasing for weeks, you don’t want to miss a single second on this rapture. 

you’re climbing higher and higher, voice pitching and moans so broken you probably sound demonic. his hands are so big, pressing warmth into your skin whilst his sweaty skin blankets your back, the weight so reassuring, so heavenly you hope he never leaves. 

“right there, yes! pleasepleasepleaseplease!” 

the tsunami of euphoria that washes over you, erasing all of your frustrations and grievances against the man, makes you black out. for a solid minute you lose your bearings, grappling for a tether as your legs shake. he’s still fucking you through it, groaning in your ear from the repeated clenches you’re making on his cock. 

“glad you’re here ma, wanted to empty my — shiiiiiit — balls before the game. such a good girl, helping me out.”

when you come to, it takes you a second to realise he hasn’t cum yet, just making shallow thrusts whilst he…

basketball captain!toji is eating his dinner whilst still inside of you, ignoring the way you’re genuinely spasming, tongue-tied from the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had, courtesy of his three weeks long tortuous experiment. 

basketball captain!toji notices your disbelieving glare and flashes you a wolfish grin, his scar stretching in an annoyingly delectable way. 

“want some?”

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Couldddd you please write something with hiromi?? I'd appreciate itttt so muchh :)

At Law

Tags: Hiromi Higuruma x fem!Reader, modern!au, nsfw, mdni, academic rivals, enemies to lovers, hate fucking, unhinged!hiromi, depictions of violence including murder

Synopsis: Being the state’s district attorney was your dream job. After years of law school and hard work, you were finally appointed the job and allowed to represent the state in court. You singlehandedly decided which cases to prosecute and who to bring to justice. When your old academic rival, Hiromi, shows up as a defense attorney in court one evening, you know he’s going to give you a hard trial… and a hard fuck.

An: Anything for you nepobaby :)) Hope you enjoy this. I swear I'm going to make these shorter every time, but then, I start writing and literally can't stop.

You two have been chasing each other for the longest time.

It started in law school. You don't exactly remember how it happened, but slowly over time, you and Hiromi began playing your little academic race.

Both of you were brilliant, quick, and determined. Honestly, you two were like a professor's dream to have.

You found yourself studying longer, committing to all-nighters just to read over several codes of law and past cases in the court. All of it just to score a little bit higher than him on a test.

But dammit, he was faster than you when answering questions the professor proposes. His photographic memory serves him well as he's able to distinctly remember what code a law comes from and where the code is at in the Code of Federal Regulations.

Don't even get me started on how mock trials went. The professor would actually have to stop pairing you two against each other because it would become so toxic and brutal between the two.

As law school progressed, the workload just got worse. The school expected you to complete assignments, study for the bar, and take on unpaid internships. You were a slave for your degree.

Hiromi wasn't immune to those types of pressures either, and as much as he hated to admit it, study partners help retain information better. It would help effectively consume the source material in half the time. Unfortunately, the rest of his peers were just so beneath him...

Well, besides you.

All-nighters weren't lonely anymore. You and Hiromi would drink enough caffeine to kill an elephant and go through weeks worth of content in a night.

"You know... the release of endorphins can help concentration and reduce stress, thus helping students study." Hiromi said one early morning.

It was around four a.m, and you two were covering the petty crimes section. To say it was incredibly boring was an understatement. Students like you and Hiromi would never represent or prosecute clients in petty crimes. You two were destined for so much more.

"What are you suggesting, Hiro?" You ask before a small yawn escapes your mouth. You hadn't even looked up from your book.

"I'm suggesting that we help each other by taking a quick break." He responds as he shoves the book away from your lap. Your surprised eyes look up at his tired ones, and he cups your cheeks before he leans down to kiss you.

You would walk into class sore the next day. As soon as the adrenaline from one round wore off, you two were gunning for the next.

Your study sessions continued on and so did your competitiveness.

When you scored one point higher than him on the bar, he hate fucked you until morning.

Then, he made it his mission to surpass you everywhere else too. Recruiters and attorneys personally from different law firms were ringing Hiromi's phone constantly.

You genuinely believed that he would take the calls on speakerphone just to fucking spite you. You could hear the lawyers on the phone praise him so highly, practically begging for him to come practice at their firm.

Of course, you were getting some recruitment opportunities too, but it was still somehow harder for women to find jobs in the criminal justice field than it was for men. You also hadn't been selling yourself to these firms as much as he was because you had your mind set on working for the state. You wanted to be a prosecutor for the district attorney.

The icing on the cake was when you two were having one of your "study breaks" (aka Hiromi had you bent over your bed, and he was delivering the deepest, most toe curling backshots known to man), and he took a phone call from the district attorney's office.

His hand covered your mouth as he continued to thrust roughly into you while the man on the phone offered Hiromi a job.

"Hm? Oh, thank you for the opportunity." He graciously spoke over the phone as he was absolutely bullying your insides. Your stomach coiled from anger and arousal. You fucking hated him so much. "I'm weighing out all of my options now, but I'll have an answer for you by the end of the week, sir."

After more pleasantries, he hung up the phone and bent over to where he could whisper in your hear. "Hear that, little dove? I'm getting job opportunities from the state while you're under me getting ruined."

"You know, I'll probably be too busy from here on out to play this childish games with you." Thrust. "That'll be too bad, won't it?" Thrust. "Can't say I'll miss you though." Thrust. "Maybe this pretty cunt, but that'll probably be it." Thrust. "Better make this last one count, shouldn't we?" Thrust.

Oh, and he made good on his word. Your entire body ached after he made you finish for the nth time that evening. "I'll see you around, little dove." He whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek and leaving your dorm.

He made good on his word about that too. He never returned to your dorm. Sure, you two were graduating in two days, but some small part of you thought he'd might come over for a celebration.

No, he left you behind. He left you behind. You lost.

The anger burned hot for a few months as you gathered barrings after law school, especially when you'd see his name in the papers.

Defense Attorney Higuruma gets a non-guilty verdict for alleged drug trafficker!

Higuruma sways jury in closing argument, providing the most gut-wrenching speech!

Higuruma, Higuruma, Higuruma.

He was a fucking sensation in the criminal justice field, and his name left a sour taste in your mouth.

The anger only started to subside once you landed your dream job after a long internship. You were finally a prosecutor in a major circuit court in the crimes division.

Hiromi's name finally fled from your brain as you started to flood the newspapers.

Prosecutor helps put away notorious serial killer for life.

Cartel drug lord behind bars after district attorney helps deliver a guilty verdict for over 32 charges.

You finally felt like you hadn't been left behind. You were living the life you wanted to live ever since you were little. Did you imagine you'd be married by now? Yeah, sure. You just... hadn't met the right one yet.

Dating was hard while maintaining a professional career. You had to be extremely choosey for one. It would be scandalous to see a prosecutor dating someone with a criminal record.

And the men were sweet, don't get me wrong. They'd take you on nice dates, write you pitiful love letters, and treat you like a princess... They were all so collectively boring, especially in bed.

You'd tell them! You'd give them incredibly detailed instruction to be rough and mean to you, but they'd always laugh and make some excuse for not wanting to hurt you. Ugh.

Maybe you were ruined by Hiromi... because the only thing that got you off nowadays was the thought of him whispering hateful words into your ear while pounding himself into you with little concern or remorse.

Slowly, the gifts would start appearing.

A bouquet of white roses sitting on your desk. Do you miss me, LD?

You thought it was a simple mistake or a sick prank from one of the criminals you help lock away. You would quietly dispose of the gifts until the slowly became more alarming.

Miss your sweet sounds, LD. An audio recording of you moaning on a tape recorder played.

Who are you trying to look nice for, LD? None of those men could treat you like I did. Pictures of you going out on a date.

I'll take care of them for you. Don't worry your pretty little head, LD. A dead dove.

This was enough to get a harassment and stalking charge, but you didn't want to concern the local police. For one, you knew how lousy the police were when it came to crimes like this from working alongside them. They were honestly an embarrassment. For two, you didn't want this getting out to the public because then copy cats would start up.

You tried investigating on your own, but you came up to a dead end every time. The way this person called you LD made your head spin. That's not even your initials, but the gifts were certainly intended for you.

The only refuge for you was when you were in a court room. You felt safe and protected. A stalker of this degree wouldn't be ballsy enough to confront you in a courtroom while you're surrounded by police and bailiffs constantly.

Your refuge was short-lived by catching a glimpse of a familiar face in court one evening.

He looked as handsome as he did in law school. Hiromi's tired eyes met yours, and he almost immediately cracked a smile as he approached you during recess.

"Well look at you, dove." He smiled as he looked down at you. Hiromi's dark hair laid messily on the top of his head, and he was wearing a full business suit that framed his body nicely. "I see the district attorney's office settled for the second best option after I turned them down. Good for them."

He was still as arrogant and competitive as ever, making your heart flutter like it did back in law school. "Very funny, Hiro." You roll your eyes as you stand to look up at him.

"It's all harmless jokes. I promise. I'm proud of you, really." He assures as his eyes wander your body for just a moment.

You're not use to his praise. Normally, you're not the type to enjoy it, but hearing those words made you clench around nothing as your stomach swirled with butterflies.

"Thanks... I've heard good things about you as well.." You murmur quietly, suddenly losing all your nerve. "So, are you representing someone?"

"I am. I didn't just come here to watch you for fun. Though, I would've had I known you were such a big shot." He nudges your arm gently, causing you to laugh softly. "I'm representing a young man charged with murder. I'm sure you heard about it. Big news all over the television."

"Who was the victim?" You ask as you flip through your case files. If this was a first setting, surely you wouldn't go to trial today, but the thought of going to trial against Hiromi made your heart pound with excitement. Not many lawyers gave you too much trouble during court, but Hiromi... he would be a good match.

"They can't identify the victim. Male, John Doe, early twenties. That's all the information the cops have." He explains, and you start skimming through the case file quickly. It's astonishing that the police made an arrest when there was hardly a body to work from.

"Huh." You muse quietly as you look through the crime scene photos and pictures of the defendant's hands covered in soot from a fire. The victim had been burned.

"I'll be making a motion to dismiss this case based on a lack of substantial evidence linking my defendant to the body. Just a heads up." He then winks at you and walks away from your bar as the judge comes back and sits on the bench.

It seems as though you and Hiromi will have one last back and forth like old times.

When his case gets called before the judge, Hiromi takes the pleasure in speaking first. His client is handcuffed, sitting down next to him. The defendant was young, maybe nineteen. The evidence supporting his conviction was weak, but it was still there. Convincing a jury to convict him will be tough, and that's if the judge doesn't dismiss the charges outright.

After a long, drawn out argument between you and Hiromi about the proponderance of evidence, the judge decides to not dismiss the case.

"In that case, your honor, we would like to request a hearing today." Hiromi speaks with such confidence as he stands before the judge.

"Your honor, the state hasn't had adequate time to prepare for a hearing, and this is first setting. We'd like to request a reset date to prepare our defense." You immediately follow up as you also stand up.

"Your honor, my client has been incarcerated for over twenty-five days for a charge that has flimsy evidence at best. He has a right to a speedy trial." Hiromi rebuttals.

"Enough. We'll have a trial today whether the state is ready to proceed or not." The judge decides. Wonderful.

The trial is as painful as you imagined it to be. The evidence is flimsy, and Hiromi is practically bullying the witnesses on the stand, and when it's your turn for redirect, he practically bullies you with objection after objection.

"And what did the police-"

"Objection hearsay." Hiromi stands from his chair and eyes you with that cold stare of his.

"Your honor, I haven't even finished my question without the defense counsel butting in." You argue to the judge.

"Overruled. Counsel, let her finish." The judge warns.

Your head is practically throbbing by the end of it. The jury deliberates for two hours before coming back with the sentence. You tried your hardest and made good work with what evidence you had.

"On the charge of first-degree murder, we the jury find the defendant... not guilty."

Dammit. Hiromi won once again.

"On the charge of abuse of a corpse, we the jury find the defendant... guilty. On the charge of tampering with physical evidence, we the jury find the defendant... guilty. On the charge of arson, we the jury find the defendant... guilty."

He didn't win.

"On these charges, I will impose a sentence of twenty-five years in the Fuchu Prison with the possibility of parole after ten years." The judge sentences before whacking his gavel down.

You let out an exhausting sigh as you slowly gather your things after court adjourns. Today was likely the hardest day in your career, and you can't help but think about that young nineteen-year-old who won't see freedom until he's twenty-nine.

Hiromi approaches you after the courtroom is completely empty.

"You seem tired, dove." He muses as he loosens his tie from around his neck. He'd never admit it, but you absolutely gave him a run for his money.

"It's not everyday someone gives me that much trouble in court." You softly laugh as you look up at him. You feel your cheeks warm as you realize how close he is to you.

"Yeah? Did it bring back old memories?" He steps closer as his hand slowly reaches up to cup your cheek.

"Hm? Of me winning our mock trials?" You ask with a cheeky grin, and his grip tightens a bit.

"I distinctly remember our record being 15-13 with me having 15 wins." He replies as he leans down to you. He remembers the score you two kept from back in law school?

"You must be still sore about me outscoring you on the bar if you kept up with our scores from mock trials."

"Mmm, quite the contrary actually, you've always been my favorite opponent, even if you piss me off." He replies as he leans down towards you and presses his lips against yours.

The kiss was full of everything you could ever imagine: heat, lust, a hint of resentment towards each other. Before you know it, you're pressed against the table as Hiromi's hands roam your body like he's in a frenzy.

"Hiro.." You moan as he kisses down your neck roughly biting on your flesh. "My office.." You whine, trying to get him to ease up on you just long enough so you two could get out of the courtroom.

"And if I say no, little dove?" He whispers in your ear as his hand slips underneath your dress with such ease. "You'd let me take you right here, wouldn't you?"

"Hiro~" You whine in a breathy tone as his fingers trace around your clit like they did so long ago.

"That's not an answer, little dove." He demands as he applies more pressure. "I asked if you'd let me fuck you on this bar until you forgot your own name."

"Yes-!" You gasp as his fingers skillfully play with your most sensitive area.

"That's what i figured. You were always such a slut back then too. Somethings never change, hm?" He muses as he goes back to sucking and kissing on your neck. His fingers tease near your entrance, but they slowly trail back up to your clit.

"You're lucky I respect you enough." He growls lowly before he removes his hand. "Lead the way to your office."

As soon as you two are behind closed doors in your modest office, clothes are being thrown onto the floor, moans and small whispers of sweet nothings were exchanged. You could quite literally feel your heartbeat fluttering deep inside your cunt.

