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clawsdevour · 6 months ago

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victory reward

wc: 2.1k content warning: post-time skip, established relationship, ushijima x reader, smut, hinting towards a sex marathon, mention of semen retention, size kink, cream pie, not proofread

び˚ˎ 。

The final sound of the spike that your husband, Ushijima Wakatoshi, landed on the volleyball court secured the win for Japan in the Paris Olympics volleyball game. The cheering after Japan’s winning still rang in your ears when you left to go backstage in order to meet with Ushijima when he step foot off the blazing court.

“Toshi!! Right here!” Screaming against all of the sounds that resonated in the crowded hallway to get his attention. His stone cold eyes meet yours and softened immediately when he made his way to your direction. The closer he stepped towards you, his warm welcoming arms opened for a big hug despite being drenched in sweat.

“Hey love, did you watch me play all day?” Falling into his strong arms that held you closer to him, a faint smile spreading on his lips as you nod into his chest. The crowds’ are walking around you two while you quickly chatted in place about the match that just finished.

Leaving the big and roaring venue, the cold air hits your face once you step foot outside. Your arm clings with his for warmth, walking alongside him trying to not get caught up with the other people who strolled by. You’re praising him for his skills and the last strike he landed on court that brought Japan to it’s next match in the Olympics. He’s smiling to himself, content with the victory and the fact he now knows that you came and watched him play the whole time.

“When we get back to our hotel, are you gonna reward me?” Ushijima peers down to see your awestruck face frozen in surprise due to his silly attempt at hinting you two to do something suggestive. Ushijima’s not the type to ask for intercourse often, you’d have to pounce on him and have a whole build up to get to the tip of it because of how stern and naive he could be. Not to mention, his busy schedule to keep his volleyball skills and physique in check.

“Haha, Toshi would you even take my reward if I gave it to you?” Giggling to play with him a bit, half serious. He’s putting back on his game face as his piercing eyes scream out a simple Yes which was all you needed to know. He was serious, he must’ve been waiting for a long time to be buried in you once more.

The moment you enter and close your hotel door was the moment where his big silhouette carried and dropped you onto the springy and plush king sized bed. Ushijima’s hands are placed by your ears, trapping you in position underneath his heavy and athletic frame.

Wrapping your hands around his head as he leaned into you to share an intimate kiss on the lips. He couldn’t wait and be patient any longer, his tongue pokes through to completely take over the inside of your mouth. Ushijima roughly dominates the kiss by massaging his tongue around yours while you continuously moaned into the heated gesture. At some point he had to pull away to let you both breathe a little.

Your lips were barely touching while you breathed in each others warm air, a bit dizzy from that intoxicating kiss. His honest and dark olive eyes couldn’t keep off of your slightly swollen reddened lips as he went in for another one. Tracing the shape of your lips with the tip of his tongue, you watched through his long fluttering lashes. Sucking on your bottom lip, eager for your tongue to slip into his mouth as you felt his thick fingers caress the side of your face.

“I’m so.. Hard right now, it hurts. I haven’t let it out in so long.” Ushijima’s hot and raspy voice whispered in your ear. Tilting your head to meet his vulnerable face, his hand reaches for yours so he could lead you to feel what’s in between his tight shorts. Wow, his bulge was real big and stiff. You haven’t fucked with your husband in a month or two due to his intensive training schedule. Of course, he hasn’t let out any of his steam while being so caught up practicing to play for the Olympics.

“You could let it all out in me Toshi,” bringing his hand down your waistband to feel the wetness at the bottom of your underwear. His eyes slightly widened at the dampness. Ushijima brings his lips down to your neck to plant a sloppy kiss as his fingers rubbed along your clothed slit.

“I love you.” Ushijima shuffles up on his knees to take off his suffocating shirt that clung to him for dear life to reveal his rippling and muscular figure. Your fingers reached to linger across his sculpted torso trying to reel him in as he leaned back down towards you, placing hands on his broad shoulders.

“I love you too..” Your lustful eyes watched as he makes his way up your shirt, essentially pushing up your bra to reveal your stiff and perky nipples due to being released from their cage. Ushijima’s warm tongue caressing your tit causes you to push your head back into the soft pillow, the more he sucked and licked across your sensitive nip the more your head sank down. His other hand fondled with your unoccupied breast, teasing and playing with it as his eyes remained focused on your reactions.

Shortly after, his hands bring themselves down towards your hips, gradually bringing his swollen lips down with it. Ushijima’s working down your pants and underwear. You sit up to help him, also taking off your shirt and bra as you sat naked in front of him, with a slightly red hue flushed across your face.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe my job kept me away from you for so long, I’m sorry..” Ushijima’s parting your legs open like the red sea as you tried to resist out of humiliation. Of course, losing to his powerful and sturdy hands that kept you apart. His dark olive orbs lit up seeing your cunt already wet with your slick from all the kissing and slight nipple play.

Ushijima dives in with his tongue that draws steady circles over your little bundle of nerves, causing you to let out a whimper of shock. The foreign sensation of his tongue on your clit felt so good, your locked legs squirmed despite his grasp on the back of your thighs. The skin like dough seeping out of his hands while he holds you up. Your mouth parting and opening as your moans grew louder, whenever you call out his name in that lewd state he doesn’t hold back. Your hands were buried into his hair, pushing his face closer to your pussy. He’s adding in a thick finger or two inside to curl into your sweet spot to help prep you for his cock. He knows he’s gonna have to use more than two fingers, so he snuck in another one to stretch you out. Your legs are twitching like crazy as you squirmed and forced his head closer. His tongue swirls around in your plush hole once more, driving you to your spinning orgasm as he slurps up all of your remaining juices before his finishing course.

He unlatches his mouth from your dripping cunt as you lay limpless trying to regain your composure, watching him slide his shorts and boxers down to reveal his massive raging erection that dripped with precum. Your arms help you up as you saw him stroke it a few times as he grunted before laying it on your pussy.

“Toshi, is it gonna fit..?” You’re looking at him with a bit of fear in your eyes at his big and girthy length that’s currently sitting on your clit. He’s guiding his mad red tip to glide around on your slit, collecting the juices you secretated.

“I’ll make it fit.” Ushijima’s determined and believes it’ll all fit in like always even though you’re always a bit worried. Everytime you fuck it ends up like this, but he’s always somehow balls deep inside your plush walls that clung onto him. You knew that and always trusted him during the whole process of just putting it in. You’re laying down flat on your back as he’s towering over you once again. Feeling his tip find and prob at the entrance of your hole, Ushijima’s looking for your approval as you nod at him to stick it in.

There goes the first part, your entrance expands to take in his circumference. He’s slowly pushing it in, trying to not cause any more discomfort than his cock is already putting you in. the pain from stretching you out starts to kick in when you feel the stabbing sensation. Your deathenly grip on his shoulders increases, causing crescent marks to appear on his smooth skin whenever you had to readjust your hand placement.

“You okay? It’s just about in.” Ushijima’s grunting from the tight heated walls that held his cock, making it feel like it’s about to snap in half at any given moment. The waves of the killer stinging sensation began to increase when he started to slide out. It was like a metal fork scratching a chalkboard inside. Shoving it back was even more painful even though it was slightly starting to mix with pleasure that’ll soon start to wash over and fill your body.

Your body’s producing tears as a natural reaction towards the affliction, your loving husband’s wiping them off your face with his thumb while peppering you kisses all over. The slow but earth shattering damage that his cock implies on your clenching walls continued its attempt at stimulating you. Throwing your arms over his head, bringing him closer to your tearstained eyes. Your cunt takes the form of his size the more he moved in and out of you, loosening your grip on his cock.

“It feels good Toshi, you can go faster..” sobbing in between whines as waves of pleasure started to take over your body. Nodding his head as he grunted, his pace began to increase from a turtle’s pace to making you arch your back as you held onto him with all your might. His eyes averted to your breasts enjoying each bounce as he started to thrust even more.

The amount of inaudible sounds coming from your mouth and the squelching from below, he can’t take it anymore it’s been far too long. Ushijima’s uneven breathing came to a pause whenever your gummy walls clenched, eventually he came inside. Filling you to the brim even when he thought he emptied his load in you. Taking it out, his white goo continued to spray onto your breasts and stomach as some of it started to drip out of your cunt.

“Shit, there’s so much ha.” He’s trying to jerk it all out before taking on another round with you. When he thought he was done, it just started to leak out from his tip. Biting his lip as he continues to finish, before putting your legs up into a mating press.

Your knees pressed against the sticky semen on your chest as he’s pushing your ankles further down, exposing all of your pussy to him. You’re dripping with his cum that keeps trailing out of your cunt. Feeling his girth press against you again, he’s scooping his creamy white substance onto his cock before smoothly attempting to slide back in with a moan of relief.

Your head tilts back from all the stimulation as you’re grabbing onto the sheets. His cock is able to plummet and destroy your insides even more with his position that made your body more sensitive with how much deeper he can reach. All you can do is let out your loud continuous moans and praises as you take all of his length again and again. His unbreakable stamina turns your head into a groggy mess as you try to keep conscious throughout his heavy, hard poundings. Ushijima notices your change in reaction when as you try to keep up with his momentum and came to a complete stop.

“Hey, you okay? Do you need to take a break or drink some water?” Your eyes focus on him from between your legs. His words melt into your ears now that the sounds of flesh on flesh came to a halt. All you could hear was the heavy breathing ringing in your ears.