He gently nudges you to lay down on the leather couch you had in your office for the late nights you spent reviewing evidence. Your skin connects with the soft leather as he gets between your legs. "I wonder if you still taste the same, little dove."

His tongue gently laps at you, and he immediately hums with satisfaction. "Somehow sweeter, actually." He answers his own question as flattens his tongue and licks you from entrance to clit, savoring your fluids of arousal on his tongue.

Your hands find his hair, and you gently tug on it as he helps himself to your wetness. He takes his time, lapping at you slowly while gently suckling on the small bundle of nerves. Sometimes you swear he's spelling his name into your cunt with his tongue before he shoves his tongue directly inside you, drinking your nectar straight from the source.

"H-hiro~!" You whimper as you try to shuffle your hips away. The stimulation was too much to handle.

"Don't try to run from me, little dove." He grunts as he wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you right back down onto his mouth.

His nose bumps into your clit as you subconsciously ride his face, searching for release. "Yeeahh, there we gooo. There's my little dove.. bein' such a slut." He coos as he buries his face deeper into your core.

His entire face is damp from your delicious juices. He's such a messy eater, getting it all over his chin and nose. His tired eyes flutter up to look at you as you're on the crux of your orgasm.

"Cum on my face, little dove. Let me have you." He instructs before lapping at your cunt like a starved man.

Your voice goes high pitched and breathy as you grab onto his hair tightly, forcing him in even more before you finish all over his mouth. He gratefully continues to run his tongue along your folds until your legs are trembling on his shoulders.

You softly pant as you relax into the couch. You hadn't had an orgasm like that in so long. You had almost forgotten how they feel.

Hiromi looks up at you with a confident smirk and an intoxicated gaze. "Seems like you missed me, little dove."

"Please, I only missed when you're too preoccupied to run your mouth." You retort with a grin.

"Is that so?" He questions as he pulls down his boxers, and his length springs up from the constraints of the fabric. You tug your bottom lip between your teeth as you're reminded of how big he is.

As if on muscle memory, you turn to get in doggy position because that was his and your position of choice back in college, but he grabs your thighs and prevents you from moving.

"Nuh uh. You're gonna look at me when I take you this time." He grins as he positions himself between your thighs. He fists his length a few times before slowly dragging his fat tip up and down your sopping wet folds, savoring the feeling with a small groan. "I wanna see the tears in your pretty eyes, little dove."

You're about to argue and protest about the tears part, but he's quick to shut you up by forcing his length into you all at once. Hiromi's not only long, but he's very girthy, stretching you so deliciously. White hot pain courses through you as your nails dig into the couch.

"Ah-! F-fuck!" You curse as you try to get use to his size.

"Mmm~ you're tight, dove. How long has it been for you, hm? Surely you've fucked someone since college, unless you've been hopelessly waiting for me." He grins as his hips are slow. He allows you the space to almost get use to him before he shoves into you aggressively, making you see stars.

"Ngh... p-probably like.. uh.. oh god, six months?" You answer as you stutter over your words. Your last hookup had ghosted you after you slept with him. Though, it didn't really bother you. He wasn't good in bed at all, and he called you crazy for asking him to be mean to you during the deed.

Hiromi simply smirks down at you, proud of himself for how fast he can make you a mess underneath him.

"Oh, you poor thing... hah.. No one can take care of this pussy like I can, hm?" He taunts as his hands grab ahold of your hips. His eyes are fixated on where you two are connects. He loves watching his length sink inside you.

Your warm wet entrance only serves to suck him in further, causing him to groan and continue his deep, ruthless pacing.

"N-no..." You're not even able to deny it to him and play hard to get. No one comes close to making you feel as good as he does.

His hips snap forward harshly, fucking you deeper into the black leather of the couch beneath you. Your entire body jolts with each rough thrust.

"Only I'm good for you, isn't that right little dove? You're mine, aren't you?" He asks as his hand reaches up and wraps around your throat, gently applying pressure. His eyes are now staring deeply into yours, waiting for an answer.

"Fuck, Hiro.." You whine, unable to commit to saying you're his. He applies a bit more pressure with his thumb and fingertips.

"I asked you a question." He grits as he slams back into you at a dizzying rate. "Are you mine?"

"Oh~ fuck.. I-" You can barely get a word out as he's ruthlessly abusing your little cunt. This was the roughness you had begged all those other guys for. "Yes-! God, fuck, yes." You cry as you feel your stomach clenching with the burning passion of another orgasm.

"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret because you're mine now, dove." He mumbles lowly as he leans closer towards you. His hips keep up with his rhythm as his face is close to your ear. "That guy you sent to prison today was innocent of all counts."

Your hands reach up and hold onto his back muscles as he's rutting deep inside of you, reaching new places with his new position.

"What-? Hiro... I don't.."

"You sent an innocent man to prison, little dove. Doesn't that bother you? You're sick just like me." He continues on, making you feel all confused.

"How... ah~ how do you know he's innocent?" You ask as your eyebrows furrow. Your hands search his back, and your legs wrap around him as if you're hugging him.

"Because I did it." He growls into your ear. "That pathetic excuse for a man wasn't good enough for you, LD."

Chills immediately shoot through your body from him calling you by those damn initials. LD. You cling to him for a moment, unsure of what to even feel or say. His hips continue to rut inside of you.

"What's the matter, little dove?"

LD. Little dove. You squeeze your eyes shut as you finally piece everything together. Your last hookup didn't disappear. Your stalker, Hiromi, took care of him just like he promised he would.

For some sick reason, your stomach continues to clench as he's rocking back and forth. Your eyes meet his.

"Hiro... that's so.." You can't get the words out before you're finishing all over his cock with a high-pitched squeal.

Hiromi grins wildly as he watches you come undone from your orgasm. "My little dove is just as sick as I am, isn't she?" He coos before he leans back up.

His hips starts to drill into you mercilessly, not giving you a chance to catch your breath or even think. "Oh, fuck!" He curses as he's chasing his high deep inside you. “Mmnph~ gonna cum inside you and really make you mine.” He coos as his hips start moving sloppily.

You know it’s so wrong and taboo, but you couldn’t help but feel your arousal start building again. He just confessed to you about a serious crime, yet your pussy was still soaked, making the most delicious plap! plap! plap! noises as he pounded into you.

“Fuuuuck~” He groans as you feel his thick length twitching inside of you as he spills deep into your womb.

For a moment, you’re completely speechless. Hiromi softly pants as he presses small kisses into your collarbones. “‘m sorry. I had to do it, dove. I couldn’t let him get close to you.” He murmurs quietly. “Only I get to hear your sweet sounds. No one knows you better than me.”

Taking a deep breath, you realize that if this ever gets brought to light, you and Hiromi are going down for life. You gently nuzzle your face into his neck. “Hiro, you’re insane.”

“I know that, I do.” His voice is so sweet, cooing to you. “But we can get away with it, even if we’re miraculously caught.” He presses a sweet kiss to your temple.

Well, a year later, and the two renowned lawyers are married. At least you didn’t marry someone with a criminal record ;)

[thegirlamongthestars]

what would you do? - c. alcaraz

author's note: it is not my first time writing smut but it's been a long time since I've done it. So sorry for any mistakes or bad wording.

summary: Carlos faces his female nemesis, who happens to be a WTA player, in a brutally honest and steamy training session

wc: 2,7k

warnings: +18 content, smut, fingering, protected sex (play safe! put it on!), riding, filthy as fuck

Roland Garros 2023

It all began with a seemingly routine press conference, and honestly, I thought nothing of it. I was still riding the high from my last match, feeling confident and ready. Adriana was next up, and I’d heard she was having a stellar tournament so far. So when she walked into the room, I was just another player waiting for my turn at the podium.

The press conference kicked off, and the questions were flying fast. Adriana started speaking about her training regimen, the hard work she’d put in. Then, I remember that time we shared space at the gym for a strength routine. I couldn’t keep my thoughts out about how she looked that day. Her concentration making her look exquisite and the way the sweat was shining on every inch of her soft-looking skin. Due to the memories and quite out of nowhere, I made a strange noise—like a half-chuckle, half-clearing-my-throat kind of sound. It wasn’t intentional but it came out as a reaction to my memories of her and as an attempt to calm myself. The image had been stuck in my mind, and I guess it just slipped out.

But what I hadn’t realized was how it came across. Adriana’s head snapped toward me, her eyes flashing with irritation. The room went quiet, all eyes on us. I felt the heat rise in my face. I hadn’t meant to insult her, not in the slightest. It was just a stupid, misplaced reaction.

The media seized on it, turning it into a headline: Carlos Alcaraz mocks Adriana’s training. Suddenly, a harmless moment was spun into a full-blown feud. Adriana began avoiding me, keeping her distance, and every interaction felt charged with tension. What had been a simple comment turned into something far more complicated, and no matter how many times I tried to smooth things over, it only seemed to make matters worse.

I couldn’t figure out why it bothered me so much. It wasn’t just the rivalry—it was the fact that something so small had escalated into this ongoing, uncomfortable dynamic.

Roland Garros 2024

Here I was again, one year later. The grounds were buzzing with the usual excitement. My game was sharp, my confidence high, but today felt about more than just a practice. When I saw Adriana around the venue, I quickly made up my mind about confronting her. We really needed to sort out the ridiculous misunderstanding that led us to this “enemies” dynamic. I hated having that type of reaction on her. I really hated it, well except when she pierced me with those fierce green eyes. At those times, I couldn’t help but feel like a teenager with crazy hormones.

I arrived at the court for the private training session, and she was already there. Doing some rallies with her coach. Her hair, surprisingly, was down displaying her light brown strands. It looked so soft it made want to grab it.

Five seconds on her presence and I was already this worked up, I really needed to start focusing.

I called my team over, keeping my voice low so she wouldn’t hear. “You guys head out. I’ve got this.”

They looked at me, confused, but didn’t argue. They knew better. One by one, they packed up and left, leaving me alone on the court. I watched her as they disappeared, and just like I expected, she glanced over.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew exactly what was happening.

To my surprise, she didn’t hesitate. With a quick head movement to her own team, she motioned for them to leave as well. They looked just as confused as mine had, but they didn’t ask questions. When they were gone, it was just the two of us.

The tension and the heat travelling through my body was immediate.

She picked up her racket, gave me a smirk, and walked to the baseline of my court. “So, what’s this about, Carlitos? Are you here to teach how to train properly?”

Her tone was playful, but I could feel the heat behind it. We weren’t kids anymore. Whatever had been brewing between us back then? It wasn’t going away. If anything, it was stronger now. More dangerous.

I shrugged, coming with an answer to match her question. “I’m sure I could teach you a few things”

The court suddenly felt much larger with just the two of us. The quiet settled around us, and I could feel my pulse pick up. It was like the air between us shifted. Heavier.

We kept rallying, the sound of the ball filling the silence, but it was different now. Every glance, every movement, had weight to it. I could see the way her breath quickened after each shot, the way she’d pause just a second longer before serving, as if she was aware of me watching her every move.

And damn it, I was.

Her ball, that I could have easily returned, turned into a point on her favor. She noticed that I was distracted and by the look she gave me, I knew she knew my reasons.

She stepped closer to the net after her shot, and I did the same, barely noticing how the ball stopped bouncing, the match forgotten. We were both breathing heavier now, but it wasn’t from the workout. I could feel her presence, feel the heat rolling off her, and suddenly, I wasn’t thinking about tennis at all.

“Distracted?” she put her hands on the hem of the net, getting closer to me and leaving her cleavage straight to my eyesight.

I was trying very hard to control the impulse of throwing myself all over her so I just shared the truth “Pretty much”.

“What if we play a game?” the mischief in her eyes sent a shiver down my spine.

This girl was dangerous. But this was the danger I liked. So if she was going to be shameless, then this was a game for two. I nodded and she began to explain.

“We are going to start a rally and at every point you win, you get to ask me a question; and vice versa”

“Okay, nic-“ she cut me off.

“But if you don’t want to answer to the question you have to take off a piece of clothing” her gaze expectant to my reaction. “Not the shoes, though. I don’t want you to break and ankle”

I started walking backwards, with my arms spreading, inciting her. “Bring it on, Adriana”

The first serve flew across the net, sharp and fast, landing just inside the baseline. Adriana’s return was quick and powerful. I sent a strong forehand cross-court, watching her sprint to catch it. She was good. Too good. But there was a flicker in her movements, the smallest hesitation when I moved up to the net, her eyes locking on mine for just a second too long. That was all I needed.

She missed the ball, and it sailed past her, bouncing off the back fence.

“One down,” I said, my voice low but teasing. “Do you really hate me?”

She laughed and lifted her t-shirt to dry her forehead, leaving her belly on display “No”

“Then why d-“ she left my words hanging again.

“Ah-ah, that’s not how it works Alcaraz” her head moving side to side cheekily. “Be brighter next time”

The next point was fast, both of us hitting with more force than necessary, trying to keep the upper hand. But this time, I lost focus, my mind more on her than on the game. She took advantage of it, hitting a perfect shot down the line that I couldn’t reach in time.

Her turn.

“Have you ever taken some of your personal time to watch a game of mine?”

She knew what she was doing. She already knew the physical effect she had in me and now she was trying to find out if I kept her on my mind.

She walked to the net, stopping just inches from me. “Well? What’s it going to be? Are you going to answer the question or…?”

I gave me her a slow, deliberate look, then—without a word—reached for the bottom of my shirt and tugged it over my head. My well-formed abdominals instantly showing and tan looking better under the sun rays. I saw how her breath caught for a second.

“That’s enough for you?” I asked, my voice smooth.

She swallowed, trying to keep her cool. “For now.”

I lost the next point, a backhand going wide.

I saw her leaving her racket on the bench and the way her hips swung while walking towards the net, had me hypnotized. She moved her finger on a “come here” motion and I did.

 “Are you brave enough to take off my t-shirt?”

This woman was going to be the end of me. At this point, I was not taking care of controlling my hormones and that was starting to note under my pants. I didn’t know how I would react the moment my fingers touched her skin, but my desire made me get closer to her immediately.

Her gaze was on mine all the time and at the moment I traced her waist with my fingertips, she bit her lower lip. I couldn’t help but release a lust filled pant. I raised the fabric until it was resting on top of her breasts, and I let my hands there for a moment, holding the sides of her rib cage. I looked down and it was undoubtedly the worst idea I’ve had in my life. Ironic, considering that I was having the greatest sight I’ve ever seen.

At that moment, something snapped in my head and all I could think was “fuck it”.

“What would you do if I kissed you right now?”

“That’s not fair” she put her hands at the nape of my hair, leaving us mere inches apart “It’s not your turn”

I could sense that she was saying that just to control herself so when I saw her licking her lips, I didn’t think about it twice. I leaned in; one arm on the net, the other enclosing her waist, pulling her even closer.

The moment our lips met, electricity shot through me, white-hot and consuming. Her lips were soft, but the kiss was anything but gentle. It was fierce, hungry—like we’d been holding this in for far too long.

Her hands found their way to my chest, nails scratching my pectorals. I couldn’t help but press my bulge to her hips and she left a moan on my mouth. I could feel her heat more than ever. The taste of her, the way her tongue moved against mine—it was intoxicating, better than I’d ever imagined.

And I had imagined it. More times than I cared to admit.

I needed more—more of her. The net between us was the only thing keeping us apart so with one swift motion, I gripped her firmly, lifting her off the ground without breaking the kiss.

Her body reacted immediately. She wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling herself tighter against me, her arms circling around my neck. At this position, she could feel me directly on her core so she didn’t wait much until she started grinding against me.

While we were still kissing, I started to walk us to one of the facilities built, for leaving our personal belongings, right next to the courts. During the way, Adriana moved her lips from my mouth to my neck and I almost tripped with my own feet. Her tongue followed her lips and she soon started giving small bites until she reached my ear lobe.

“You’re aggravating” she whispered looking into my eyes when we sat on the bench where I left my stuff.

“And why is that, honey?” now I was the one taking good care of her neck. I found a sweet spot of hers right under her chin and I had her moaning again.

“That day when you laughed at me” she was barely able to form sentences right now. “Y-you…”

“I didn’t laugh at you” my hand started trailing down her belly until it was placed on the hem of her skirt, my fingers surpassing the elastic but stopping there. “Do you wanna know what actually happened?”

“Y-yes but don’t stop”

Her neediness steered the fire within me even more and I complied her wishes. I kept my trail down, until I reached her wetness. I bit her jaw in response of knowing how much she desired me. With my fingers coated in her, I went up again and once I found her clit I started tortuously slow strokes over it.

“When you started talking about your gym routine all I could think about was how good your butt looked on those leggings you were wearing the time we trained together” I kept my ministrations, but I slowly entered her with two of my fingers turning her into a moaning mess. “About how badly I wanted to fuck you right there and then”

Her only response was arching her back leaving her breasts right at the height of my mouth. I started to give sloppy kisses and bites to the flesh that was sticking out the sport bra. The sounds she was making were sending me to another dimension and my dick was throbbing so hard that I was afraid she could feel it.

“I want you to fuck me here and now” she paraphrased my previous words.

I could feel my heart racing in my throat, my voice hoarse and needy “At your commands, reina”

With our lips and tongues having a full battle into a kiss, I reached my backpack. Right now, I was thanking that friend of mine that told me to always carry a condom on my wallet. When she saw what I had in hand she took it. Now she was the one slipping her hand through the waistband of his pants. When she palmed me over my underwear, I had to focus hardly on not cuming. She freed me and despite I was hard as a rock she gave me two strokes before putting on the condom.

“I knew you were big” she shamelessly said before licking my lower and upper lip. “Those white shorts are quite revealing”

I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I pushed the skirt and panties aside. She noticed I was on the edge, so she grabbed me and introduced it in herself. When she sat down completely, we both let out a satisfied grunt. Immediately, we reach for each other’s lips. There was something wild about the kiss we were having and we both felt it. The way we were sucking and biting each other's lips relentlessly and the way she was moving above me. Our skin rubbing together hard and the sound of us colliding making us both moan uncontrollably.

I then grabbed her tightly by the flesh of her hips, the movements double in speed and when my member reached the exact point inside her, I could see how her eyes rolling back. The pitiful sound out of her lips confirmed it to me and I started hitting the spot relentlessly. My stamina allowing me to increase the rhythm and depth even more, making us lose our minds.

“Touch yourself” I commanded her, and her dutifulness drove me dangerously near to the orgasm.

After a few more minutes of giving everything in us to please the other, we combusted into each other’s bodies trying to extend as much as possible the pleasure wave we were in. When our breathing pace slowed down, I grabbed her chin to make her look into my eyes and then we melted into a soft and delicate kiss.

“So, we can call it a truce?” I teased her when she snuggled up against my chest and I managed to get the sweetest laugh out of her lips.  

“Don't tempt fate, Carlitos”    

[diamonddaze01]

tarararara my love! for your drabble game i wanna do prompt no. 6 but with a twist-

Do you like me? Check yes or yes

the ball is in your court now bub!

do you like me?

pairing: wonwoo x reader, law school au | wc: 944 prompt: "Do you like me? check yes or yes" | warnings: none a/n: dedicated to both @svtiddiess and @tusswrites bc the greatest minds think alike

The library was quieter than usual, the usual hum of stressed-out law students replaced by the rhythmic scratching of pens and flipping of pages. You and Jeon Wonwoo had somehow claimed a table near the window—a rare truce in the ongoing cold war of your academic rivalry.

You weren’t entirely sure how it started. Maybe it was the time he answered a question in Contracts class before you could, perfectly articulating the rule of consideration in a way that had the professor beaming. Or maybe it was the time you aced your Civil Procedure exam, and he shot you that unreadable glance as he exited the lecture hall, his graded paper tucked discreetly under his arm. Somewhere along the line, though, it became a thing: Jeon Wonwoo vs. You.

You were loud, unabashed, and utterly relentless in debates. Wonwoo? Quiet, methodical, and terrifyingly sharp. It was as though the universe had handpicked you to be polar opposites, with one mutual goal: finishing top of the class.

It wasn’t just about ego—though you’d never admit how much satisfaction you felt when you won. For you, being at the top meant proving that your voice mattered, that you could command a room even in the cutthroat world of law. For him, you suspected it was different. Wonwoo worked with a quiet precision that seemed to come from something deeper, something you couldn’t quite place. He was impossible to read, and maybe that’s what frustrated you the most.

The rivalry only grew fiercer with time: whispered debates in the hallway after class, stolen glances at each other’s grades, the occasional sarcastic jab when you passed in the library. It had become a fixture of your law school experience.

So why were you here, sitting across from him in the library? That was another story.

It started two weeks ago, when the Professor of Legal Ethics—who clearly took pleasure in student suffering—had paired you two for a moot court assignment. The project was simple: argue a mock case against each other, with grades determined by individual performance.

You’d scoffed at the announcement. “Of course,” you muttered under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

He’d glanced at you, an amused glint in his eyes. “Don’t sound too excited.”

The idea of working with him—of watching him meticulously dismantle your arguments before you even had a chance to deliver them—should have been unbearable. But instead, you’d found yourself suggesting, “We should prep together. You know, scope out the competition.”

Wonwoo had hesitated, his lips twitching in what might have been amusement. “You’re offering to help me beat you?”

“Who said I’m helping you?” you’d shot back, grinning. “I just want to see if you’re as good as everyone says.”

Now here you were, begrudging study partners, buried under stacks of legal texts and sharing a tense but surprisingly comfortable silence. Except you couldn’t focus. Not because of the assignment—your case brief was flawless—but because of him.

Wonwoo, with his quiet determination, his maddening focus, and his infuriating ability to make your heart race with just a glance. You didn’t know when it started—when the rivalry began to feel less like competition and more like curiosity. When his sharp intelligence stopped annoying you and started fascinating you instead.

Maybe it was last week, when he had stayed late after your prep session, walking with you to the parking lot under the glow of the streetlights. The conversation had been light, easy—unexpectedly so. You’d caught him smiling, not his usual smirk but something softer, almost shy. It had lingered with you far longer than it should have.

Or maybe it was the other day, when you’d caught him lost in thought, glasses slipping down his nose as he scribbled something in the margins of his notebook. He had looked up at you then, catching you staring, and raised an eyebrow in question. You had blurted something incoherent about “legal precedents” before burying your face in your notes, your cheeks burning.

You were doomed.

Tonight wasn’t any better. He was scribbling furiously in his textbook, his pen tapping softly against the edge of the page. You should have been working on your counterarguments, but instead, you were folding a piece of notebook paper into an origami crane.

After a few moments, you slid the crane across the table to him. Wonwoo didn’t look up at first, too engrossed in his notes, but when the crane nudged his hand, he paused. His sharp eyes flicked to yours, and you gave him your best innocent smile.

He carefully unfolded the crane. Inside, in your bold handwriting, were the words: “Do you like me? Check yes or yes.” Below, you’d drawn two boxes, both labeled “yes,” along with a winking face for good measure.

Wonwoo blinked at the note, his expression unreadable. But then, his ears turned a shade of red so deep you could practically hear your heart screaming.

You stared, waiting, your pulse thundering in your ears. And then, to your surprise, he smirked.

Pulling out his pen, he checked one of the boxes. Then, with deliberate care, he tore off the bottom half of the paper, scribbled something, and slid it back to you.

You unfolded it, your chest tight with anticipation. Written in his small, neat handwriting was: “Can you quiet down now? I’m trying to focus.” Below it, he’d drawn a tiny, lopsided heart.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re impossible,” you murmured.

Wonwoo didn’t respond, but the pink flush creeping up his neck and the faint twitch of his lips told you everything you needed to know.

Somehow, the rivalry didn’t feel like a competition anymore.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[demeterdefence]

even ignoring everything else wrong with lore olympus (which in itself feels impossible) there is just something really egregious and insulting at the way a "modern retelling" over an ancient greek myth just full-heartedly whitewashes the entire culture and mythos.

and it's not like rachel is the first to do it - greek myths and legends have been whitewashed for centuries, depictions of the gods have been categorically stripped of their ethnicity and origins long before rachel got a hold of them. it's the fact that rachel goes out of her way to insult the original myths whenever she can, that she emphasizes and pushes a western-centric mindset and viewpoint over and over and over and not only reinforces the whitewashing, but continues it down the line.

like, this is the first episode.

rachel goes out of her way to mock the original styles and wardrobes of the ancient greek world, and i get her attempt was to make persephone feel "out of place" with the more "modern" clothing that the other gods wear, but it really just does more to a) demonize demeter, who is almost always in traditional clothing, b) sexualize persephone.

go even broader with it, move away from the clothing itself, and rachel doesn't even bother to use any of the ancient traditions that are core to the myths. like for the love of god, she uses a christian wedding for persephone and hades!

greece is the birthplace of modern democracy and had a powerful judicial system, and rachel instead uses the modern / western iteration of court because ... why not

(completely unrelated but the inserts of everyone except eros and aphrodite come from the stupid zoom session zeus had back when he first charged persephone with treason, meaning we have proof yet again that rachel isn't drawing the characters into the scene, she's making pngs and sticking them into pre-arranged backgrounds downloaded from stock images)

and there are ten thousand more examples i could pull, because this is just the whole entire comic. you can look at a lot of modern adaptions and see where things have been modernized respectfully, and where they are done with disdain for the source material - no one is claiming percy jackson, for example, is perfect, but the author took a great deal of care in his research, and the love for the original myths and culture shine through. lore olympus has zero respect for the original stories, exemplified in how rachel demonizes demeter - the actual crux of the myth. it's bad writing and bad research and further attempts to whitewash a rich and storied culture that had people from so many walks of life, who existed in full spectrum of lgbt identity, who did not conform or even know of the world that exists today. you can modernize without erasing it, and rachel's refusal to do so is one of the many issues tacked to lore olympus.

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° stains where you should be

( hinata shoyo x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — back in my haikyuu writing era ;)

♡ word count — 1.1k

♡ content — hinata shoyo x fem! reader, brazil! hinata, pro beach volleyball player! reader, slight nsfw, 18+, no explicit nsfw but it is mentioned, manga spoilers ig? even though i'm sure that many people know how it ends, established relationship, messy relationship, yearning, lmk if i missed anything!

♡ synopsis — after half a year in Brazil, the only time hinata feels like he is home...is when he's with you.

The first time Hinata sees you, you’re standing in the sand like you were born there.

The wind howls around you, but you don’t waver. The sand shifts beneath your feet, but you don’t stumble. Every movement is precise, every step purposeful.

You’re not just playing beach volleyball—you are the game, completely in sync with the rhythm of the court, the rush of the ocean breeze, the pulse of competition.

Hinata watches, entranced.

He came to Brazil to train, to push himself beyond his limits, to become more than just the player he was. But here, on the beach, everything is different.

The sand swallows his steps, the wind steals his control, and suddenly, the court he knew so well has transformed into something untamed.

He’s never played like this before, never had to adjust for an environment that fights back.

But you? You make it look effortless.

The match ends, and he’s already moving toward you before he fully realizes it. His shirt sticks to his skin, damp from his own practice, but all he can think about is you.

“How do you do it?” he blurts out, still catching his breath.

You turn, blinking at him with an unreadable expression. Up close, you’re even more intimidating—not in size, but in presence. Like you know exactly who you are, like the world doesn’t shake you.

“Do what?” you ask, tilting your head.

Hinata gestures vaguely to the sand, the wind, everything. “That! The way you move, the way you—like the wind doesn’t even touch you. How do you jump like that?”

A slow smile tugs at your lips. “I guess I just got used to it.”

“Teach me,” he says immediately, voice alight with determination. “Please.”

You exhale, watching him for a long moment before nodding. “Alright. Hope you’re ready to eat a lot of sand.”

It starts as training.

Late-night sessions on the sand, long after the sun has dipped below the horizon. The two of you meet when the rest of the world has gone quiet, when the only sounds left are the crash of waves and the occasional distant laughter from a nearby beach bar.

At first, he struggles. A lot.

The sand betrays him. The wind mocks him. The game he thought he understood has changed, and he stumbles over his own feet more times than he can count.

You laugh every time.

“Did you just trip over the air?” you tease as he groans, face-first in the sand.

“It moved!” Hinata protests, spitting out a mouthful of grit. “I swear the sand moved!”

You roll your eyes, offering him a hand. He takes it without hesitation.

The nights blur together—long hours spent chasing the ball, learning the subtle shifts of the wind, adjusting his jumps. He gets better. He learns fast. And as the training stretches on, something else changes, too.

One night, after an exhausting session, you tilt your head at him. “My place is closer than yours,” you say. “You can crash there if you want.”

Hinata hesitates for only a second before nodding. “Yeah. Okay.”

Your home is small but warm. The kind of place that feels lived in, filled with little pieces of you—a shelf lined with trophies, photos pinned up on a board, the lingering scent of something citrusy in the air.

You toss him a towel and some clean clothes. “These should fit you.”

Hinata looks down at the oversized towel wrapped around his waist. “What? You don’t like my new look?”