You shake your head ‘No,’ knowing you’ll have to at some point. All you could think about what how it’s gonna be a long night to celebrate.

masterlist here

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writerstruggle · 6 months ago

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us <3

#ao3 memes #ao3 funny #ao3 #reader stuff #reader struggles #tumblr writers #writer humor #writer struggles #fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #bucky barnes x reader #billy butcher x reader #homelander x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simone biles #paris 2024 #olympics

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moonstruckme · 6 months ago

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Thawing Out

summary: You and Sirius are in dire need of a new coach just weeks before the Olympics. Remus is a former figure skating prodigy forced to retire after a career-ending injury. Though it's not smooth skating right away, those stiff Olympic village beds are dying to be broken in.

collab with @ellecdc

cw: modern au, chronic pain

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Remus still wakes before dark every morning. It’s automatic, an urgency and excitement that thrums through him like an old instinct, born from years of his alarm clock rousing him at this time. The rink is always at its best right now, when they’ve just finished resurfacing the ice and no one else is around. It was Remus’ favorite time to practice.

Now, he has a new reason to get up. His hip clicks as he does it, so he starts his day with a couple of proactive painkillers. If he really wanted to be proactive he would stretch like he’s supposed to, but there’s no time and Remus doesn’t feel like it. He’ll pay his toll for the negligence later.

The webpage of his Airbnb boasted a five-minute walk to the rink, but with his hip it takes Remus seven. It’s like an odd sort of muscle memory, an old routine from another life that feels as bitter as it does comfortable. He heads out early to give himself some cushion. The streets are empty but for bakers and baristas, the first hints of dawn tinging the sky a deep blue. When he turns a corner and the rink comes into view, the absence of his bag hanging from his shoulder is a phantom ache.

The front doors are locked but the side one staff uses isn’t, the Zamboni driver already inside. Remus lets himself in, makes a cup of tea from the hot water dispenser they leave out when concessions are closed, plants himself on a bench, and waits.

And waits.

Remus has nearly nodded off when two pairs of shoes come bounding up to him. Well, one pair bounds. The other drags.

“Hi, sorry we’re late.” You’re breathless and hauling a sullen-looking boy along behind you by the hand, but you manage a smile when Remus looks up at you. “I had to run over and get him out of bed. It’s good to meet you!”

You hold out your untethered hand. Remus might normally stand to take it, but he no longer feels like doing you the courtesy. Your grip is firm and warm.

“You were supposed to be here at six,” he says.

You wince. “I know. Sorry, Sirius is really not a morning person.”

Remus thinks that he might put more stock into your apologies if you looked a tad more contrite. As it is, your countenance is almost cheery, a fizzy eagerness about you as you look between him and the ice like you can’t wait to get out on it.

In stark contrast, the ill-tempered boy behind you seems not to have a clue where he is. He looks rumpled and disoriented, squinting in the rink’s fluorescent light.

“Then why didn’t you pick another time?” Remus asks.

He hadn’t realized he was still looking at Sirius, or that the other boy could talk, so it’s a surprise when he answers. “Wasn’t my bloody idea.”

By the way you grin, Remus wonders if you’ve even heard the obvious bitterness in your partner’s tone, or whether it’s gone straight over your head.

“I like the rink better early,” you explain. “No one else ever comes before the hockey practice starts at nine, and they’ll have just finished resurfacing the ice.”

Begrudgingly, Remus nods. “I always preferred it about now, too.”

He realizes immediately that his agreement was a mistake, because your smile grows into something far too brilliant for the early hour. Christ, what has he gotten himself into? There’s you, starry-eyed and effervescing all over the place, and your partner, who looks more inclined to fall asleep on your shoulder than put on his skates.

And this is the pair skating duo Remus is supposed to take to the Olympics.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Watch that back foot!” Remus shouts across the ice.

Sirius doesn’t look happy about it, but he corrects the placement of his skate, transitioning smoothly into the next synced turn.

“Good,” Remus murmurs to himself.

Once Sirius got out on the ice and woke up a bit, he was good. He skates with the technical proficiency of someone who’s been in the sport since before they started primary school, and the intuitive artistry of someone who loves it. You’re much the same, though your virtuosity and obvious competence are consistently undercut by hesitation, the grace of your movements interrupted when you second-guess yourself. But these—technical prowess paired with devotion—are the basics of what makes a good figure skater. You’ll have to be flawless if you want to do well at the Olympics.

And Remus has found many flaws.

“No, no—shit!” Remus stands as you fall out of your jump again, catching yourself on your forearms. “You’re still under-rotating! Come on!”

Sirius snarls a quick “Hey!” over his shoulder before turning his back on Remus, going to help you up. He speaks to you quietly, checking you over as you stand. Remus seethes.

He has no clue why he’s been called out here to coach a pair. Remus doesn’t know pairs, has never been a part of one. He was a solo skater. And frankly, it makes him wary that what’s supposed to be the best skating pair in Britain has asked him, a former solo skater who’s been isolated from the figure skating community in general for the past two years, to coach them. But Remus does know figure skating. And he knows when skaters are making stupid mistakes behind their skill level.

“What aren’t you understanding?” asks Remus as you skate back to the edge of the rink. He really wants to know. “It’s simple. You can do this.” He knows he could have. As easy as breathing, and he would kill to have the chance again.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Sirius’ glare is sharp as knives. He steps off the ice before you can, positioning himself between you and Remus. Your lips purse with a knowing sort of apprehension.

“Sirius…”

“No, you don’t talk to her like that,” Sirius spits. “It was a tiny mistake.”

Remus raises his eyebrows, incredulous. “I’m trying to help her! It was a giant mistake, with a simple fix. You ought to be telling her the same, unless you’re okay with your partner snapping her ankle weeks out from competition.”

“None of that means you get to fucking yell at her! Who do you think you are?”

“Okay—”

“I’m her coach,” says Remus, voice rising, “and—”

“Then coach her! Maybe if you’d give some actual fucking feedback instead of just nitpicking—”

“Okay!” Your shout cuts through the space, echoing in the empty rink and silencing the other two. “That’s enough.”

You haul Sirius back by his shoulder. Your grip doesn’t look severe enough to move him, but he goes, stepping back to your side. His eyes never leave Remus’.

Your own gaze jumps between both boys, that same spark he’d seen in you earlier burning with a different light.

“Let’s call it for today,” you say firmly. “Okay? We’ll try again tomorrow.”

Neither boy speaks, though Remus nods. It seems to be taking all of Sirius’ willpower to bite his tongue. He gets the impression it isn’t something he succeeds at often, so Remus isn’t ashamed to say that it brings him a perverse sort of joy to see it now. His tiny bit of smugness fizzles out, though, when your eyes land on him. There’s something desolate in your expression that’s a salient deviation from how you’d looked at him before. Remus has the sinking feeling that he’s disappointed you. It’s more distressing than he can account for.

“We’ll be here on time tomorrow,” you say in that same steady tone. “And my jump, I’ll work on it.”

Remus nods again. You return it, and when you turn to leave, you drag Sirius after you by his shirtsleeve, picking up your bags along your way. Remus’ mouth feels dry. His lips are chapped, his fingertips hurt from the cold, and the sight of your skates sinking into the rubbery floor makes his hip ache terribly.

It’s only once you’re nearly out of earshot that he manages to mumble, “Thank you.”

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babyleostuff · 7 months ago

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── OLYMPICS MASTERLIST

[🌊] DISCIPLINE: SWIMMING

PAIRING: swimmer!mingyu x swimmer!fem reader GENRE: fluff, friends to lovers(ish), idiots that doesn't realise the other one is in love with them too, mingyu is a tease but also down bad WARNINGS: the reader gets hurt (hits her head, nothing too descriptive), mingyu is a hottie WORD COUNT: 3k

SYNOPSIS: what will it take for you and mingyu to finally understand that you're literally meant to be?

natalia's note: @wonijinjin the broad back and bulging biceps are for you

“i can’t do this anymore.”

mingyu's words hit you like a speeding train.

you quickly lifted your head from where you were looking at your fingers splashing the water, facing your best friend.

“w-what?” you asked, horrified. “what do you mean?”

his shoulders dropped, causing the water to ripple around your bodies, and you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you wouldn’t like what he was about to say next.

“i can’t do this anymore. i can’t watch you lose again and again,” he sighed, and dived under the red lane line, emerging a second later right next to you. “it’s,” he took a breath, “heartbreaking.”

with how close he was to you now you didn’t have a choice but to look up, which was stupid because come on - you were in the water. a wole ass swimming pool. like, he could literally submerge himself a little bit more and you’d be eye level, but no. kim mingyu had to flash everyone in the damn room with his godly sculptured chest and shoulders.

you mentally scolded yourself for losing the last ounces of your dignity over a man, because why was it so hard for you to peel your eyes off his pecs? and a quiet voice inside your head was telling you that mingyu didn’t do this by accident - he knew how it affected you. but it shouldn’t. you were best friends after all.

and best friends didn’t look at each other’s chests. and wide shoulders. and bulging biceps.

“then stop being such a bitch, kim mingyu,” you cleared your throat, suddenly very interested in the purple “paris 2024” banners over his head. “if it’s breaking your heart then that’s your problem, not mine.”

mingyu rolled his eyes, and quickly lifted his hand to splash water at you, making you shriek. what a shame god didn’t bless you with quicker reflexes, so you could cover your eyes at least. it was funny how people used to tell your coach that it would be for the best to split your training sessions because you didn’t get on well with each other, while in reality you got on well a bit too much.