You snort. “Not unless you plan on making it a fashion statement.”

He grins but takes the clothes, disappearing into the bathroom. When he emerges, you’re already settled on the couch, a movie playing in the background.

Hinata isn’t really watching.

His gaze drifts to you—the way you’re curled up, comfortable, the way the screen flickers across your face. He doesn’t know why, but he wants to be closer.

The movie ends. You stretch, turning to him with a sleepy smile. “Goodnight, Hinata.”

Before he can stop himself, he leans in and kisses you.

Your breath hitches, but you don’t pull away. You kiss him back, fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer, and before either of you fully register what’s happening, you’re tangled together—breathless, desperate, lost in each other.

By the time you make it to your room, he’s memorizing the way your skin feels under his hands, the way your laughter gets caught in your throat. You sigh his name.

And for the first time since coming to Brazil, Hinata feels like he’s home.

You are happy. Really happy.

Days spent playing, nights spent wrapped up in each other, whispered confessions between laughter. You make promises in the dark, in the spaces between his dreams.

And then—he leaves.

Hinata tells you he’ll come back. Of course he will. How could he not? Brazil changed him. You changed him. He says it with so much conviction that you believe him.

But then the months pass. And pass.

You call. No answer. You text. No response.

Then one day, you see the headline.

“Hinata Shoyo Signs with MSBY Black Jackals”

The picture shows him back in Japan, grinning, surrounded by everything he once dreamed of.

Your hands tremble as you set your phone down. You wait for a message, for anything.

But nothing comes.

And for the first time, you wonder if he ever planned to come back at all.

It happens at a match.

You’re focused on the game, locked in, until you feel it—eyes on you.

When you glance to the side of the court, he’s there.

Hinata, hands shoved in his pockets, watching you like he did that first time.

Your chest tightens.

After the game, he approaches, hesitant but there.

“Hey,” he says softly.

You exhale. “Hey.”

For a long moment, neither of you speak. Then, he swallows. “Can we talk?”

You hesitate before nodding.

The restaurant is quiet. The food is untouched.

Hinata had requested a private room for the two of you, the empty room almost seeming as if it was mocking you. You'd rather be playing volleyball naked, you think.

Anything would be better than this strange form of torture Hinata has put you through.

You stare at your glass, and then the words slip out before you can stop them.

“I waited for you.”

Hinata’s breath catches. His grip tightens around his drink. “I know.”

Your voice wavers. “I waited, and you didn’t come back.”

When you finally look at him, tears are welling in your eyes.

Hinata feels something in his chest break, and before he can think—he’s kissing you.

Between kisses, he mumbles

I missed you.

Missed Brazil.

Missed us.

I love you.

When you pull away, your voice is quiet. “Then prove it.”

And this time—he will.

He swears by it.

trying to get back into multi-fandom writing :) hope this was good!

likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated!

[milswrites]

Hobbies Part 3.

~Azriel X Reader

Summary: In an attempt to keep Azriel away from Elain, Rhys sends him on a sabbatical to the Day Court. With a lot more free time on his hands Azriel needs to find something to keep him occupied. Unfortunately he meets Y/N who has the annoying habit of not staying away. Can she teach him that there’s more to life than he thought?

Grumpy!Azriel X Sunshine!Reader

Series masterlist

Warnings: Tiny bit of angst and sadness. Light injury (nothing too bad)

“Why is it whenever you come to my door you’re always dressed so strangely?”

Azriel has had four blissfully peaceful days since the training session with Y/N . He knew she would turn up again at some point, having promised she’d come back and make him try something new.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly looking forward to spending time with Y/N again, he just assumed it was due to the fact that life in the Day Court for him was awfully dull. At least he now knew where the training grounds were and found most of his time was now spent there. Still just himself for company, he had now adopted his regular pre-sabbatical training routine and he had even been on a few late night flights, the need to stretch his wings too much to deny.

Azriel would also be lying if he said he wasn’t waiting on Y/N’s arrival at his flat once more. A shadow constantly waiting by his front door, even when he was out of his flat, to ensure that he would always know when she was waiting outside to meet him.

That’s what lead him to where he was now.

He had been outside, busy at the training ground and focussed on practicing a very difficult drill with his daggers, when the small wisp of one of his shadows came flying into the arena causing him to immediately stop what he was doing.

‘She’s here’ it told him ‘she’s waiting for you’.

At once Azriel sheathed his daggers and took off flying. Speeding towards the direction of his flat. Not wanting Y/N to know he had left a shadow at the door, purely with the intention of alerting him of her presence, Azriel squeezed himself through his open window. A window which definitely had not been built with the intention of a large Illyrian male squeezing through it but Azriel would rather suffer through the embarrassment of having to contort his body and drag himself through, rather than be faced with Y/N’s teasing grin at the fact he had been expecting her and rushed back to greet her.

After managing to crawl through his window, landing on the floor with a bang he prayed she didn’t hear, Azriel rushed to the door hoping Y/N was still there and hadn’t left having waited too long for a response.

Taking in a deep breath to try and return his breathing to normal, Azriel opened the door. He was met yet again with Y/N standing there, grin on your face, in another totally ridiculous outfit.

“What do you mean strange?” Y/N whined dramatically, hand placed over her heart as if his words hurt. Of course this wasn’t the case as the smile on her face had transformed into a smirk, clearly she was expecting him to say that, “Clearly you’ve never seen Day Court riding attire before.”

“Riding?! Like horses?!”

“No Azriel, riding like dragons, yes of course we’re riding horses!”

Azriel was now sure Rhysand had sent Y/N to torture him as punishment for what he did. He had never been on a horse and had absolutely no no intention of ever being on one. The small trace of excitement he had at the prospect of Y/N returning to his flat with a new hobby for him to try had completely left his mind. Azriel now in a mood and frankly he was slightly scared by the prospect of him on a horse.

“What a shame, I actually have plans for today” he shrugged mock-sympathetic look on his face as he attempted to pull his door to before Y/N could convince him otherwise. Something he was certain she would be able to do with little more than a smile.

“Hold on batboy,” Y/N chuckled, hand reaching out to grab the door before he could close it, “I did something you like, you’re going to do something I like. Deals the deal.”

“We didn’t make a deal” Azriel tried to reason, eyes focussed down the hallway of the flat so to avoid looking into her wide, begging ones that were no doubt staring at him.

“Yes we did”

“No we didn’t”

“Yes we- oh for mother’s sake Azriel! I thought you Illyrians were meant to be honest males!”

At this Azriel couldn’t help but release a barking laugh, “Sweetheart I don’t know what you think you know about Illyrians but that is most definitely wrong.”

“Oh well just…please Azriel,” as she said this Y/N softly moved one of her hands to rest on Azriel’s arm that was holding onto the door, “it would mean a lot to me.”

Azriel’s gaze flickered to where her hand rested on him, jaw clenching as his felt his control slip.

“Isn’t there something else you want to do?”

There wasn’t. Azriel had given in and now he found himself face to face with an overly skittish horse, clearly not a fan of his large wings. Y/N was already up on her horse, beaming down at Azriel as she waited patiently for him to mount.

Tentatively, he took a step towards the horse Y/N had selected for him to ride, pulling his wings in hoping that it would be less intimidating, the animal immediately shuffled backwards nervously.

“Y/N I don’t think this is a good idea” Azriel said turning towards the woman who was clearly enjoying his discomfort.

Giggling, she hopped off of her horse before walking over to Azriel and grabbing his hand. Not expecting this, Azriel flinched and yanked his hand away from her grip turning his head away from her, not wanting to see her disgust as she took in the mangled state of his hands.

“What are you doing?” He tried to snap at her but the words came out more unsure and shaky.

“Azriel”, Y/N spoke, drawing his eyes back to her kind face, “it’s ok, look.” With that Y/N took his hand again, her hold light as if giving him the chance to pull away again if he wanted to. Trusting her, Azriel exhaled and watched as she brought his scarred hand to his horses side moving it up and down in a gentle stroke, action calming the anxious mare.

Y/N’s hand lingered over his for a while, caught in the moment before she pulled away. Slow enough that Azriel was reassured it was not because of the marred skin of his hands. The back of his hand still tingling from where she had touched him.

“See?” She spoke softly, eyes slightly glazed. Azriel could have sworn he saw her shake her head a little, bringing herself back from wherever her mind had wandered to, before she took a step back away from his body, creating distance between them.

“Do you need help getting on?”

Neglecting a verbal response, Azriel shook his head, hand still pressed to the side of the horse where she had placed it. He knew the logistics over getting on a horse he had just never tried to before. Awkwardly, he placed his foot in the stirrup before pushing himself up and bringing his other leg over so he was sat on the horse. He made sure to lift his wings and spread them out a little to avoid them touching the horses back in fear their unfamiliar presence may cause him to get bucked off.

Azriel was sure of two things. One, he looked like an absolute idiot on this horse and if Cassian could see him now he would never let Azriel live it down. And two, Y/N was enjoying his struggle and obvious distaste for animals a little too much.

As they plodded along a dirt path outside of the city, Azriel kept a miserable eye on Y/N who wasn’t afraid to let out a loud cackle every time he showed any sign of stiffness or discomfort.

“Hanging in all right bat boy?” She grinned as Azriel released a groan, no one ever told him how much riding a horse hurt your backside.

“Is this supposed to be enjoyable? This can’t actually be your hobby” he mumbled, shifting on the back of his horse to try and find some semblance of comfort for his rear.

“It’s not,” Y/N replied, “never actually been on a horse before either, I had to beg Helion to let me borrow these from his stable.”

Her comment made Azriel pull on the reins tightly until his horse came to a stop, Y/N still moving on ahead, “What do you mean you’ve never been on a horse? The whole reason I’m here is because you said we were going to do something you like!”

“Hm no I don’t recall saying that” Y/N turned her head over her shoulder, flashing Azriel a cheeky grin before facing forward once more. He huffed and did his best to get his horse moving again, this taking a few attempts, riding along until he was side by side with Y/N.

“So why are we doing this instead of dress shopping or gossiping over some tea?”

Y/N gasped playfully, “Dear me Azriel, you can’t truly believe my hobbies would be something as mundane as shopping or talking. I never took you for a gossip though, that’s good to know”

“Well you seem to do too much of that” Huffed Azriel under his breath.

“Besides, consider this payback”

“Payback?”

“For training the other day, can’t think I’m going to let you flip me onto the floor and get away with it”

And with that Y/N pulled off into a gallop down the dirt track, flying away from Azriel, her laugh hanging in the air, his heart fluttering at the sound. Competitive spirit stirring, and a weird need to impress Y/N, Azriel urged his horse to move faster in an attempt to outrace Y/N who already had a very large head start.

This wasn’t Azriel’s smartest idea as it wasn’t long before he felt the reins slip from his grasp and the next thing he knew he was falling off the back of his horse with a startled yelp. His body and wings scraping against the ground as he made contact, rolling to a stop, horse running off into the distance.

Groaning, Azriel just laid there, hands on his face in exasperation. The sound of hooves coming closer forced him to sit up, watching a panicked Y/N canter towards him, his horse in tow. She hopped off her own, worry evident in her face, and ran to Azriel.

“Cauldron are you ok?!!” She dropped to her knees, grabbing his face in the palm of her hands and scanning him over for injuries. Azriel brushed her off of him, embarrassed at the events that had transpired.

“If this is your idea of payback it definitely worked, think I ended up a lot worse off than you did though”

Y/N broke out into laughter, a sound so sweet and inviting that Azriel couldn’t help but join along. The two of them sat on the ground, dirt on their clothes, laughing hysterically until tears filled their eyes and they couldn’t breathe anymore.

“Let’s do something a little less high risk next time yeah?” Azriel says when his breath returns to normal, his smile had gone, it left with the last laugh that had escaped his mouth, but his cheeks still sweetly stung from the memory of it all the same.

“You mean you still want to keep hanging out with me?” Y/N was joking, but Azriel could still see the trace of insecurity in her eyes that she had blown her shot, that Azriel wouldn’t want to see her anymore after forcing him along on this disastrous trip. He wanted to comfort her, take her hand and tell her that he wasn’t going anywhere. But it was Azriel’s rogue emotions that brought him to this court in the first place and he wasn’t going to allow them to mess anything else up. Azriel called back his shadows that were swirling around them both playfully, thriving off of the joy they were previously emitting.

Clearing his throat and moving to his feet he answered, “I haven’t completely dismissed that as an option, can’t say I’ve particularly enjoyed anything we’ve done.”

His words had hurt Y/N, Azriel could tell that much, he noticed how her smile had wavered, how her eyebrows knitted together and the spark he so admired in Y/N’s eyes had dimmed. Guilt crawled into Azriel’s chest but he knew it was probably for the best, he’d entertain her visits and activities but he couldn’t allow himself to grow any closer. He knew he wouldn’t be here forever, sure that any week now Rhysand would return calling him back to his duties at the night court and he would go, leaving Y/N behind.

So Azriel looked down at Y/N who was still sat on the floor before, hurt on her face and he turned back to his horse, grabbing the reins and climbing on, “come on, let’s head back.” Y/N nodded, wordlessly picking herself up from the floor, she brushed the dirt from her clothes and hopped onto her horse.

They rode in silence, Azriel wanting nothing more in this moment than for her to start one of her conversations that he once found so unbearably annoying. Even praying that she would start her melodic humming, a sign that he hadn’t hurt her feelings too much. But Y/N didn’t make a sound.

Sighing to himself over the fact that he had found himself caring so much about this woman he barely knew in the space of such a small time, Azriel broke the silence, wanting to reduce the rift he had so suddenly opened between them. “So what do you actually enjoy doing. If not torturing the male species”He lamely attempted a pathetic excuse for a joke, recalling when the atmosphere around them both was lighter and more playful, wishing for it to return.

Without looking at him, Y/N replied quietly, “I don’t get much free time. But when I do I like to bake or sow, I enjoy making dresses.”

In an attempt to make her smile Azriel spoke, “someone who meant a lot to me used to sow, she must have made hundreds of the most beautiful dresses I’ve ever seen. She made one our high lady wore once, it looked like she had sown together pure starlight.” He glanced to his side where Y/N was riding, a wistful smile creeping onto her lips as if she wished she could create something just as magical.

“I don’t think I’ve ever made anything quite like that”

“I’m sure you’re great. Maybe one day you’ll even make something for me?” It may have been a bit presumptuous of Azriel to say, but at the sight of her usual smile finally on her face he was glad he said it. And Azriel quite liked it, the idea of wearing something made by her.

“A dress?” She teased, the stiff atmosphere around them had blown away with the gentle breeze, a comfortable warmth taking its place.

“I would make a dress work if that’s what you made me. You’ve already put me through enough torture I’m sure I could endure a little bit more.”

Y/N snorted, hand flying to her mouth in an attempt to cover the sound but Azriel caught it and swore to himself he would do everything in his power to make sure he was never the reason for Y/N losing her smile again. As they continued along the path that led back to the city, dirt on their clothes and contentment on their faces. Azriel couldn’t wait for what she had planned next… as long as it didn’t actually involve him having to wear a dress.

Part 4

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

Notes: I don’t know much about horses so please don’t come for me if I’ve said something wrong <3

Taglist:

@thelov3lybookworm @minnieoo @going-through-shit @iluvyewman-blog @laughterafter @amysangel @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @darling006 @anuttellaa @serendipityx150 @xxxalicerogersxx @that-one-little-soybean @scatteredstardustt @naturakaashi @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove

(I’m so sorry I couldn’t get some of them to work, and I’m even more sorry if it’s just my awful spelling)

[jaeedraszaerysz]

JON SNOW ☆ DATING HCS

SFW 💕💕

It would probably take him a while to trust you if you hadn't known him very long.

If you grew up with or close to the Starks he tried to befriend you before Robb did

He would always be scared that he would steal your heart away

You would spend hours mocking the men and women of the courts

When Robert Baratheon came to visit you both sat outside taking the piss out of all the Lords and ladies and any twat who dared speak low of either of you.

Tyrion Lannister defos assumed u were a couple and when you told him otherwise, he just shook his head.

Catelyn would probably despise you for being so close to him.

Ned would love you though, thanking the gods silently that the boy had someone by his side.

He would probably have kissed you before he left for the nights watch and spent his nights wondering whether leaving you was worth it all.

When you eventually found your way back to him it was rather chaotic.

You were probably interrogated by tormund on arrival

Atleast until Jon saw you, never forgetting your face.

You probably punched him square in the face and then proceeded to have a huge, westeros equivalent of Oscar worthy, makeput session infront of everyone.

Ghost, when not growling at random twats, would act like a second protector when Jon wasn't by your side.

Arya either loves you or hates you

Sansa is, just like her father was, happy Jon has someone.

Bran doesn't care. He's too busy wheeling around doing seven eyes Sparrow shit or whatever he called it.

You and Davos defos spend ages tryna talk some sense into him.

He always seems to be holding you in some way

Whether it be your arm, hand, waist. He would probably play with your hands or you hair often.

Is always bloody staring

Like never stops

His eyes are for you and only you

Takes. You. Everywhere.

Like no debates. He goes, you follow. Or vice versa.

He took you with him to meet with ramsay and if he made any comment whatsoever it was straight up a routine by now.

Death stare, holds onto you twelve times tighter, kills the offender within 24 hours.

Loves it when you fall asleep on him because he's happy you feel safe with him.

Head kisses.

Need I say more?

Everywhere anytime.

Head. Fucking. Kisses.

Walking past. Head kiss.

Sat next to him at dinner. Head kiss.

In an extremely serious situation requiring your full attention. Head kiss.

Dying. Head kiss.

It's like his fucking bread and butter.

When you first met daenerys it was bad vibes.

Like very bad.

No clue why she just doesn't sit right with you.

Either grows to love you or ends up hating you with a passion.

No in-between.

He dreams of having a normal life.

He would want three kids, two boys and girl so they could protect their sister.

Maybe another direwolf or four. One for each and one for you.

Can't sleep when you aren't next to him.

Teaches you to sword fight extremely early on in your relationship.

If you were ill or pregnant he would never leave your side.

Never ever ever never.

He's convinced that you could have a hundred children and you would still be the person he loves most in the world.

Would do anything for you.

Minors DNI below this line.

NSFW ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 (implied female reader)

Worships you like no one else

Touching you always.

Passes it off for his hand on your back but in reality he's secretly caressing your ass, or will have his arms under your cloak, passing it off as a hug, and will gently squeeze your boobs.

Neck kisses.

His favourite thing in the world.

Loves to leave marks on you wherever he can.

Has definitely kissed every inch of your body

Gives no fucks about scars or hair or anything of the sort.

Boobs.

Lives laughs loves your boobs.

Will lay with his face buried in them at any time.

Minor inconvenience? Someone was being a twat? He's tired?

Boob pillow.

Will eat you out for hours.

Insatiable.

You have any problems at all? Sit on his face.

If he's had a bad day he will legit just stuff his face between your thighs.

His fave place.

Says that if you suffocated him it would be an amazing way to go.

Probably prefers giving but he will never say no to receiving.

His dick is probs like 6-7 inches.

Takes tormunds advice very seriously.

Loves to see how many fingers you can take before he stuffs you.

Will go for as many rounds as you need.

Always a gentleman, making sure your comfortable and that your satisfied.

Cockwarming he loves.

Cuddles afterwards.

He will slide out of you and pull you onto on him, pulling the blankets up and wrapping his body around yours.

Calls you love but with his gorgeous deep voice.

Has a sexy asf morning voice.

He's so whipped for you he can't function somedays.

[gingerteafairy]

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲, 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗱 (𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝘅𝗶𝗺𝗼𝗳𝗳𝘀 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿)

@ikkyfics you match my freak, ily. masterlist

The Maximoffs are chaotic, over-caffeinated tornados. But when they work together? Trouble.

tags n warnings: smut, mdni, therapist!reader, threesome, DUBCON, language, praise/degradation kink, blowjob, cheating, power use, semi public sex (office), p.e., fingering, cum eating, porn with plot, roleplay, dumbification. word count: 3.7k.

"Alright, let's try this again. Why are you here?" you asked once more, crossing your legs to steady your notebook as you prepared to take notes.

You checked the clock, fifteen minutes passed and those two didn't even say a word about the occurrence. They exchanged a glare filled with mutual disdain before shifting their eyes toward you.

"This guy is literally stealing my life!" Pietro burst out, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

"Oh, come on! Everyone knows I’m the better Quicksilver. Stop whining, loser." Peter rolled his eyes and crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

"Seriously, dude? You couldn’t come up with any other powers?" Pietro shot back, leaning forward slightly.

"Oh, you idiot. You’re so jealous you even stole my name." Peter jabbed a finger toward Pietro, who immediately swatted his hand away.

"Funny coming from a kleptomaniac," Pietro sneered.

Peter's mouth fell open before he let out a breathy, disbelieving laugh. "At least I didn’t commit identity theft. You literally just translated my name. PI-E-TRO."

"Okay, patriot. Your mom liked the idea when I found out she was pregnant," Pietro mocked, arching an eyebrow. Peter clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around his own arms.

"That’s rich coming from you. Speed’s the one thing you’re actually good at, huh?" Peter shot back. “Can’t last longer than 3 seconds at this speed, right?”

That was the last straw. Pietro lost his temper, grabbing Peter by the collar of his shirt.

"You son of a—!"

"Enough!" you sighed, raising your voice a little louder than what was considered professional for a therapist. Taking a deep breath, you straightened your posture and forced a composed, professional smile.

"Now, let’s try this again. Why exactly did you two end up in the police station and get court-ordered to attend these therapy sessions?"

The two Maximoffs tensed at the question, shifting stiffly in their seats on the couch. Though their posture became slightly more formal, their glares and barely contained anger made it clear they’d rather be anywhere but here. A tense silence settled between them as they avoided eye contact, suddenly very interested in every insignificant detail of the office—except for each other.

"Peter?" you called out.

He jerked his head up, looking startled, sniffed, and rubbed his forehead.

"Do I gotta go first?" he groaned, scrunching up his nose like the idea physically pained him.

"You always do when it comes to women," Pietro chuckled, winking at Peter with a mocking charm.

Peter stiffened, his fingers twitching like he was fighting the urge to lunge, but he held back, inhaling sharply through his nose.

"Alright… so, uh… you know how me and Pietro are both, like… fast?" He gestured vaguely, his words dragging like he was stalling. "We kinda… got the same powers, so…"

"We decided to race," Pietro cut in, crossing his arms and leaning back like he wasn’t slightly embarrassed admitting it out loud. "For the record—I won."

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Peter muttered, his foot tapping so fast against the floor that the whole damn room vibrated.

"Aw, what’s wrong? You mad ‘cause you lost?" Pietro grinned, his voice teasing as he pouted to him.

You shot him a sharp look. He immediately put his hands up. "Alright, alright. My bad."

You exhaled, shifting in your seat. "Okay… Pietro, do you feel like Peter copies you?"

The answer was obvious, but honestly? You were still figuring out how to handle this. This was your first time counseling mutants, and these two? They were like a chaotic, over-caffeinated tornado. But you couldn’t deny it—it was kind of cool.

"Do I feel like he copies me?" Pietro scoffed, tossing his hands up. "Uh, yeah. Dude wants everything I got. My name, my powers, my fights, my women—"

"Wait—women?" you blinked, trying to absorb the nonsense.

"This idiot stole my girlfriend," Pietro accused, pouting his thumb to his side.Peter smirked, then tried (and failed) to hide it behind his hand.

"Peter, is that true?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I didn’t know she was his girlfriend!" Peter defended, throwing his hands up. "She just ran up, kissed me, and said she always wanted to make out with a Quicksilver." He shrugged. "I mean… kinda funny the whore knowing who's the original."

"And how did that make you feel, Pietro?" you asked, settling back into your chair.

Pietro rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Pfft. Annoyed? But, like—not surprised. Typical little thief behavior."

"I don’t steal anymore!" Peter shot back, smacking his hands against the couch.

"Yeah, but you’re still an idiot."

"Guys, please," you interjected, setting your notebook aside with your lecture glasses. "Look, I’m gonna be real with you. You two? You're some of the coolest mutants out there. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a runner—like, badly. But more than that? I always thought it'd be awesome to see you working together instead of trying to one-up each other. Don’t you think you could take down way more bad guys as a team?"

Unprofessional? Oh, absolutely. But these two were far from typical patients, and something told you this was the best approach.

And, shockingly—it worked.

Peter blinked. Then he let out a low whistle, shaking his head with a crooked grin. "Damn. That was kinda… deep."

"Yeah, uh… wow," Pietro muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "That’s… real different." He exhaled, rocking forward slightly. "Alright, fine. We’ll try to cooperate."

"Yeah. We will," Peter agreed, eyes flickering with something serious for the first time all session.

You smiled, feeling like you might have actually made some progress with the Maximoffs. Which was saying something, considering they’d already burned through four therapists—one of whom straight-up retired after dealing with them. You weren’t exactly sure what worked, but you had a feeling it had something to do with the fact that, deep down, you admired them. Unlike the others, who had only met their sarcasm with eye rolls and thinly veiled contempt.

"I wanna add something to that agreement," Pietro suddenly announced, raising a hand like he was in a classroom.

That actually caught you off guard. Was he… taking initiative?

"Uh—sure, Pietro. Go ahead. This is a safe space," you replied, lacing your fingers together in your lap like a proper professional.

"Yeah, just one thing—no more stealing other people’s girlfriends," he said flatly.

Peter groaned dramatically, throwing himself across the couch. "Dude, get over it already, for the love of God!" He whined, raking his fingers through his silver hair.

"What? Look, I think the therapist is hot, you probably think she’s hot—so you’re not gonna be with her," Pietro said, his voice dropping into something almost threatening.

Peter sat up instantly, staring him down. "No, I’m gonna be with her."

Pietro stood.

Peter stood.

And just like that, they were squared off like two boxers in a ring.

"I’m not gonna be with anyone!" you cut in, standing up too. "Jesus, every time I think we’re making progress, you two find a way to completely derail it!"

"Sorry. I’ll behave," Peter mumbled, looking down like a scolded kid.

"Yeah… my bad," Pietro sighed, hands resting on his hips. He hesitated before adding, "But, uh… what do you think of me—I mean, uh, us?"

"I think I can’t do this. It’s not professional," you said firmly, crossing your arms.

"But what if… I dunno… hypothetically—you could?" Peter murmured, raising an eyebrow at you.

And for a split second, the idea made you waver.

You clicked your tongue, scanning the room as if searching for an escape. "I’m referring you both to another professional," you declared, already walking toward your desk to grab your phone.

"What?! Why?" Peter practically whined, stepping into your personal space, lips curving into an exaggerated pout.

You sighed, setting your phone down again and pressing your fingers to your temples. "Because. When a therapist develops feelings for a patient that cross professional boundaries, they’re supposed to step away. Bringing emotions into it? That can cloud judgment. And that’s not something I’m willing to risk."

For a moment, that seemed to convince him. Maybe even you. But then you remembered something.

When the two Maximoffs worked together?

That meant trouble.

"So… you do feel something for us?" Pietro finally broke the silence, his eyes locked onto yours, dead serious.

Your breath hitched. You clenched your fists at your sides, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. "Look… admiration is easily confused for lust. It happens all the time—it’s just part of the whole messy spectrum of human emotions."

"Lust?" Peter echoed, one eyebrow shooting up.

You swallowed hard, rolling your shoulders in a weak attempt to shake off the tension.

"Yeah," you repeated, forcing your voice to stay steady. "Which is exactly why I’m giving you two options—either you leave now before this turns into a complete disaster, or you stay and we pretend to make progress for the next 35 minutes so no one gets suspicious."

Pietro tilted his head slightly, his smirk lazy. "No one has to know, doc," he murmured, stepping in closer until he was at your right side. "Unless you tell them."

"There’s, like, patient confidentiality, right?" Peter added smoothly, sliding into place on your left.

Your heart pounded so hard you swore they could hear it. The proximity of your two favorite mutants—two men you’d admired for years—was making your head spin.

"Y-Yeah… there is," you admitted, barely above a whisper. You were trying so hard to keep it together, to act professional, to not look like some desperate needy woman.

"This is a safe space," Pietro teased, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "So go ahead, doc," he murmured, thumb brushing lightly against the curve of your jaw. "Say whatever you want."

Your gaze flickered to the clock on the wall, grasping for anything to ground yourself. "There’s still… 35 minutes left in this session,"

Peter grinned, his hand pressing against the small of your back. "Perfect," he mused. "That’s plenty of time. We’re fast, aren’t we, Pietro?"

"More than enough," Pietro agreed.

Then, he gently tilted your face toward him, his voice dipping lower. "So… what’s bothering you, doc?"

"Nothing," you exhaled, heart hammering, body betraying you. You couldn’t even bring yourself to move his hand away. "This session is about you two, not me."

Peter tsked, shaking his head. "See, that’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart." His fingers curled under your chin, tugging your gaze toward him instead. "This session? It’s all about you."