“uh, excuse moi?” you cringed at his horrible attempt to speak french, “you’re calling the three time world champion and two time olympic gold medalist a bitch?” he put his hand over his heart.

“then why don’t you want to race with me anymore?” you practically whined. “are you afraid of getting beaten by a girl? would that do damage to your reputation in the olympic village?” you giggled at his unamused stare. “i’m sure the gymnasts would be very disappointed to find out you’re not as big and strong as they thought,” you pouted at him, mockingly.

“i told you baby, i don’t want to see you lose again, simple as that” mingyu put his hand on your shoulder. “can’t you race against ava or liv?”

you weren’t sure if it was better to go underwater or to call for the medics at this point. this infuriatingly hot man just called you baby for god’s sake and he had his hand placed so close to your neck it felt as if he was cradling it. luckly you could blame the cold water for your shivering. the worst part - you were 99% sure you saw him make out with alexa before going to paris, so all of the sweet words and gentle touches were platonic.

they meant nothing.

which… were you even surprised? the hottest guy making out with the hottest girl on the team. both multiple champions. both insanely talented.

still, you wouldn’t give up, and that definitely wasn’t because of your delusions that you could pull the hottest and the best swimmer on the continent, but because you didn’t want to lose your best friend.

“you’re not fooling me, kim mingyu. i think you’re just scared of me beating you.”

he scoffed, and finally lowered himself into the water. thank heavens. “okay then. what do you say about one last race to finish this training off?” mingyu said, and sent you a challenging look, which he knew would rile you up even more.

“deal,” you shook his extended hand. “but don’t come crying to me when you lose.”

“as you wish, my queen,” he bowed his head, and snickered. “but-,”

“no buts,” you cut him off.

“ah, ah,” he pointed a finger at you. “if you lose you have to take a bath in the seine.”

sometimes you wondered why exactly you had a crush on him because stuff like these reminded you he was only a man. more like a man-child, but that was if you wanted to be nitpicky.

“that’s illegal, you moron.”

you swore you’d drown him one of these days.

with the goggles over your eyes you swam under the lane line to have a whole lane for yourself, because there was no way you’d fit in one lane with mingyu.

“okay champ, let’s see-,” suddenly you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“je suis désolé, mais tu dois sortir de l'eau. les préparatifs pour la course vont bientôt commencer,” one of the volunteers was crouching by the edge of the pool with his hand outstretched in your direction.

“uh,” you shot mingyu a quick look, “i’m sorry, je ne comprends pas.” i don’t understand. the only french you managed to learn before coming to paris, which you figured would come in handy, and as it turned out - it did. a point for you.

“the competition,” the guy scratched the back of his neck, clearly trying to find the right words. “begin soon.”

“do you want us to get out of the pool?” mingyu asked, pointing at him and you and then the outside of the pool.

“yes, yes,” the volunteer nodded quickly.

well, you could wave your race bye bye.

maybe the universe didn’t want you and mingyu together, maybe all you were destined to be was friends? besides, one silly race wouldn’t make a difference, if anything, it would probably lead to you pulling a muscle, which would mean a big disaster with your eliminations right around the corner.

your fate was to end up alone for the rest of your life, crying over a guy you could never have. typical.

“shit,” mingyu sighed, taking off his goggles. “i really wanted to race you.”

you sent him a quick smile, dismissing his teasing tone. the quicker you’d realise this wouldn’t work out the better for your poor heart.

“yeah, that’s a bummer,” you said, grabbing onto the edge of the pool to pull yourself up.

mingyu grinded his teeth and side eyed the volunteer. if it weren't for the dozens of people around you who were clearly starting to prepare for the race, he would have thrown the guy into the water with his own bare hands.

“thanks for being a cockblock, dude.”

well, not literally, but this had to be the first time mingyu managed to talk to you without stuttering every other word and not acting that embarrassing. but no. someone had to sweep in and take this away from him.

“be careful,” mingyu ran a hand over his face, and looked over to you, “the tiles might be slippery.”

“you don’t say,” you said, and shot him a glare. “im not that-.”

but before you could finish your sentence one of your hands slipped and you lost the grip, splashing back into the pool.

“hey, hey,” mingyu immediately swam up to you, closing the gap between your bodies in seconds. “are you okay?” he put his arm around your waist, turning you around in his grip so you’d face him.

shit.

“did you hit your head?” he asked quickly, taking off your cap. fuck, mingyu felt his lunch creeping back into his throat. if anything happened to you…

“mhm, i think so,” you answered, disoriented. your vision was clearly unsteady and you were shaking in his embrace, though he didn’t know if that was due to the cold water or the hit.

“fuck,” he muttered, running his hand gently over your head to look for any cuts or bruises. “we need to get you out of the water.”

you nodded your head slowly, but that was a bad call, because it only made you more nauseous and made your vision even worse.

“hey, don’t move. put your other arm around my neck and hold onto me,” mingyu said.

“but i’m heavy.”

“shut it or i’ll leave you here,” mingyu grumbled, and tightened his hold around you.

with ease, as if he was born in the water, mingyu managed to get you to the edge of the pool with ladders, and called for help.

“i’m such a loser,” you mumbled, resting your head against his shoulder. “almost passing out in the middle of an olympic swimming pool,” you let out a bitter laugh, before whimpering. maybe making bad jokes right after almost cracking your skull open wasn’t a good idea.

mingyu didn’t say anything but you could feel his body tense.

“she hit her head on the tiles,” he said once the medics made their way over to you.

they quickly helped him get you out of the water without causing you more pain and laid you on the stretcher. the medics whispered something between them, or maybe you were just so out of it that you couldn’t understand what they were saying, but you could clearly make out mingyu’s voice in between.

suddenly, you felt as if you were being lifted off the ground, but your blurry vision made it impossible for you to see what exactly was going on.

“min-mingyu?” you called out.

“i’m here baby, don’t worry,” mingyu said, and reached for your hand, grasping it tightly so you’d know he was really right there next to you.

“stop calling me that,” you said, your tone bossy as usual.

“stop calling you what?” mingyu couldn’t help but giggle when he heard you scoff. good, that meant you weren’t that badly hurt.

“baby.”

“what if i don’t want to?” he asked, and ran a thumb over the back of your hand, smiling to himself when he felt your fingers wrap tighter around his.

you shook your head, or at least you tried to. “then i’ll race you and if i win you’ll stop.”

“you know i won’t let that happen,” he said softly.

“stop messing with my heart, kim mingyu.”

a champion, an olympics medalist, a man made of steel, and still, mingyu felt like he was melting under your gaze. your big eyes looking up at him, your soft lips parted in a slight gasp, your gentle fingers holding onto him for dear life…

“i won’t,” he shook his head. “not until you stop messing with mine.”

as it turned out, luckily for you, the impact didn’t cause much damage. “it caused panic more than anything else,” the doctor said.

“so i’ll be able to race on monday, right?” you asked, twisting the rings around your fingers nervously. the olympics were something you sacrificed your whole life for - you couldn’t remember the last time you slept in, the last time you ate dinner with your family, the last time you had time for yourself, and if all of that would go to waste because of a stupid mistake… you didn’t know what you’d do.

“don’t worry, you’ll be just fine for the race. i think your boyfriend overreacted a bit out there,” the doctor laughed. “maybe more than a bit.”

you almost choked on the pills you were swallowing, your face burning with heat. the doctor feeding into your delusions was a big no no, and you definitely did not need that right now.

“you might want to text him though, he was sitting outside the whole time we were running tests. had to send him back to the village,” he sighed, “he looked like a kicked puppy.”

that was dangerous, and you needed to get out of there quickly.

mingyu, on the other hand, couldn’t stop worrying. after the doctor sent him off, he didn’t really know what to do with himself, and he definitely didn’t know how he ended up sitting in front of the door to your room.

god, he was being so pathetic. instead of telling you how and what he felt, he was acting like a lame highschooler trying to impress you with what? being a faster swimmer? mingyu was never good at flirting but this had to be his lowest low.

„gyu? what are you doing here?” his head shot up, and there you were - safe and sound. no bandages, nothing. for the first time since he got out of that damn swimming pool he took in a deep, proper breath.

“the doctor he, um…,”

“i know.”

“you know?”

“i know,” you nodded. why did he look so nervous all of a sudden? “shouldn’t you be at the gym? preparing for tomorrow?”

right. the race.

“i probably should,” more than “probably” to be honest. your trainer would most likely have killed him already if not for the fact that he was the best swimmer on the team. “but i needed to know that you were okay.”

“you could’ve just texted, you know,” you said. why was he being so… un-mingyu?

he shook his head, and stood up to his full 6 feet 2. “let me put it this way,” he took a step towards you, “i needed to see if you were okay.”

was he really about to risk your whole friendship? all this time spent on getting to know you, your likes and dislikes, what annoyed you and how he could push your buttons to see that bright smile on your face that always made his day a bit better. he didn’t want to lose all of that.

but… mingyu felt his hands reaching out for you on their own to make sure that you weren’t in pain anymore, to kiss any bump or scratch to make it better, to hold you close to his chest this evening and keep you safe from all the wet tiles.