Your breath hitched.

"Tell me something," Peter continued, voice dropping into something warm and coaxing. "You see a therapist?"

Your lips parted, but no sound came out at first. Finally, you whispered, "No…"

A slow, satisfied grin spread across Peter’s face.

"Then this is your chance to let it all out," he murmured, pressing his thumbs lightly into your cheeks. "You're so damn pretty, doc… but you look so stressed. Tell us what you really want."

Your pulse spiked—this was getting out of hand.You pulled away abruptly, stepping back, heading straight for the door.But before you could even reach the handle—

A gust of wind rushed past you.

Pietro was already there, blocking your way.

And another burst of air—Peter had already found the key, twirling it between his fingers before shoving it deep into his pocket. Your stomach flipped as the undesired heat rushed on your core.

"Avoidant behavior isn’t healthy, doc," Pietro teased, smirking. His voice was drenched in that same mix of sarcasm and effortless flirtation.

"Pietro… Peter… please," you whispered. “I won't send you to any other therapist, okay? Just… let me out, huh?”

Peter shook his head, giving you a slow, knowing look. "Nah." He tilted his head, eyes gleaming.

"This session ends," he said smoothly, "when you tell us how you really feel about us, doc. So sit down and relax, you're not going anywhere without proper care.”

You had no options. They were mutants.So, you did the only thing you could do—you walked toward your armchair, ready to sit down and say whatever was necessary to get through this.

But Peter had other plans.

"Uh-uh," he interrupted, shaking his head as he pointed to the couch. "Sofa."

You hesitated, but ultimately obeyed, sinking down between them.

"Good girl," Peter hummed, flashing a smirk as they settled in close on either side of you. "Now… what’s been bothering you?"

Your throat felt tight. You couldn’t look at them, so you fixed your stare on the floor instead.Then, you felt Pietro’s hands on your shoulders. A slow, deliberate massage. Firm fingers kneading into your tension.

"You’re so tense…" he murmured, pressing a little harder. A quiet, unbidden grunt slipped from your lips.

"Running from your feelings is only gonna make things worse," he added, voice low and knowing.

"I… I’m uncomfortable with this," you lied, though your body was betraying you completely—shoulders loosening under his touch, breath steadying, eyes fluttering half-shut.

They noticed. Peter reached for your hands, his touch light but insistent.

"You need to relax," he said gently, voice laced with something syrupy—something coaxing.And damn it, this was relaxing. You’d been working so hard for so long—maybe you did deserve this.

“You seem hurt. Can you tell me where it hurts, doc?”

And somehow, your body listened. Your head nodded all on its own. Peter smirked, palming his hand on your forehead. “Is it here?”

“No…" you murmured, looking between them, eyes soft.

“Uhmm…I see…” he muttered, snaking his hand to your throat, giving a gentle grip that crept a sigh out of you. “Nah… that's not the right place. Should i keep exploring?”

Your body trembled for a moment, but then—slowly—you let yourself sink into the plush cushions, head tilting back, breath evening out.

He kept exploring from your collarbone, shoulders, arms, chest and finally to your belly, just at the hem of your skirt, where he paused and your brows knit together, not wanting them to stop.

“Oh… is it here?” He cooed, his fingers entering on the fabric, playing and testing the softness of the skin.

“No, it's…” you swallowed, regretting telling it, but it was so good. “It's lower…”

Two pairs of sharp eyes watched you, studying every shift, every exhale. Peter licked his lips and unzipped your skirt, downing it, watching you toss it to the ground.

“I know how to make this pain go away, doc,” Pietro smirked, leaving your shoulders and palming the soft flesh of your inner thigh, approaching the heat. He sides your panties, chuckling at the glistening spot. “Look, Peter. Our doc is suffering so much, we need to do something.”

Peter nodded, biting his lip as his cock felt painful on his pants by the sight of your clit getting moist by Pietro's fingers wet with your arousal, massaging the spot.

You shutted your eyes, grinding on his finger light touch to get more pressure. He chuckled, nuzzling his fingers. “Fuck, do that again.”

Pietro grinned, taking the loose hair locks out of your face to see your dizzy expression better. "See? Progress.”

“She's evolving so much,” Peter cooed, approaching his fingers to your slit, teasing the entrance. “D’you think she can handle a little more?”

“Oh, I’m sure she can. She's strong, aren't you, sweetheart?” Pietro pouted, applying more pressure to the vibrations.

“Yeah…” you mumble, whimpering when Peter's finger slipped inside your needy cunt.

“It's sucking me,” he added, curling his fingers teasingly as you moaned slyly. “Shhh. Calm down, doc. You don't want anyone hearing your session, right?”

“Uh-huh,” you whined, digging your fingers on the couch as the both of their fingers vibrated and their gaze lighted you even more as the first signs of your orgasm approached. “I'm gonna cum, m gonna…”

They stopped.

“What? You really did think we’d let you cum easily like this?” Peter provoked, pinching your fold lightly. “What do they say about medication, doc?”

You frowned, licking your lips as you tried to rationalize with your cunt pulsed as it had its own heart. “We need to introduce small doses, that way we can see if the patient is prepared… or ready for a bigger dose.”

“Yep!” Pietro smirked, petting the top of your head as he standed in front of you, unbuckling his belt. “Time for the medicine, doc…”

“Jeez, it sounded cheesy as fuck, dude.” Peter snorted and you relaxed, laughing with him. “See? You made her laugh, clownsilver.”

“Sad you won't get a blowjob, Peter.” He mocked, unbuttoning his jeans and finally freeing his cock from its confinement. “I’m gonna ruin your pretty mouth, is it okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, embarrassed enough to keep you shutted facing his veiny cock. You wrapped your hand on the base, mouth opening to welcome his length on your canal, a ‘pop’ sound coming when you toke it out to lick.

“Fuck, you're even better than I imagined,” he groaned, gripping your hair on a messy ponytail to face fuck you, tears and gags coming as a reflex. “Shit. Check this out, Peter… our little— hmmmghh—slut here is crying on my dick.”

“Don't call her slut,” he warned, cupping your engorged teary cheek, drool coming out. “Shh, my dear. Peter's gonna take care of you after this savage fucks your face, okay?”

“Nah, man. She's fucking loving it,” he chuckled, throwing his head back as his pace got faster, his cock spurting his seed on your mouth. “Yeah… take it… take it, darling. Swallow your medicine.”

You swallowed all, breathing heavily as you recovered. Pietro leaning his body down, cupping your face, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Atta girl.” He whispered, kissing you, feeling his own taste in your mouth. “All yours, quikdick.”

Peter smirked, looking at your disheveled face with flushed cheeks and swollen eyes. “Oh, my girl must be so tired…” he pouted, brushing your hair with his fingers. “C’mere. Quickie’s gonna make you feel good.”

He patted his lap, lips curling into a sly smile as you standed, peeling your panties off your body as you straddled on his lap, unbuttoning your shirt.

“25 minutes left,” you breathed, revealing your breasts covered by your lacey lingerie.

“You're so beautiful, doc.” He praised, surprising you as his hands drove to your chest, cupping the weight. He left your boobs to get his hard thick cock out of his jeans, gripping on your hips to guide you as you sink down on his length. “Shit, you feel so good, suga.”

Pietro sat down on the couch, touching his cock as he saw you starting to move up and down on Peter's fat cock, stretching your pussy, his tip kissing your cervix.

“C’mere, lay down on me,” Peter muttered, pulling you to his chest, your head resting on his shoulder. His feet planted on the ground to support his thrust on you.

“Fuck—yes, yes, yes, Peter,” you cried out, grasping his shirt, your clit rubbing on his abdomen as he turned his head to lick your neck.

Pietro’s cock was already hardened again at the scene, not resisting the urge to adjust his position to kiss you as he pumped his cock. Fuck, you couldn't even think about anything with Peter's cock buried inside you and Pietro's lips.

“Yeah, that's it…” he murmured sweet nothings in your ear, his hot breath causing shivers down your spine as you bounced on him, moans muffled by Pietro's lips, massaging your tongue.

“You taste so good,” Pietro praised, his tone soft, almost whiney-like as his fist rushed it's pace on his cock. “It's so fucking good to see you like this doc —ugh… being braindead… you're so smart and all… and here you are—can’t even say a word.”

“D’ya like this, doc? Being spoiled by two mutants?” Peter grunted, increasing his speed. “Think your greedy cunt want both of us, is it true? Can't —shit—decide between us? We need your judgement, doc. C’mon. Say it.”

“Uhmmm—” you tried to speak, but nothing came. You were seeing stars, no, better, lighting strikes. “Fuck—uhm, gonna cum.”

“Then, cum.” They both said in unison as you came shamelessly soaking Peter's lap, squeaking on Pietro's mid-part lips. He came with you and so did Peter, filling your womb with his thick white ropes as he slowed his rocking hips on you, giving a last one when he finished.

You paused, panting, unable to speak or even think straight by yourself, trying to stand, stumbling on your boneless legs. Both standed to help you, laying you down on the couch.

After the affectionate session, your eyelids were growing heavy with sleep on the couch. Peter narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms, while Pietro tilted his head, planting his hands on his hips.

“I think we overdosed her,” Peter mused, pressing his lips together—a bit ironic, considering he was the biggest culprit.

“Nah, she can handle it,” Pietro countered, flashing you a grin as you began to stir. “She’s our therapist. The smartest of them all. You think just anyone could keep up with our… situation?”

“No one,” Peter added, stepping closer and settling onto the couch. He grabbed your legs, resting them on his lap. Pietro followed suit, lifting your head to place it on his lap, his fingers immediately running through your hair in slow, soothing strokes.

“How much time do you think we’ve got, doc?” Pietro asked, glancing at the clock on the wall before turning his gaze to you.

“I’d say… five minutes,” you murmured, your eyes slipping shut.

Pietro smirked, exchanging a glance with the other Maximoff. “No, sweetheart,” he corrected, pinching your cheek playfully. “20 minutes.”

Frowning, you sat up and checked the clock. They were right. Peter chuckled at your confusion.

“Forgot already? We’re the fastest in the world.”

“No, I am,” Pietro argued.

“No, I am,” Peter shot back.

“No more sessions if you two don’t cut it out,” you threatened, barely suppressing your laughter. Positive reinforcement was, after all, the most effective approach when dealing with the Maximoffs.

[hyperballart]

Hello there (you're one of my favourite writers on here oml ❤️)

Patrick and Art heard that boxers and MMA fighters abstain from sex before a match because the build up of testosterone gives them a competitive edge...so they decide to abstain from girls, each other and even jerking off before a tournament...

How do you think it would go?

omg hi friend!!! thank you so so much it means a lot 😭😭🫶🫶🫶 sorry this is late but…

i feel like art would be stricter with it — not letting himself get any for weeks before an important doubles match with patrick. he advises his friend to follow along even though he knows he thinks he absolutely won’t, he mocks art for being so uptight, “you know that shit’s a myth right? or are you making up excuses cause you’re not getting laid?”

still, as a way to prove art wrong, he decides to involve himself into this ‘futile’ practice. he’s a bit careless with it as he is with most things — meaning he’ll sneak in a jerk off session once a week, and to him that’s technically full abstinence — and he honestly feels like he’s going crazy.

art is up before the sun begins to peek to go through his absurdly extensive workouts and he forces patrick to join because in his words, i want my partner to be on his best game. patrick allows himself to be bossed around by art because he secretly likes being put in his place by him. he’s giving patrick a strict diet to follow and showing him stretches. the latter has become a bit difficult as of recently.

the brunette lies down on a mat while art corrects his form, “dude you need to stretch them out more, you’re fucking stiff,” he holds his legs further to his chest, “see, there you go.”

he begins to grow stiffer somwhere else at that tone. patrick blames the lack of sex for the blood rushing to his cock and he tries playing it off, “you fold all your girls up like this, donaldson?” art scoffs and drops his legs, heading towards the treadmill, “fuck off.” he tries to burn the image of his friend bulge from his memory.

it’s weeks of this; constant training and tension, until the day of their tournament. they play flawlessly, laying out their chemistry and coordination on the court — they easily earn victory. by tradition patrick jumps in art’s arms and he presses a sloppy kiss on his forehead, “finally.”

after numerous pictures and handshakes they head back to their dorm with an unsettling silence. the second art turns the knob he is being slammed, “did you have your fun bossing me around?” art gasps at patrick’s grip on his shoulders against the shut door, the latter just laughs.

he gets in his face, “i was good. i ate all the nasty greens and eggs you shoved down my throat,” art’s eyes are honing in on patrick’s mouth at such a close proximity, “woke up on your schedule. didn’t even fuck, haven’t touched my dick — wasn’t i a good boy artie?” art nods dumbly.

“then that means i get rewarded, with whatever i want,” art nods again — he doesn’t even know what he’s agreeing to. patrick smashes his lips against his. it’s uncoordinated unlike their behavior on the courts — both of their minds blank and cocks tenting their little atletic shorts.

patrick drags art as he takes a seat on the bed and pushes him to his knees in front of him, “haven’t gotten head in ages, and it’s your fault — so get to it.” art looks up in shock and arousal, and he obeys. when he’s tugging at patrick’s waistband he is stopped, “not so fast.”

patrick grips that golden head of curls and shoves it on his crotch. art moans, “oh fuck,” and mouths over the fabric as much as he can, “i’m sorry for being so strict, i wanted to hel— hmpph,” patrick shuts him up by pressing him closer.

the brunette coos at how his friend is nuzzling against his cock through the restriction, “shit, art, i’m so fucking hard. it hurts.” art whines and suctions right where he can see the outline of his balls, breathing in all the musk and sweat like it’s his last breath of air. he goes upwards and now suckles at the outline of his tip, it’s the first time he hears patrick whine.

they don’t know who does it but his shorts are now removed, a pair of boxers being the only separation of contact now. art gets back to it immediately, licking up the drops of precum leaking through and humming. “you’re fucking starving for it, oh god, i need more—“ patrick moans out with struggle.

when he sees art’s hand tugging his own cock he spits out a fuck me and art’s eyes roll back. he uses the grip on his curls to pull him back up, “enough. i’m taking them off, need to cum in that hot little mouth.”

art is ready to show him just how proud he is.

[poppurini]

他们是在 。。。暧昧 ！？second edition.

content. what made your friends think you’re dating him

incl. deuce, jade, jamil & gn!reader ┊ first edition

note. deepest apologies to jamil stans i really tried

deuce spade

Yeeah. It’s so obvious. The first-year can’t even look at you without growing red or sputter nonsense, it’s cute actually. They’d think it’s only a crush but when you laugh and place a reassuring hand on top of his whenever he’s nervous? Yeeah. Everyone could tell it’s the day after feelings were confessed and reciprocated!