“listen,” he scratched the back of his neck. he needed to do something with his hands. “i have to tell you one thing, and please just let me say it because i don’t think i’ll have enough courage to say it ever again.”

you nodded your head, your gaze slightly confused.

it was now or never.

“okay, so i know we’re technically only friends from work, but not really since we hang out otherwise, and we’ve known each other for how long now? three years? and that’s great, i love training with you, and going to competitions with you, and hanging out with you, but lately… or not lately, really. for a long time-,”

„mingyu,” you sighed, but the boy kept on rambling. „min,” you tried again, to no avail. „gyu!”

finally, the man in front of you fell silent, looking at you with eyes wide and mouth agape.

“i,” you took a deep breath. you knew exactly where this was going. „i can’t do this right now,” you said, and watched the spark in mingyu’s eyes die out. “with what happened today, and the eliminations tomorrow… i just can’t deal with this right now,” god, this broke your heart. “i need some rest, and i need some sleep,” you added. “besides, i also have the relay tomorrow, so i need to focus. this is not only about me, but about the girls. i can’t let them down.”

mingyu’s heart dropped. if he knew this would end like this, then why was he feeling so disappointed? but he couldn’t be mad at you, no. it wasn’t your fault you weren’t feeling the same, and it definitely wasn’t your fault for wanting some rest. the olympics meant so much to you, and he knew how excited you were for them - he wouldn’t take that happiness away from you.

„of-of course,” mingyu said, though his voice, his body language, his gaze - his everything, screamed anything but „of course”. he nodded his head and shrugged. „i’ll see you later then.”

you quickly grabbed his arm before he could turn around. „gyu,” you said. „i can’t deal with this now, but i never said i couldn’t deal with this ever.”

he was so cute, you couldn’t help but hide your smile behind your hand. with slightly dishevelled hair (probably from running his fingers through them too much), un-matching shirt and pants, which you were sure were from last season, and his mingyu smile that showed off his canines… you’d have to be stupid and blind not to have a massive crush on this man.

„r-really?”

you nodded your head.

“maybe we can talk about this tomorrow?” you said, and slid your hand down his arm to his hand. “after the eliminations?”

mingyu looked down wide-eyed at your hand holding his. was this really happening? maybe he was the one to hit his head? his poor heart and fuzzy brain couldn’t actually believe that the girl he had been pining after for god knows how long was actually saying that… that she liked him back? huh, if this was a dream he hoped he’d never wake up.

“yes,” he breathed. “we can do that.”

“great,” you smiled, and mingyu felt his heart skip a beat. “you’ll be watching me tomorrow, right?”

“you know i will,” mingyu said, squeezing your hand, and this - your hand in his - this felt right. this was right, and this was how it was always supposed to be. “i always do.”

and then he did something that almost knocked you off your feet.

he quickly closed the gap between you, pushing your body gently against the door behind you, and placed a soft peck on your cheek. you almost didn’t notice how his strong arm had snuck around you, holding your waist in a featherlight touch that didn’t quite match his strong hands and big biceps, or how the other one cradled the side of your face, and how his thumb stroked your cheek. almost.

and it was only a kiss on the cheek.

“good luck, baby.”

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yuwuta · 8 months ago

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olympics coming up…… athlete aus on the mind….. satoru as a swimmer….. unreasonably large wingspan…. huge hands..... thinks “official” competitions and tournaments are boring because he can’t use the goofy purple googly eyes goggles he likes to practice in…… practices at ungodly hours solely because he likes when the pool is empty because that means you’ll dip your feet in at the edge and be there to greet him with a kiss when he’s finished his laps….. they bring up the stats board and it’s just his name ten times before the next fastest person and he could still lap them, and even tho he’ll always put so much pressure on himself to be the best, it’s worth it to have you hold his face and tell him you’re proud of him... he’s gotten so much merch from events and sponsorships and he used to think they just created clutter but that all changes when you start to wear his clothes (esp the ones with his name on it… he’s not proud to admit that does Something to him)…. always looks up to the stands when he finishes a race and if he knows you’re not there, he looks right at the camera, draws an infinity sign with his fingers, and blows a kiss (which, some commentators routinely call “unsportsmanlike conduct” but he doesn’t care, and always, publicly says he’ll pay the fees if it means blowing a kiss to his girl at home)

#satoru w/ wet hair coming out of the pool......... GOD .#he could be a professional swimmer and he still gets in the bathtub and is like babe look I'm a mermaid like yeah dude.. u might be #he's so k/atie l/edecky coded... they bring up the world stats and his name name 24 times before the next fastest time #like wdym you're faster than yourself 23 times before somebody else is next in line.........#he also gets brand sponsorships and is on set for photoshoots/campaigns and he's always like wait can I have one these for my gf #and the crew thinks its so sweet they give him 10 extra #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jjk smut #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #hm.... nanami? idk where tho... maybe judo I think that's an olympic sport #salaryman to gold medalist lore goes crazy omg #he started bc he was stressed at work at some random gym and the coach there was like hold on... and now he's a gold medalist #yuuta does something kinda nerdy looking like the javelin but he's weirdly good at it LOLLLL #OR TENNIS!#megumi I HAVE to push my archery agenda #but like. toji/gojo definitely caught him throwing rocks or something as a kid and being emo #and they were like wait you've got good aim ... kinda scary #and now he's at the olympics... wild #whatever the case is yuuji didn't Actually want to play a sport #yuuji in track and field... honestly maybe even gymnastics... NO! I GOT IT! VOLLEYBALL!.... maybe...#but it turned out to be a way to make steady money to support his grandpa #and then it just.. spiraled into him getting scouted and then training and now he's a world champion :((((#💌#olympics au

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romana-after-dark · 6 months ago

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Keep Running, Little Bunny!

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Masterlist

Buy Me A Coffee : Kofi : Go Fund Me

Summary: Logan takes you, but gives you a chance to escape... what isn't he telling you?

Warnings: NON CON DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Logan is a masochist and a bit of a sadist but def more into the pain. Feral!Logan, primal kink, THIS IS NON NON, READER AND LOGAN GET SLICED UP! I'm not listing everything here, just please read with caution! Physical and sexual violence! Somno!

Immersivity: Reader is fem, afab, able bodied

A/N: first time writing Logan!!! Im obssed with him after deadpool wolverine but the only other Wolverine movie ive seen was that really bad one in like japan or something lmfao. I do wanna watch them all now (Oscar Isaac is in apocalypse!) This may not be the most correct but I'm trying. Lemme know if you wan more Logan!

Divider by @xxbimbobunnyxx

Im late but I wanted to do the manspreading for the manspreading olympics by @toxicanonymity

"You're a hard girl to get a hold of, princess."

Logan is sitting across from the bed you've woken up in, in a chair with his legs spread wide. You can see the bulge in his pants from how he touched you, caressing your sleeping body as you slowly woke up from whatever you were given. His hands slid up your loose shorts, a single finger slipping in and out of your hole, making sure the first words you woke up to were, "Are you always this wet?" with his hot breath fluttering on your skin.

Slowly, the memories began to come to you: how you fought and kicked and screamed as Logan tried to drag you away, him shoving the chloroformed rag in your mouth until you passed out gagging...

Now here you were, watching him as he palmed his hardness in front of you.

"i thought X-men were good guys." You spit, arms crossed over your chest as you watch him touch himself.

He shrugs with a little smirk on the right side of his face. "I wouldn't call myself a good guy. Never have. Saving the world is one thing... but I think I'm owed a little something on the side."

You laugh at that, a bark of a laugh that signals the disbelief that he's actually speaking to you right now, saying such things. "I don't owe you shit!"

"Maybe not. Doesn't matter though, because I'm gonna let you go." Logan groans, stroking a long, hard drag down the line of his cock in his pants.

This makes you narrow your eyes, suspicious. "What do you mean?"

"I'm gonna let you go. Gonna let you make a run for it. Here." He tosses a knife to the bed, making you flinch but then you quickly grab it, eyeing him. He's still touching himself, but with an agonized sigh he lets go. You wonder if he was close... Logan stands up, opening the door to the small, one room cabin and letting you see the trees outside. "Half a mile west there's a road. Not used a whole lot but someone is bound to come by, pick you up. I'll give you a head start, and you can use that knife on me. You can kill me if you try hard enough. Little fighter like you, might even be able to get the slip on me."

You blink. This can't be real. "This is a trick, isn't it... you're gonna punish me for running, or, or for stabbing you..."

Logan shakes his head, gesturing out to where the sun was setting fast. "Nope, won't punish you for that. Just like a challenge, that's all."

"There's... there a catch, isn't there... something you aren't telling me."

For a moment his face is still, like he's trying to put on a poker face. Then, a smile breaks. "I've never been a good lair. yeah, there's something I'm not tell'n yuh, bub, but really, what choice do you have?"

As you rise from the bed, he stands back. You hold out the knife, and he keeps his hands up, palms towards you... his face was almost condescending... but what choice did you have. Once you back away several steps, you turn around and make a run for it. You weren't exactly sure his powers, but given his name was wolverine you were fairly certain speed was one of them.

"I'll count down from 100!" Logan calls after you, his voice starting to sound distant. "100... 99...98... keep running little bunny! 97... 96..." You faintly hear the 95 before you're out of earshot, running as fast as your legs can take you through the woods. Jumping over logs and stumbling down hills, you run more than you have since your high school made you do a mile, your out of shape body struggling to take in oxygen. Tree branches smacked your face, leaves wet with dew, the little sticks drawing blood on your cheek but you don't dare stop, not for a second.