That’s not the only factor, though. You see, Deuce and his friend group are particularly loud (cough Ace Grim Sebek). I wouldn’t be surprised if somebody overheard them screaming about Deuce finally making a move or succeeding in asking you out. Also the way they IMMEDIATELY move to sit across or pull another chair just to let you sit beside Deuce is a dead giveaway. Jack’s the only one trying not to make this a big deal.

jade leech

People actually thought you made some type of contract with Octavinelle’s mischievous dorm head and fucked up some things within it when they saw Jade Leech, the equally infamous Octavinelle student around you all the time. They thought he was collecting debt from you! You know, always around you, leaving a little snack on your desk with a note containing who knows what grave threats in it, greeting you outside when class ends, all those notorious pressuring tactics. But you look…happy? When you see him? And Jade looks? Genuine? When he smiles at you? Definitely an unfamiliar sight.

The dots finally connected when you were given a limited edition pastry on the house during that time you visited Mostro Lounge with your friends. Seriously? Free? Octavinelle doesn’t just give out free stuff without some promoting. No, that man handed it to you just like that, told you to enjoy your stay. He didn’t even thought of giving your friends one! Look look, there it is. That super mischievous and mocking smile. Directed towards them but not you, is he courting you?

jamil viper

Jamil sighs when he realises he forgot his headphones back at your place. You needed help in one of the chapters and Kalim encouraged him greatly to aid you, giving him permission to leave his side. The study session went on late, both overworked students tired, and he bid goodbye forgetting his headphones. Now he actually has to listen to Floyd’s annoyingly high pitched voice and some of Ace’s not so intelligent comments during warmup. Until a voice that rings pleasantly in his ears was heard. “Jamil! You left this at my place- hm? Oh no worries! Thanks again with helping me with homework yesterday. I’ll see you later? Bye!” before you hurriedly rushed to your own club activity.

After giving you a wave, Jamil did a sharp turn, purposely avoiding the other basketball club members’ gaze. Left it? At your place? Riiight. Jamil’s not a bad person, but his hands are so full with making sure Kalim survives that no one thinks it’s possible for him to fish out time for another or even willing to. Definitely prompted some teasing brow wiggles and elbow nudges.

[hooked-on-elvis]

I'm shocked (not really, but it's shocking to hear this anyway) to learn that at some point in life Priscilla sued Marty Lacker for a money Elvis gave him. She dropped the lawsuit when Marty counterclaimed it. Marty says "She messed with the wrong guy, but she was trying to use me as a test case against the other guys. She is a lovely person."

(1) February 25-26, 1965: Elvis signing autographs for fans in Nashville while he was in town for the recording session for the "Harum Scarum" movie soundtrack. Marty Lacker is seen by Elvis' side.

YOUTUBE - INTERVIEW WITH MARTY LACKER BY JOE KREIN PART 3 (out of 4) (go to 30:00 to listen his story about the lawsuit by Priscilla)

Now, this is just my personal comments on this but for all I've learned about Marty Lacker so far I believe he had the best interests at heart concerning Elvis. He helped EP with his music career A LOT. The way he puts it, it seems he worried with Elvis' name in the business because: 1. Marty knew EP had so much to offer (as everybody else knew), so much talent to go to waste on unworthy movies and its soundtracks and on general commercially weak songs, and 2. I bet it wasn't funny to see people mocking his friend for the kind of music and movies Elvis was making. Marty, as well as some other Memphis Mafia guys, worried about Elvis' personal satisfaction and well-being for multiple reasons... maybe not all of them being selfless but I still believe they did care about Elvis as a friend and human being even if they had hidden interests and whatever was the nature of them.

Now, all of those guys (all the people) around EP were seeing him killing himself little by little while trying to numb the disturbing thoughts in his mind and the sorrow in his soul... they were witnessing all of the sad incidents happening over the years where Elvis would end up hurting himself or almost dead. Marty was one of the few people that would go against Colonel Parker when he convinced Elvis to try something new for his career, something that would end up giving Elvis a great refreshing moment in his life, something he was hoping for deep down but somehow couldn't imagine how to make it happen himself and the ones who were in the place to advice him were too busy with their own personal agendas to care about the King's aspirations for his career.

Marty was the one to manage getting Elvis into the American Sound studio (later at the Stax too), and Marty was also the one to recommend the Sweet Inspirations to work on Elvis' concerts. Just by that alone, ALONE, could you really think Marty deserved a lawsuit for a money Priscilla didn't even need? I mean, where is the gratitude to some of the close friends of the man she allegedly says she loved?

As he said in the same interview, Marty was no saint… he wasn't a leech either. There was a time when Elvis lent him some money and Marty paid him back some time later, so Elvis was deeply touched by it because normally no one would pay him back ever! That shows something, right?

Maybe I don't know enough yet because I'm relatively a new born in the Elvis fandom, and I absolutely don't agree with every statement I've listened/read coming from Marty but in general I see him as one of the good guys from the Memphis Mafia bunch. I mean, every story has two sides. Maybe Priscilla sued Marty after being counselled to do so by some lawyer she had, like she was when she decided take Elvis to the court again in 1973, asking for more money after the divorce settlement had been set in 1972 - and by this I mean she could've been convinced to sue Marty instead of having the idea herself, which at least would make things a little less awful. But any reason she had to do that, I mean... why? There's things in life we just don't do. Even if she didn't personally liked the guy (and we know from Elvis' friends the ones she really liked were Joe Esposito and Jerry Schilling), she had to admit Marty was a great contributor to the Elvis Presley estate from which she benefits until today. I think for all Marty did for Elvis' career it's reasonable to think that any money he could've borrowed from EP would have already made its way back into the Presley's bank account in other ways. Maybe a little bit of gratitude and respect to him wouldn't hurt. I mean, I'm not totally against Priscilla... in some ways I can understand her, I really can, but not on this. Not when it comes to her greediness.

I just wonder what would Elvis think.

(2) The Presley's wedding day, February 1, 1967. Marty with Elvis and Priscilla.

FURTHER INFO: On July 17 1973, "in the papers presented to the court Priscilla's new attorney seeks to set aside the original divorce settlement." - Excerpt from 'Elvis Day by Day' by Peter Guralnick and Ernst Jorgensen. Now in addition to what has been agreed on the August 1972 divorce settlement, from the 1973 new settlement Priscilla would also receive, among other things, Spousal support, additional $625,000 (in cash) to the original $100.000 agreed and 5% of Elvis' royalties.

[dummiebrat]

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗘𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲

Teacher! Mistress!Agatha Harkness x Student! Brat!Rio Vidal x Teacher! Daddy!Nathasha Romanoff x Student! Good girl!Wanda Maximoff

Word count: 1.5K

Summary: Agatha observes the fiery clash between Natasha Romanoff and Rio, her "troublemaker" pet, in an intimate and charged setting. The evening unfolds with Natasha attempting to impose her control over Rio, only to be reminded of the unique and unbreakable bond Agatha shares with her unruly companion.

Notes: Power Dynamics, Playful Tension and Dominant Relationships.

Author's notes: You can see that the chosen gifs reflect the couple's dynamics, right?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤThe parlor was a study in old-world elegance, with dark wood paneling, ornate rugs, and a crackling fire casting flickering shadows across the room. The scent of polished mahogany and faint traces of sandalwood filled the air, an ambiance meticulously cultivated by Agatha Harkness, who valued nothing less than perfection within her domain. Tonight, however, perfection would prove elusive.

At the center of the room stood Natasha Romanoff, the epitome of control, her red hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, her tailored suit hugging her frame like a second skin. Her expression was calm, confident — too confident —as she surveyed the space with a faint, knowing smile. Beside her knelt Wanda Maximoff, her posture immaculate as ever, her wide eyes scanning the room with a mix of awe and trepidation. She wore a simple dress in soft lavender, a deliberate choice to highlight her gentle, compliant nature. Wanda was every bit the picture of devotion, a stark contrast to the chaos brewing on the other side of the room.

There, sprawled languidly across a velvet chaise like a feline predator, was Rio Vidal. Her dark curls framed her sharp features, and her crimson lipstick seemed almost deliberately provocative, a splash of rebellion in the otherwise refined setting. She twirled a wine glass between her fingers, not drinking, but merely enjoying the discomfort she caused with her deliberate indifference.

Agatha watched the interplay with an amused glint in her piercing blue eyes, standing apart from the others, her arms crossed as though she were a queen overseeing her court. Her dark gown seemed to absorb the firelight, her hair pinned back with meticulous precision. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and smooth, like honey laced with poison.

— Welcome to my home, Natasha. I trust you’re ready for the challenge you so boldly accepted?

Natasha’s smile widened, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. — Always. A brat like Rio simply needs firm boundaries and clear consequences. Isn’t that right, Wanda?

�� Yes, Daddy. — Wanda replied, her voice soft, almost reverent.

Rio rolled her eyes dramatically. — Oh, spare me. If I wanted a lecture, I’d go back to class. — She tossed her wine glass onto a nearby table with a careless clink, the sound grating in the otherwise tranquil room. — Honestly, it’s like watching paint dry with you two.

Natasha’s gaze snapped to Rio, sharp as a blade. — Is that so? Perhaps you’re overdue for a lesson in respect.

Rio smirked, unfazed. — Respect is earned, not handed out like candy, Professor. — Her tone was biting, mocking, and Natasha’s jaw tightened ever so slightly. Agatha, standing off to the side, let out a soft laugh.

— She’s quick, isn’t she? — Agatha mused. — But words are just words. Actions, Natasha. Actions speak louder.

Natasha’s lips curled into a predatory smile. — Then by all means, let’s begin.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤThe session unfolded like a battle of wills. Natasha, armed with her precision and discipline, attempted to corral Rio’s wild energy into submission. She issued commands, sharp and unyielding, her voice cutting through the room like a whip. Wanda knelt quietly nearby, her presence a stark contrast as she eagerly absorbed her Mistress’s praise for her compliance.

— Rio, come here. — Natasha commanded, her tone brooking no argument.

Rio’s response was a slow, deliberate shrug. — Nah, I’m good here, thanks.

Natasha’s expression didn’t waver, but the air in the room shifted. — That wasn’t a request. — she said, her voice as cold as steel.

Rio stood, stretching leisurely, her movements deliberately languid as she sauntered over, stopping just short of Natasha’s reach. — Better? — she asked, her tone dripping with insolence.

Wanda stiffened, her gaze darting nervously between Rio and Natasha. Agatha, meanwhile, observed the scene with a faint smile, her amusement barely concealed.

— You call that obedience? — Natasha asked, her voice low and dangerous.

— It’s my version of it. — Rio quipped, crossing her arms. — What, not good enough for you, Mistress?

The deliberate emphasis on the title was a jab, a provocation meant to unnerve. Natasha inhaled slowly, visibly restraining herself, while Agatha’s laughter broke the tension like a knife through silk.

— Well, Natasha, — Agatha drawled, — it seems Rio’s talents lie in the art of disobedience. Are you sure you can handle her?

Natasha shot her a cool glance. — I’ve handled far worse.

But as the evening wore on, Rio’s antics escalated. She interrupted Natasha’s commands with sarcastic asides, rolled her eyes at every reprimand, and even stole Wanda’s position on the floor at one point, sprawling on the rug like a cat claiming new territory. Wanda’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, her hands trembling as she looked to Natasha for guidance. Natasha’s composure, however, began to crack.

Agatha watched the unraveling with a mix of pride and anticipation. But when Rio’s provocations turned inward — directed at her —her expression shifted.

Rio leaned back against the arm of the chaise, her grin audacious. — Honestly, Mistress, — she said, addressing Agatha now, — is this really the best you could find to put me in my place? Because I’m not impressed.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Agatha moved toward Rio with slow, deliberate steps, the air around her growing heavy with an authority that was impossible to ignore. When she reached Rio, she stopped, looking down at her with an expression that was no longer amused but deadly calm.

— On your knees. — Agatha said, her voice barely above a whisper, but the command carried the weight of inevitability.

For a moment, Rio hesitated, her bravado faltering under the intensity of Agatha’s gaze. But she sank to her knees, her movements stiff, defiant to the last. Agatha crouched down to her level, leaning in so close that her breath brushed Rio’s ear as she spoke, her voice low and venomous.

— You think this is a game, Rio? You think you can play me like you play the others? Let me be very clear: you belong to me. Your defiance is amusing, but it will not protect you. Push me one step further, and I will remind you exactly why you call me Mistress. And trust me, my little brat, you will not enjoy it.

Rio’s eyes widened, her breath hitching as the words landed with the force of a hammer. Her defiance wavered, replaced by a flicker of something that bordered on fear — or perhaps it was respect. Agatha held her gaze for a moment longer before standing, her presence looming over Rio like a shadow.

Natasha, for once, was silent, her sharp tongue subdued by the sheer dominance radiating from Agatha. Even Wanda, ever the obedient one, seemed unnerved, her eyes wide as she watched the scene unfold.

— Now, — Agatha said, her voice returning to its usual calm but firm tone, — let’s see if you can manage to behave for the rest of the evening. Or shall I demonstrate exactly how I tame wild spirits?

Rio lowered her gaze, her jaw tight, the fight momentarily gone from her. — Yes, Mistress. — she whispered, her voice trembling.

The room settled into an uneasy quiet, the weight of Agatha’s authority palpable. Natasha watched with a mixture of frustration and reluctant admiration, while Wanda clung to her Mistress’s side, her small hands clutching at Natasha’s sleeve for comfort.

Agatha turned to Natasha with a sly smile. — Perhaps next time, you’ll reconsider challenging me in my own home. But don’t worry, my dear, Rio isn’t for everyone.

And with that, the parlor seemed to breathe again, though the tension lingered in the air like smoke.

[alicewrotethis]

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭﹒𝐩𝐭 𝟑

ㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪˖𓏲﹒synopsis!! bokuto tries to make sense of his feelings, little does he know you are as well  . ㅤ ˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚౨ cw!! timeskip! b. kotaro x astronomy tutor! reader, angst i think, atsumu and yachi feature, atsumu being horrible with advice    ﹒ ◠ note!!  looking forward to the next chapters!!!! ౨    wc!!  3.1k, wanted it to be longer but im splitting it..     ˚ ۪˖𓏲 mood!! series playlist

one / two / three

bokuto-san: Hey, not feeling great, so I'm gonna skip today, dont worry about me though! Pretty sure I got it for the test tmr, thanks for everything, btw. You're awesome!