Something zooms past you nearby, a rustling of bushes an the faint sound of '10' in your ear, before all goes still again. You're close, you have to be.

'5'

Shit, shit. You grip the knife in your fist as you try to pick up speed, tired legs carrying you as fast as they'll go but it's not enough.

Logan is in front of you, a broad smile on his face and hands gripping your shoulders to stop you. "One."

You scream, stabbing him in the rib cage expecting him to shout in pain but instead he moans in pleasure. No time to process this, you kick him in the dick and shove him over, making a run for it again, but Logan grabs your foot, causing you to fall face first into the dirt and grass. Strong arms yank you, despite crawling as nothing, and suddenly you are under him.

"No!" You try to get away, but he's too strong, too quick, pinning your hands down and he looms over you.

"Pretty little bunny... running so fast..." Logan cocks his head to the side. "Not quite fast enough, eh?" Leaning down, Logan licks a stripe up your cheek, tasting the blood on your face. "Tasty little bunny..."

Your hand with the knife continues to be pinned down, Logan bracing his entire weight on your wrist while he undoes his pants, freeing his cock from the restraints. The throbbing member lay heavy against your thigh, a size you can only guess from the feeling and for a moment you think he's going to take off your shorts the same way. Then, Logan placed his knuckles at the base of your shorts and suddenly there's a stinging, sharp pain running up your leg and to your waist.

"Fuck!!!" No one is around to hear you screaming, no one except Logan who thrust his fist out, tearing your shorts and underwear to literal shreds.

When cock is thrust into you, you can't even scream anymore as the sounds get lodged into your throat, trapped in there just as you are now, his body caging you.

"Fuck'n tight there, princess. Is that fear, or is that all you?" You respond with a slap to his face which only makes him fuck you harder. "Aha, I think that's all you, baby doll, you were soaking my fingers earlier. Creamy little pussy ready to squirt on a strangers hands."

"FUCK YOU!"

"You want me dead?"

"Yes!"

He releases your sore hand, but the knife still lays next to it. "Take your shot, why dontcha?"

Thinking fast, you grab the handle again and with a scream, you plunge it into his neck.

To your surprise he just grins broadly. What the fuck is wrong with him.

Again, again, again, you stab the knife into different parts of his body as he stabs between your legs, fucking with more more intensity, with loud moans, closer and closer to his release. His gruff pants in your ear mirror your screams, listening to Logan moan and groan and whimper as he ravages your helpless body when you realize... he likes it. He likes it and the wounds are healing as fast as you can cut him.

"Pretty bunny..." He chuckles lowly, his hand gripping your sides so hard it feels like a pinch, your fragile non-mutant body nothing but a plaything for him. With a loud growl, Logan cums inside you, filling you up as he continues to fuck him cum inside you, streams of hot cum flooding inside you. How was he still hard? Movements begin to slow, but your exhaustion begins to take it's toll on you, giving up harming him and simply taking it. "That's it... that's my good girl. Give in to me, little bunny. Let me have you... I can make it so good." Logan thrusts up into you, hitting something so devastating and deep no one has before, his rough hand sliding to your center to caress your bud.

"I don't want it to be good..." You cry weakly, even as pleasure builds down in you.

"Sure yuh do... c'mon, pretty girl you can give it to me... don't fight it, it's useless. You're mine now, my bunny... cum for me..." Logan's demeanor changes, suddenly indulgent and begging, his facial hair tickling your skin as he nuzzles your neck. "Wanna feel it... Wanna feel my sweet bunny coming on my cock... becoming mine..." You can't fight it anymore, the thick stretch on him, his skilled hands, the sleepiness clouding your rational... and he feels it too. "There we go... that's my girl, all mine, huh? You're mine now my pet... yeah... all mine..." It was painfully delicious, the way he made you feel, how his hands seemed to know you so intimately...

Then that chloroformed clothe was on your mouth again, his cock still buried hard inside you. You didn't fight this time, letting the release of sleep take you.

Slowly, Logan began to grind his hips into your body again, his hands claw extending again as they slipped under your shirt. No cuts this time, only a few nicks before he shredded your shirt now, leaving you in tattered clothes as he felt you up. Logan's mouth was at your ear. "Can't have you fighting me this time, little bunny. I'm gonna get to know this sweet body, I'm gonna lean everything it likes..." He cups your breasts, tweaking at a bare nipple. "Gonna take good care of you."

As you fall asleep, you can hear a car driving nearby.

THANK YOU!!!!!

I am so excited to try out a new character!!!!!!

Unfortunetly, after I made the go fund me listed above my car's fucking starter went bad ;-; that'll be like $800. I'm struggling to get by. Please please pease consider making a donation or donating o my ko-fi or biy me a coffee all linked above!. If not, thats totally okay! Theres no presure.

If you are inclinded, please consider reblogging this post with my go fund me.

Likes, comments and reblogs are sooooo appriciated!!!

I knew I'm new to logan but if you like OScar Isaac or Pedro PAscal characters, consider checking out my other work!! thanks!!!

Tagging those who expressed interest or who i thought might like?

No presure if its not your thing! Comment if you want more dark logan!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @reveric @wolverineswaifu @birbita @multiversed-daydreamer

love yuh!

#dark logan howlett #dark!fic #non con #logan howlett x reader #hugh jackman #wolverine #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #logan x reader #x men #logan howlett smut #james logan howlett #dark logan #dark wolverine #smut #hugh jackman logan #manspreading olympics

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meazalykov · 1 month ago

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penalty

alexia putellas x gerwnt!reader

summary: the hardest penalty save of your career

warnings: angst

the sun beats down on the pitch as you stand on the line, hands gripping your gloves tight, the leather already damp with sweat. the loudness feels distant, muffled against the pounding of your heart.

the spanish players are lined up, one by one, their eyes fixed on you, their determination clear. they are the reigning champions of the world, the team everyone expects to dominate and take the bronze like it was a piece of cake.

however.. you? you are a wall they will not break. no way.

ann is out on injury, and all eyes are on you now. the weight of the bronze medal match presses against your chest, heavier than any gear you’ve ever worn. you’ve been here before, in games where the odds were stacked against you… this feels different though. this is the olympics. this is spain you are playing against.

you adjust your stance, crouching low, eyes locked on alexia as she steps up to take the penalty.

the world seems to shrink and expand all at once as alexia steps up to the penalty spot. the noise of the crowd surrounds you, a deafening roar, but your focus is solely on her. she adjusts the ball carefully, her fingers brushing against it as if ensuring it’s perfectly placed.

it’s a ritual you know well. how many times have you seen this exact moment play out at barcelona? this time, it’s different.

this time, you’re not watching from a distance. you’re not on the same team in barcelona, cheering her on as she steps up to deliver. this time, she’s your opponent. the person you’ve built your life with, the person you moved countries for, the person who sees you in ways no one else does… she’s standing just a few feet away, preparing to beat you.

the score is 1-0 for germany thanks to giulia.. if alexia scores.. it's equalized. its the last few minutes of the match, so your girlfriend needs this in order for the match to be saved for spain.

alexia’s face is unreadable, her usual calm determination etched into every feature. ale’s eyes, the ones that soften when she’s with you, are now laser-focused, studying you as if you’re just another obstacle in her way.

you’re trying, desperately, to think of her as just another opponent, another world-class player stepping up to try and break your streak.

she’s not though.

she’s alexia. your alexia. your ale. your home.

your mind flashes to the moments you’ve shared over the years. the conversations in the middle of the night where she confided her fears that she would’ve told nobody else, the way she smiled at you after her acl surgery back in 2022, promising she’d come back stronger. the nights you spent curled up together, her head on your chest, her soft breathing the only sound in the room.

you remember the way she held you when germany crashed out of the world cup last year. when alexia won the world cup, you kept your disappointment away from her for a while. suddenly, it exploded a month after the loss. you were lost too, and felt like you weren’t going to recover from that exit.

at that time, your tears soaking into her shirt as she whispered, "you’ll get another chance, mi amor. when you do, you’ll prove to everyone just how incredible you are."

this is that chance.

you try to shake the thoughts away, grounding yourself in the present. alexia takes a few steps back, adjusting her captain's armband. she looks at you again, her gaze steady, and you wonder if she can see the turmoil in your eyes.

the referee blows the whistle.

time slows as she starts her approach. you’ve seen this before.. her technique, her precision, the way she always manages to disguise her intentions until the last possible second. she’s a master at it, and you’ve spent years admiring that skill.

however, you’ve also spent years studying it.

your instincts take over as she strikes the ball, the familiar snap of her boot against leather echoing in your mind. you dive to your right, your body moving before you fully process the decision. in less than a second, the ball connects with your gloves, the impact jolting through your arms as you push it away.

the stadium erupts into a cacophony of cheers and groans, but all you can hear is your own breathing, ragged and heavy.

you’re on your knees, staring at the ball as it rolls harmlessly out of bounds over the goalpost.

you saved it.

the weight of what you’ve done crashes down on you as your teammates rush toward you, their voices loud and jubilant, their hands patting your back, pulling you to your feet as everyone not runs onto the pitch for a group hug.

germany won.

you smile, nodding at them, but your eyes immediately search for alexia.

she’s standing at the edge of the penalty area, her hands on her hips, her head tilted slightly downward. ale’s expression is unreadable, and for a moment, you wonder if she’s angry, disappointed, or simply resigned.

you feel a pang of guilt so sharp it nearly takes your breath away. you knew this moment might come, knew that playing for your country might mean standing in the way of hers, but knowing and experiencing are two entirely different things.

this was never supposed to happen. not like this.

you want to run to her, to tell her it’s not personal, that it’s just football. that feels hollow, even in your own mind. how can it not be personal? how can anything between you and alexia not carry the weight of what you mean to each other?

your teammates pull you into a huddle, their excitement screaming in the air around you, but your focus remains on her. she finally looks up, her eyes meeting yours across the pitch. for a brief second, everything else falls away.

it’s just the two of you, connected by something unspoken, something stronger than your careers.

the moment passes, and she turns away, jogging back to her position as aitana and laia pat her on the back, telling her that she did a nice try in catalan.

you swallow hard, forcing yourself to focus on the bronze medal, the bronze medal you’ve won once that whistle goes off. there’s still time on the clock, two minutes, still work to be done.

germany needs you to stay sharp, to hold the line, to prove that last year’s world cup heartbreak was just a stepping stone.

the whistle blows after those torturous two minutes– filled with laura and klara keeping the ball away from your side of the field. as take off your gloves after the match ends.. and you’re hugging many of your german teammates.

however you can’t shake the weight of what just happened. you’ve played against friends before, against teammates, but never against alexia. never against the person who knows you better than anyone, who has seen you at your most vulnerable, who has been your rock through everything.

you glance at her every chance you get, looking for any sign of how she’s feeling. but alexia is a professional. she doesn’t let her emotions show, not on the pitch.

still, you can’t help but wonder if this moment, this save, will change things between you.

no matter how much you try to separate the game from your relationship, you know it’s not that simple. it never is.

as you push yourself away from the front of the goalpost, shaking the sting out of your hands, you can still see the disbelief in alexia’s eyes from across the pitch, only you could tell. everyone else probably thinks she is exhausted.

the bronze medal is yours. you smile, you celebrate with your teammates, but something inside you feels hollow. you’ve done your job, you’ve saved your team, and germany has claimed the medal.

yet, the joy feels distant, like you’re watching it all from a foggy window.

your mind drifts, always returning to alexia. your girlfriend, your love, the woman you’ve spent years building a life with. you can’t shake the thought… what does she think? how does she feel?

you play for barcelona, have since 2021.. and catalonia is her heart, her pride. you’ve just done what you never thought you would.. defeated spain, broken their dreams of an olympic medal.

will your fans still love you? will they understand that you had no choice? and what about alexia?

will she hate you for this? can she even look at you the same way after you took something so important from her, something she’s worked for her entire life?

the thought lingers, twisting inside you, even as the team surrounds you, offering their congratulations. it doesn’t feel like a true win. not yet.

and then, through the crowd, you see someone.

lena.

on crutches, her knee still in recovery from surgery, but her smile wide and her eyes filled with warmth. she approaches you, her arms opening wide as she drops her crunches, and you don’t hesitate. you step into her embrace, letting her hold you as if she can somehow take away the weight on your chest.

you press your face into your best friend's shoulder, needing this moment of comfort more than you expected. obi’s hug feels like the one thing that isn’t tainted by the competition, the one thing that’s still pure, still good.

lena pulls back slightly, looking you in the eye.

“you were incredible out there,” she says in german, her voice filled with pride.

“that save.. everyone will be talking about it for months.”

you try to muster a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“it’s fine, obi,” you murmur, trying to downplay it.

lena doesn’t buy it. she knows you too well.

“you did something selfless, y/n. it wasn’t just a save. you did it against... the love of your life. that’s hard.”

your throat tightens at her words. you nod, but the reality of what you’ve done starts to hit harder.

how do you reconcile this? how do you keep your love for alexia intact while also celebrating the victory with your team?

“it’s fine,” you repeat, but even you can tell it sounds empty.

lena hesitates, then places a hand on your shoulder, her gaze softening with understanding. “things will be okay. you’ll see.” but the way she says it—so gentle, yet laced with an undercurrent of uncertainty—lets you know that even lena isn’t entirely sure.

she’s still healing from her own injury, still grappling with what the future holds for her own life, and maybe, just maybe, that same uncertainty is creeping into her words for you too.

afterwards, you pace the edge of the pitch, your boots scuffing against the grass as you watch the boring scene unfold around you. the crowd is long gone, the cheers and jeers now a distant echo.

you’re searching for her.

alexia.

it’s been over an hour since the final whistle, and you haven’t seen her since. you’ve tried to focus, to join in the celebrations, but your mind keeps pulling you back to her. you know her too well to believe she’s fine.

alexia doesn’t lose easily, especially not like this.

you spot her, finally, near the edge of the pitch. she’s standing with her arms crossed, her head down, and you feel an overwhelming need to go to her, to make things right, to say something.. anything.. that might ease the weight she must be carrying.

before you can take more than a step, someone steps in front of you.

“y/n,” jenni says softly, her hand coming up to rest on your arm. her voice is kind, but her expression is firm.

“jenni,” you start, your tone pleading, but she shakes her head.

“you did what you needed to do. the better team won. maybe give her some space,” she suggests, her words careful, but they still hit like a punch to the gut.

you knew jenni from your time at psg back in 2017. she was the closest person in your life at that time, being your best friend for the one season that she was there for. in fact, she introduced you to alexia back in 2019. she knows you both.

you blink, caught off guard.

“space?” you repeat, the word tasting bitter on your tongue.

“jenni, i just... i need to talk to her.”

jenni hesitates, her gaze flickering toward alexia before settling back on you. again, she’s your best friend, someone who’s seen you through highs and lows, and she knows how much alexia means to you. however, she also knows alexia.

“it’s not you,” jenni says quickly, her tone softening as she notices the hurt flash across your face.

“it’s not. she just... she might need a break. from everything. from everyone. she has not said a single word to anyone yet, only comforting salma for a few minutes and thats it.”

the words sting, even though you know they’re not meant to.

“ale thinks she let salma and the rest of them down, doesn’t she?” you ask quietly, your voice barely audible.

jenni sighs, her hand still on your arm as if to steady you.

“she does. she’s been carrying the weight for years, y/n. you know that. and after everything—her injury, coming back, proving herself again—she’s scared she’s not the same player she used to be.”

you know that.

you close your eyes for a moment, the guilt settling in your chest like a stone. you’ve spent years telling alexia she’s still the best, that she would come back stronger, that the injury didn’t define her. now, after tonight, after that save...

“and now she thinks that penalty proved her fear,” you whisper, the words like ash in your mouth.

jenni doesn’t respond right away, but the look on her face tells you enough. you open your eyes and glance back at alexia, your heart aching at the sight of her. she’s still standing there, alone, her head bowed as if the weight of the world is pressing down on her.

you bite the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to nod.

“okay,” you say finally, your voice thick.

“i’ll give her space.”

jenni looks at you with something like sympathy, squeezing your arm gently.

“just for now,” she says.

“she’ll come to you when she’s ready. you know she will.”

you nod again, but the ache in your chest doesn’t lessen. jenni steps away, leaving you standing there as you watch alexia, your mind racing with everything you want to say but can’t.

the same alexia who held you when you thought your career was over after germany’s world cup exit. the alexia who told you that you were more than football, that your value wasn’t tied to wins or losses. now, when she needs to hear those same words, you’re the direct reason she’s hurting.

you stay there a moment longer, the distance between you and alexia feeling wider than it ever has. then, with a heavy heart, you turn and walk away.

in barcelona four days later, two days after the medal ceremony.. the door to your shared apartment clicks softly as you step inside, the familiar scent of home wrapping around you. tonight, it feels heavier somehow, as if the air itself is weighed down by everything unsaid between you and alexia.

neither of you have talked since the morning before the bronze medal match, four and a half days ago.

you slip off your shoes and place your bag by the door, your movements slow and deliberate, your heart pounding in your chest. you know she’s here. ale’s black car was parked outside, and the faint hum of her favorite playlist drifts through the apartment, almost drowned out by your own thoughts.

walking down the foyer, you find her in the living room, sitting on the couch with her legs tucked beneath her, a blanket draped over her shoulders. ale’s hair is loose, falling in waves around her face, and her eyes are fixed on the coffee table, where a glass of wine sits untouched.

“hey,” you say softly, your voice tentative.

alexia glances up, her eyes meeting yours for a brief second before she looks away.

“hey,” she murmurs, her tone flat, distant.

you hesitate in the doorway, unsure whether to move closer or give her more space. the sight of her like this.. quiet, withdrawn, her usual spark dimmed.. twists something deep inside you.

“i... i didn’t think you’d be home this early,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

“didn’t feel like staying out,” she replies, still not looking at you.

you frown, knowing some of your non-barcelona spanish friends.. jenni for example, all went to party before the club season starts again.

the silence that follows in the apartment is unbearable, thick with tension and words neither of you knows how to say. you take a cautious step forward, then another, until you’re standing just a few feet away.

“alexia,” you start, your voice trembling despite your best efforts.

“can we talk?”

she exhales deeply, her shoulders slumping under the weight of whatever she’s carrying.

“about what?” she asks, her tone almost defensive.

you falter, your hands wringing together as you search for the right words.