You read it twice, then a third time, searching for something unsaid in the cheerful punctuation and easy words. A part of you wanted to believe him, he was the type to bounce back from anything, wasn't he? But there was a hollowness between the lines that you couldn't ignore.

You sighed, setting your phone down, but the weight in your chest stayed. It had lingered ever since you turned him down the night before, a gnawing guilt that you couldn't quite shake.

Why did it bother you so much? It was just a game, wasn't it? A volleyball match. You had better things to be doing. You didn't owe him anything beyond tutoring sessions, and those were transactional at best, right?

But the look on his face when you said no kept replaying in your mind. The slump of his shoulders, the way his grin faltered for just a second too long before he forced it back on. You'd hurt him, and you hated that. The logical part of you stood by your decision. You had a project due, and responsibilities to juggle.

You told yourself it was fine. He'd been improving steadily, and he probably did have a good grasp on the material by now. But his absence left the dorm unnervingly quiet.

Meanwhile, Bokuto rolled onto his side, his phone still clutched in his hand. The text stared back at him, the gray 'read' under his text practically mocking him. His jaw tightened as he thought about how easily you had dismissed the invitation, how easily you'd prioritized something else over him. He hated the feeling, he wanted to be as important to you as your project.

He wasn't actually sick. Not in the way you'd think. But after last night, the idea of sitting in your dorm and pretending everything was fine felt unbearable.

The rejection hadn't been harsh. You'd been kind and even offered to go next time, but it still stung in a way he hadn't expected. He wasn't used to feeling small. On the court, in life, he was the guy who lit up a room, who powered through anything with a grin and sheer determination. But hearing you say you couldn't make it to his game, that you had better things to do, though you didn't word it that way, it wasn't just a missed game, it was the hollow aching feeling of being pushed to the side.

He tossed his phone onto the bed with a soft thud, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. No matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, it hurt. It hurt more than it should have, and that gnawing emptiness didn't ease the longer he thought about it.

Bokuto sighed, staring up at the ceiling. His room felt unusually quiet, with no hum of excitement, no anticipation for Friday's game like there should have been. He hated how much this was getting to him. It wasn't like you'd done anything wrong.

What frustrated him most was that he wasn't sure why it bothered him so much, other than the obvious. He was used to people letting him down in little ways, laughing off his energy, brushing aside his invitations, saying 'maybe next time' when they really meant 'never'. But this was different. He thought you were different.

He groaned, running a hand through his hair and letting his palms rest on his cheeks, his mind replaying the way your voice had softened during your study sessions, the way your eyes lit up just slightly when he actually understood something. He thought maybe you cared, not just about the tutoring, but about him.

Bokuto's hands flew into the air dramatically and landed on the comforter with a muffled thud. His palm reached for his phone as he stared at the ceiling. The ache in his chest refused to leave, and for once, his usual methods of distracting himself, counting the specks on his ceiling, wasn't working.

With another groan he opened his contacts, his eyes landing on a name he often went to with problems, Atsumu. It wasn't because Atsumu was particularly wise (he definitely wasn't), but because Atsumu always had something to say. Usually something ridiculous enough to make Boktuo forget what he was upset about in the first place.

"Alright, Tsumu," he muttered to himself as he hit the call button, "Time to be a bro again,"

The line rang twice before Atsumu picked up with a dramatic sigh.

"Bokkun, let me guess. You've run out of hair gel, or you need me to tell ya yer the best wing spike in the world again?"

Bokuto frowned, clutching the phone tighter, "No! And that was one time!" he paused, his voice dropping slightly, "This is serious, Tsumu,"

There was a beat of silence before Atsumu said, "Alright, I'm listenin'. Hit me,"

Bokuto took a deep breath, "Okay, so... I invited my tutor, you know, the one who's been helping me to not fail, to our game, the big one, rival team, packed gym, all that stuff. I thought they'd say yes, but they said no."

Atsumu let out a low whistle, "Oof. Brutal. Did they at least give ya a reason?"

"Yeah," Bokuto muttered, "They said they had a project or something, and it's fine I get it, but... I dunno. It still sucks, you know? I thought maybe-" he cut himself off, groaning, "Never mind,"

"You thought maybe they cared as much as you do," Atsumu finished for him.

Bokuto blinked, "...Yeah,"

"Well," Atsumu began, his tone suddenly businesslike, "There's only one solution to this."

Bokuto sat up, "What is it? Should I send them flowers? Or, like, write an apology note? Or-"

"Go on a run,"

Bokuto froze, "...What?"

"A run," Atsumu repeated as if it were the most obvious solution in the world, "You're spiralin', Bokkun. Overthinkin' stuff isn't your style. Youre a doer, not a thinker. Lace up yer sneakers and run till ya can't think straight anymore. Works every time."

Bokuto frowned, his brow furrowing, "That's your advice? Go for a jog? I'm pouring my heart out here Tsumu!"

"And I'm savin' ya from yourself," Atsumu shot back, "Look, you don't have time to be mopin' over some person. We've got a big game tomorrow, yer energy's gotta be one hundred percent, or are ya plannin' to let me carry the team?"

Boktuo bristled at that, his competitive streak instantly flaring up. "Hey! I'm not gonna let you carry anything. I'm fired up for the game!"

"Then prove it," Atsumu said smugly, "Get your head back in the game, Bokkun. A run'll clear yer brain, shake out all that weird energy, and remind ya what actually matters. And what matters is crushin' our opponents, not daydreamin' about someone who isn't even showin' up."

Boktuo opened his mouth to argue but found himself deflating slightly. Atsumu wasn't entirely wrong. The game was huge, and his team was counting on him. He couldn't afford to be distracted.

"Fine," Bokuto muttered, dragging himself off his bed, "But if this doesn't work, I'm calling you back,"

Atsumu snorted, "You always call. Now go run like yer chasin' a win, Bokkun. And try not to overthink while yer at it."

Bokuto grumbled as he made his way to his closet, "Why do I even call you anymore?"

"'Cause I'm a genius," Atsumu replied smoothly, "Good luck, and don't trip!"

With an annoyed groan, Bokuto hung up and tossed his phone onto the bed with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as Atsumu's words echoed in his head, 'crushin' our opponents, not daydreamin' about someone who isn't even showin' up.' Harsh, maybe, but Atsumu had a knack for cutting through the noise.

He crouched down to rummage through his closet, pulling out a pair of running shoes. His fingers paused over the laces, thoughts swirling despite his best efforts to shut them down. Atsumu wasn't wrong, he always knew how to hit Bokuto where it hurt, but it was for his own good, right?

Still, the reminder stung. Bokuto wasn't used to this feeling, this hollow weight in his chest. Normally he was unstoppable. Bright, bold, unshakable. But the idea of someone not wanting to be part of his world, even for as something as simple as a game, gnawed at him in a way he couldn't explain. He shook his head and muttered to himself. "Stop being dramatic, Bokuto. It's just a game, and it's just one person."

But that wasn't entirely true, was it? He grabbed a hoodie and pulled it over his head, glancing at the mirror out of habit. His reflection stared back, looking just as off as he felt. It wasn't just a game, it was the game, the one he'd been hyped for since he heard about it. And it wasn't just one person, it was you. The one person who'd been patient when he struggled with concepts, who actually listened when he rambled, who filled the quiet moments with a sense of presence that made them anything but empty.

As stared at himself, Atsumu's other words came rushing back. 'Yer spiralin', Bokkun. Ovethinkin' stuff isn't your style. Yer a doer, not a thinker.'

Bokuto huffed out a laugh, half annoyed, half grateful. Atsumu had a point. Thinking wasn't his strong suit, it never had been. When something felt off, he didn't analyze it; he fixed it. When things were tough, he powered through. But what was he supposed to do now? You weren't a problem he could solve, and he couldn't just barrel into your dorm and demand that you care about the game as much as he did, care about him as much as he cared for you.

The fabric of the hoodie sat uncomfortably against his skin in the warmth of his room. Maybe that's what was bothering him the most; the realization that he couldn't make you care. He couldn't make you want to come. That had to come from you.

As he grabbed his earbuds and headed for the door, Bokuto clenched his fists, trying to shake off the tightness in his chest. Atsumu was right. A run would clear his head. He just needed to focus on the game, his team, and the roar of the crowd.

But even as he stepped outside and started jogging down the sidewalk, the cool night air brushing against his cheeks, one thought kept creeping back in. What if, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop caring about someone who didn't care back? After the test, you will be out of his life.

He picked up his pace, pushing himself harder. The rhythm of his steps pounded against the pavement, a slight contrast to the music in his ears. He didn't want to think anymore, not about the game, not about you, not about how much he'd hoped to see you in the stand, even just once, and definitely not about how he would probably never see you again.

Bokuto slowed to a stop, his breath clouding the crisp night air as he leaned forward, hands braced on his knees. His heart pounded in his chest, not just from the run but from the restless thoughts he'd been trying to outrun. He straightened, wiping his damp forehead with his sleeve, and glanced upward.

The stars stretched out endlessly, tiny lights scattered across the vast, dark canvas. He stared at them, searching for anything familiar, and then he saw it. Orion's Belt. Three stars lined up in perfect harmony, just as you'd described.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Found it," he murmured, his voice almost lost in the quiet. He could hear your voice in his head, patiently guiding him through constellations on that late-night call. He'd been so excited then, almost giddy when he'd finally spotted it. Now, the memory felt bittersweet.

He sighed, letting his gaze linger on the stars. You were under this same sky. The thought crept in uninvited, a whisper he couldn't ignore. Were you looking at the stars, too? Or were you buried in papers, completely unaware of how much space you were taking up in his mind?

Bokuto let out a small, humorless laugh, "What am I doing?" he muttered to himself. The stars didn't have answers. They just sat there, shining quietly, indifferent to the questions swirling in his chest.

The night stretched on, restless and heavy. You had tried to focus, burying yourself in the pile of notes and textbooks spread across your desk, but the words blurred together into meaningless shapes. Your thoughts kept circling back to the same place, or rather, the same person.

You sighed, dragging a hand through your hair as you stood and began pacing. You hated this feeling. It was uncomfortable, unfamiliar, like a knot you couldn't untangle. Why did it bother you so much? Why did the thought of him sitting somewhere, hurt or upset, gnaw at you in a way you couldn't ignore?

You prided yourself on being the kind of person who could deal with things on your own. You didn't need help sorting out your feelings, or at least, that's what you always told yourself. Asking for help meant admitting you didn't have everything under control, and that was something you hated doing.

But this? This felt different. No matter how hard you tried you couldn't sort through the swirling mess in your head on your own.

Your gaze drifted to your phone sitting on the nightstand. One name popped into your mind, Yachi. She was thoughtful, steady, the kind of person who could make sense of things you couldn't. You hesitated, staring at the phone as if it might leap up and solve your problem for you.

What if she thought you were being ridiculous? What if she didn't have an answer? Or worse, what if she did, and you didn't like it?

Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you considered pushing the thought away, pretending this confusion didn't exist. But the weight inside you wouldn't budge.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, you grabbed the phone and dialed.

"Hello?" Yachi's voice came through after the second ring, light and friendly, just as you expected.

"Hey," you said, sitting on the edge of your bed. Your voice sounded small. uncertain, "Can I talk to you about something?"

"Of course," she replied immediately, her tone warm and inviting. "What's going on?"

You hesitated, picking at the fabric of your blanket. "It's Bokuto-san," you admitted finally. "I think I messed up. I told him I couldn't go to his game, and now... I don't know. He hasn't come to study, and I feel..." you trailed off, struggling to find the words. "I feel bad. Really bad. But I don't know why it's bothering me this much."

Yachi hummed thoughtfully on the other end. "Why do you think it's bothering you?"

"I dont know!" you burst out, the frustration bubbling over. "I mean, I care, obviously. But it's just tutoring, right? That's all it's supposed to be. So why does it feel like... like it's more than that?"

Yachi's voice was gentle when she responded. "Maybe it's because you care about him more than you thought."

Your stomach flipped. "No," you said quickly, then hesitated. "I mean... I don't know. He's just... He's Bokuto. He's loud and annoying, and he never sits still. He's the complete opposite of me! But he's also... he's kind. And funny. And," you stopped, heat creeping up your neck as you realized where your thoughts were going. "And I like having him around."

"That's not a bad thing," Yachi said softly.

You pressed your lips together, the truth of her words making your chest feel tight. "I... I should go," you said abruptly, your voice sounding distant to even yourself.

Yachi paused for a beat, then replied, "Okay. But hey, don't overthink it too much, alright? Just... be honest with yourself."

"Yeah," you murmured, even though you weren't sure how to do that. "Thanks, Yachi."

"Anytime," she said warmly. "Goodnight."

You hung up, dropping the phone onto your bed and staring at the ceiling. The room felt too quiet now, the silence pressing in around you. Yachi's words replayed in your mind like a song stuck on loop.

'Maybe it's because you care about him more than you think'

Your chest tightened again, and you rolled onto your side, tucking your knees to your chest. Did you care about him more than you thought? That seemed impossible. It was just tutoring, wasn't it? Helping him study so he could pass a test, so he could play volleyball, so he could...

Your train of thought faltered, and you say up abruptly, shaking your head. This was ridiculous. Bokuto was loud, chaotic, the kind of person who threw you off balance without even trying. You couldn't possibly-

But then why did the thought of him now showing up tonight feel like something was missing? Why did you keep picturing the way his face fell when you told him no, or the excitement in his voice when he'd invited you to the game?

Your gaze drifted to the window, where the night sky stretched endlessly. Stars glittered against the inky blackness, their light steady and unwavering. Orion's Belt caught your eye, its familiar formation somehow comforting.

You leaned your forehead against the cool glass, staring at the constellation. Somewhere under the same sky, Bokuto was out there. Maybe he was looking at these same stars, his thoughts as tangled as yours. The image made your chest ache, a strange mix of longing and uncertainty.

What would he think if he knew how much space he was taking up in your head right now?

The thought of him being hurt by your rejection crept in again, sharp and unwelcome. You hadn't meant to hurt him. You didn't even know why you'd said no in the first place other than your excuse. Maybe it was fear, fear of getting closer, fear of caring too much, fear of letting someone like him, someone so open and bright, into the quieter corners of your life.

But that fear hadn't stopped you from caring. It hadn't stopped you from missing him tonight or from wondering if you'd made a mistake.

You sighed, your breath fogging up the glass. The stars blurred for a moment, and you wiped the fog away, your fingers trailing against the cool surface.

'Maybe it's because you care about him more than you thought'

Yachi's words echoed again, and this time, you didn't push them away.

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