“about... the game. about us. about everything.”

alexia shakes her head, pulling the blanket tighter around herself.

“there’s nothing to talk about,” she says quietly, but the crack in her voice betrays her.

you sink to your knees in front of her, your hands resting on the edge of the couch. “there is,” you insist, your voice breaking.

“alexia, please. i need to know where we stand. i need to know if...” you trail off, your throat tightening with emotion.

ale’s eyes finally meet yours, and the sadness in them is almost too much to bear.

“if what?” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

“if you’re going to hate me,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. tears prick at your eyes, and you blink them away furiously.

“because i can’t stop thinking about it, alexia. that penalty. i saved it, and it felt like i was taking something from you...”

alexia’s eyes widen, her expression softening as she realizes the depth of your fear. she leans forward, her hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “y/n,” she says firmly, her voice steady despite the tears welling up in her own eyes.

“don’t ever say that. don’t ever think that.”

you shake your head, the tears spilling over now as you let out a shaky breath.

“but it’s true. you missed, and spain didn’t get the medal, and now... now i feel like i’ve ruined everything, like i’ve ruined us.”

ale’s grip on your cheek tightens slightly, grounding you as she speaks.

“you didn’t ruin anything. yes, i’m upset about the penalty. yes, it hurts to lose like that. but y/n, that has nothing to do with us. i could never hate you. not for that, not for anything.”

“but—”

“no,” she interrupts, her voice growing stronger.

“listen to me. football is not my whole life. it’s not your whole life. we are more than this sport. you are the love of my life, y/n. the one person who has stood by me through everything.. through my injury, my recovery, through what happened with my national team, my fears. i am not losing you over a penalty save, no matter how much it hurts right now.”

you choke on a sob, leaning into her touch as your tears fall freely.

“i was so scared,” you admit, your voice breaking. “scared that i’d lose you, scared that you’d resent me.”

she shakes her head, her own tears slipping down her cheeks as she strokes your skin with her thumb.

“never,” she says fiercely. “i could never resent you. you did your job, just like i tried to do mine. and if i’m upset, it’s at myself, not you.”

you let out a shaky breath, the weight in your chest lifting ever so slightly as her words sink in. she shifts forward, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you into her embrace.

you bury your face in her neck, clinging to her as if she might disappear. her hands run soothingly up and down your back, her touch gentle but firm, anchoring you in the moment.

“we’ll get through this,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion.

“we always do.”

you nod against her, the knot in your chest loosening just a little more. because she’s right. this is just one moment in a lifetime of moments, and no matter how hard it feels now, you know you’ll find your way back to each other.

“i love you,” you whisper, your voice muffled against her skin.

“i love you too,” she replies, her voice steady, unwavering. “more than anything.”

you’re still wrapped up in her embrace when alexia pulls back slightly, her hands lingering on your arms as her eyes search yours. they’re softer now, the weight they carried moments ago easing into something warmer, more familiar.

“can i see the bronze medal?” she asks suddenly, her voice quiet but sincere.

you blink, surprised by the question.

“the medal?”

she nods, her lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile.

“yes. you’ve earned it, and i want to see it.”

you hesitate for a moment, unsure. there’s still a part of you that feels like showing her might be rubbing salt into a wound, like it might remind her of the loss instead of the victory. but the way she’s looking at you, with such genuine curiosity and care, gives you the courage to stand up and retrieve it from your bag.

as you pull the medal out, the bronze glinting under the soft light of your apartment, you can’t help but feel a flicker of pride. not just for yourself, but for germany, for what you all accomplished together.

you hold it out to her, the ribbon dangling from your fingers, and alexia reaches for it with delicate hands. she takes the medal, turning it over in her fingers, studying it as if it’s a priceless artifact.

“it’s beautiful,” she murmurs, her thumb tracing the embossed lettering on the front. ale’s expression shifts, and when she looks up at you, her eyes are filled with something you can’t quite place.. pride, admiration, and maybe even a touch of awe.

“you did this,” she says softly.

“you brought this home for germany. after everything... after the world cup... you gave them this.”

ale’s words hit you like a wave, washing over the lingering doubts and guilt that have been sitting heavy in your chest. you swallow hard, trying to keep your emotions in check.

“i just... i wanted to do something for my team since ann couldn’t play,” you say quietly.

“something to show that we’ve grown, that we’re not the same team that fell apart last year.”

alexia smiles, and it’s small, but it’s real.

“and you did. you gave those women something to believe in again.”

you study her face, looking for any sign of lingering hurt or resentment, but all you see is her..the woman who has always stood by your side, who has always believed in you, even when you didn’t believe in yourself.

“you’re really okay with this?” you ask, your voice hesitant.

she nods, holding the medal out to you.

“of course i’m hurt, y/n. but that doesn’t mean i’m not happy for you and for your team. you deserved this moment. your team deserved it.”

you take the medal from her, your fingers brushing hers, and the warmth of her touch grounds you.

“i’m proud of you,” she continues, her voice steady, her eyes never leaving yours.

“not just for the save, but for everything. for the way you carry yourself, for the way you fight for your team. and for the way you’ve always fought for me, too.”

ale’s words bring fresh tears to your eyes, but this time, they’re not from fear or guilt. they’re from love, from relief, from the overwhelming realization that no medal, no match, no save could ever come between you and her.

you step closer, wrapping your arms around her again, the medal clinking softly between you.

“thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

she rests her chin on your shoulder, her hands rubbing gentle circles on your back. “i mean it,” she murmurs.

“this doesn’t change us. football is just a part of our lives. you are my life, y/n.”

you close your eyes, letting her words sink in, letting them soothe the raw edges of your heart.

masterlist

#alexia putellas #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #barcelona femeni #fc barcelona #gerwnt #lena oberdorf #jenni hermoso #2024 olympics

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artdcnaldson · 8 months ago

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need Olympics!au reader to be a little insane. a little bonkers. bouncing on arts cock and asking him to say things like he loves you and how you're the best hes ever had and that hes going to leave tashi, always when hes about to cum so he doesn't have time to think about it - just says whatever if it means you'll let him cum inside. not knowing you're taking it all to heart in your delusional little head. smiling when you nuzzle into his chest and play with his cum, pushing it back in your pussy, thinking about how art is loyal - he just needs a little push - and then he'll be yours, surely.

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: Toxic!Reader, infidelity, SMUT, Tashi catches strays but that’s only bc reader is respectfully insane <3

A/N: okay this was supposed to be a lot shorter but it ended up getting long so if anyone wants more of this AU lmk and I’ll keep going. Okayyyy thank you bye <3

If he was really devoted to his marriage, he wouldn’t be fucking you. A loyal husband wouldn’t have been seeking out a younger woman, wouldn’t have been seeking out you.

You figured that Rio had been your shot— you’d fucked him, planted the seed of infidelity there. You had freed him— you gave him a back door to escape out of.

If nothing else, you gave yourself a fantasy to touch yourself to for the rest of your fucking life. That was something.

Two weeks after Rio, you saw a message from Art in your Instagram DMs. Somewhere safe, hidden from his wife’s prying eyes, you supposed. Even if she saw it, you didn’t really care. Maybe it’d start a fight, send him careening heartbroken into your bed, into your arms.

Can I see you again?

You opened it, left it on read for a couple of hours to make him sweat. When you responded, you played at regret. We shouldn’t see each other… you’re married.

Art was quick to respond. Please?

You smiled. It was just so easy that he had to have wanted out of the marriage. You were just the first one to throw him a rope.

Your home was modest compared to what he shared with his wife, but you figured being in your early twenties and being able to buy a home with cash was impressive on its own. He parked in your garage, had you pinned against the wall the second he crossed the threshold into your home.

Each kiss was hungry, desperate. Tongue licking into your mouth, moaning as he ground his already hard cock against your clothed cunt. I mean, Jesus, you were wearing tiny little shorts, a big Team USA tee shirt. When his hands slipped beneath it, you gasped and arched into his touch. No bra beneath it— nothing between his large hands and your tits.

Every nerve in your body was thrumming, begging for you to reach out and take. His lips never parted from yours as you led him deeper inside your house, kissing you hungrily, like he wouldn’t mind if you just stopped and let him fuck you on the floor.

Someday. You’d like to see him that desperate, that animalistic. But that wasn’t what you needed them, so you just pushed him down onto your couch. The hardwood dug against your knees as you settled between his thighs. He was so hard that you could see the imprint of him against his jeans— long and thick and mouthwatering.

You licked your lips, rubbed him through the thick fabric. He hissed at that first contact and looked down at you with half-lidded eyes.

He could hardly let himself look at you as you pulled his pants down, peeled them off and tossed them to the side. Wet, soft kisses peppered up his thighs as you brought yourself closer and closer to what you really wanted. You nudged his thighs apart, pulse thrumming at the sight of him laid out before you like a feast.

Your hand looked so small wrapped around him, pumping him slowly. His cock twitched in your grip as you spit onto it so each pass of your hand was slick and smooth. He swallowed hard, already panting.

His balls rested between his thighs— full and heavy, carrying loads you needed him to spill inside of your cunt. Your lips met the soft pink flesh and he fucking whined, a broken, needy sort of sound that made heat bloom in your stomach.

You peered up at him as you placed open mouthed kisses to his sack, continuing to pump his length in your hand. You took one of his balls into your mouth and laved it with your tongue, moaning around him. His fingers scratched against the leather of your couch, seeking some sort of grip to tether him, so you took one of his hands and moved it to your hair.

And, really, you could have spent all day between his legs with his balls in your mouth, feeling them pulse on your tongue as you sucked each between your lips. His balls felt so full, so heavy against your tongue. It made you wonder how often Tashi drained them for him— if she took care of him the way you would.

You kissed up his shaft, kitten-licked the head of his cock, sighing contentedly at the salty taste of precum. He moaned, bucking into your grip, towards the wet heat of your mouth.

The fingers he had tangled in your hair tightened as you took him into your mouth. You fought your gag reflex as you relaxed your throat, took him deeper until your nose pressed against the soft skin just above the base of his cock.

It was cute that he was hairless everywhere, all soft and smooth, but you wondered what he’d look like hairier. Maybe you could convince him to ease up on the grooming, just so you could see if you liked it. You moaned just thinking about that tiny bit of control over him as you ground down against your heel for friction.

His hand guided your movements as you began bobbing your head, almost reverent. Almost loving. You gave a contented hum as you looked up at him, meeting his gaze as you swallowed him down to the base again and again and again.

When you finally came up for air after god knows how long, your lips were slick with spit. His cock was shiny from how you drooled on it, messy with spit bubbles around the base. He rubbed his thumb along your jaw, holding your face in his hand.

“God, you’re something else,” He sighed, a pleased smile playing at his lips.

You tilted your head to the side, leaning into the warmth and comfort of his touch. Your eyes fluttered shut, a seraphic smile played at your lips. “Does your wife suck your cock as good as I do?” You asked, almost sweetly.

He took a shaky breath, and you could see the hesitation, the loyalty, the devotion in him fighting against what he really wanted. He wanted you— your perfect mouth, your tight pussy, your willingness to give him anything he wanted, anything Tashi wouldn’t let him have.

“Bend over the sofa,” he said suddenly. You didn’t argue— you accepted the redirection easily, because you knew what he was avoiding. He didn’t want to admit the truth. He tugged your shorts and panties around your ankles, exposing your wet, sticky cunt.

He manhandled you, rough and punishing, like he wanted to work out his guilt inside of your cunt. You were dripping down your thighs, onto the leather beneath your hips. Fuck it, you’d buy a new couch.

“Fuck me,” you gasped, reaching back to claw at his arm, to leave pretty nail marks, to stake your claim. He pushed your head down into the cushions, bullied his fat cock into you again and again and again.

His thumb circled your asshole like he wanted to test the waters. A soft moan escaped you, you pushed back against him as an invitation to keep going. He spat down onto your hole before he pressed his thumb inside, just past the tight ring of muscle. Your toes curled, your eyes rolled back— you were fucking game.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned. His pace was punishing, brutal. From the angle you could’ve sworn you felt him punching at your fucking diaphragm, knocking out your breaths in weak, whiny pants. “You were fucking made to take this dick, huh?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. You were. You were you were you were. “Tell me—“ you cried out at a particularly deep thrust, eyes fluttering, rolling back. He continued to tease your ass with his thumb, pushing in, letting you feel full just to pull it out and leave you empty again. “Tell me I— oh, god— that I feel better than her.”

The couch scraped against the floor as he fucked into you, rough and relentless. His thumb pressed even deeper and you fucking keened. “Will that make you happy?” He repositioned your hips, made room to slide a hand beneath you and rub fast on your clit. “Even if I can’t mean it?”

Can’t, not don’t. You fucking sobbed at the sensation and nodded desperately as he played with your body like a toy. “So happy,” you practically babbled, panting onto the leather. Because he did mean it. You knew it, that he was there, bullying his cock into your right pussy instead of at home, for a reason. “Just tell me.”

A beat. Then another. He bent over you, so his chest pressed against your back, so he was crushing you beneath his weight. “You feel so much fucking better,” he said, practically panting in your ear as he fucked you. He was so deep that you felt whole, wished he would just stay there forever. “You’re tighter, and wetter— god— your pussy’s so, so, sweet, it’s fucking soaking me right now.”

You came when he said it, eyes rolling back, practically drooling onto the couch. Your cunt squeezed him, gushing as he bullied his cock inside your spasming walls. He made a weak noise in the back of his throat, like he knew you got off on him praising you and he fucking liked it.

“Are you gonna let me cum inside?” His voice sounded strained with thinly held restraint.

You nodded, whimpered weakly with the intense need for it. “Pleasepleasepleaseplease.” The words fell pathetically from your lips, over an over as he drilled into your sensitive cunt.

He came buried deep inside of you, so you felt the pulse of him, the flood of warmth. You whined as he pulled out and grabbed his clothes off the floor.

“You’re just leaving?” You asked with a frown, with big fat crocodile tears in your eyes as you stood up and pulled your clothes back up.

“Tashi thinks I’m visiting a friend from Stanford,” he said, looking at you with guilt plain on his face. For what he had done to you, or what he had done to her? You couldn’t even tell. It made annoyance sit hot in your stomach. “I can’t stay.”

“I thought…” you swallowed, played up your disappointment. “I thought you’d stay, maybe we could watch a movie, or order takeout. Did you… did you only come here to fuck me?”

He swallowed, looked at the floor. “I didn’t… it’s not that.” His gaze softened and he stepped closer, putting his hands on your shoulders. Touching you almost clinically until you blinked pretty, pathetic tears from your eyes. He pulled you into his arms, and you felt a thrill of victory.

His lips pressed against the crown of your head and you pulled back, peering up at him with glossy eyes. He sighed, let a soft smile spread across his lips. “Takeout sounds great.”

You smiled wide, stood on your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his cheek. “Yeah? Okay, just get comfy and I’ll order something for us.”

Art looked right at home in your living room, flipping through your TV for something to watch. You rejoined him on the couch, curled up sweetly against his side. It felt so right; the two of you happy and content and freshly fucked.

You tangled your fingers with his, gave his hand a small squeeze. He smiled over at you, kissed your forehead sweetly.

“Will you kiss me?” You asked softly, meeting his gaze. “Please?”

He leaned in, pressed his lips to yours softly, tenderly. You smiled into the kiss, keeping it sweet and chaste before you pulled back and squeezed his hand.

Yeah, you got your takeout and a movie. It was the least he could do.

@poppy-metal your mind is so amazing <3 I’m going to write the rest of this request also I prommy it’s just too good.

#olympics au #my writing #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson fanfic #challengers x reader #challengers fanfic

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olympic-reader · 4 months ago

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Pisces Horoscope

October 28 - November 3, 2024

Overview

This week, Pisces, you are navigating a complex astrological landscape with several significant transits. The sun is in the early degrees of Scorpio, and the moon transitions from Virgo to Scorpio, culminating in a new moon on November 1st. Mercury is moving through Scorpio and will enter Sagittarius by November 3rd. Venus is in the last deacon of Sagittarius, ruled by Saturn, while Mars is in the last deacon of Cancer, ruled by the moon. Additionally, Jupiter is retrograde in Gemini, and Saturn is retrograde in Pisces.

This Week vs. Last Week

Last Week: You may have felt a sense of introspection and emotional depth as the moon moved through Virgo, highlighting your daily routines and health.

This Week: The new moon in Scorpio on November 1st brings a fresh start, particularly in areas related to shared resources and intimacy. This is a time to set intentions for transformation and renewal.

Key Influences

Venus in Sagittarius (Last Deacon, Ruled by Saturn): This transit encourages you to focus on long-term goals and relationships. The influence of Saturn brings a sense of responsibility and structure, which can help you solidify commitments.

Mars in Cancer (Last Deacon, Ruled by the Moon): Mars is agitated by the moon's influence, which may lead to heightened emotions and impulsive actions. For Pisces, this can manifest as a need to assert yourself in family or home matters.

New Moon in Scorpio: This new moon is a powerful time for Pisces to delve into personal transformation. It encourages you to embrace change and let go of past emotional baggage.

Navigating the Autumn Season

Moon Influences: As a water sign, Pisces is naturally attuned to the moon's phases. Use this time to reflect on your emotional needs and how they align with your current life path.

Element and Modality: As a mutable water sign, you are adaptable and intuitive. This week, trust your instincts and be open to change, especially in personal and financial matters.

Looking Forward to Next Week

Next Week: With Mercury entering Sagittarius, communication and learning will become more expansive and optimistic. This is a good time to explore new ideas and broaden your horizons.

Wrap-up

Pisces, this week is ALL about that glow up energy! With the cosmos throwing you major transformation vibes, it's time to dive into some deep self-care and shake up your inner world! 🧜✨ Embrace those new Scorpio Moon feels on Friday, November 1, because this isn’t your average refresh; it's a full-on reinvention for you. Lean into it and watch yourself LEVEL UP. 🌊 This week’s watery Scorpio vibes are like a magical boost to your natural intuition—trust that gut, babe. You're being guided to leave behind any old baggage and float toward what truly aligns with you. 🐟💫 Keep those dreamers' hearts open, and let the universe do its thing!

#Pisces #Pisces Horoscope #Pisces Reading #Horoscope #Astrology #Astrological Forecast #Pisces Astrological Forecast #Water #Water sign #Female #Feminine #Mutable #The Occult #Esoterica #Olympic Reader

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katescorner · 6 months ago

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thinking about olympic athlete!oikawa tooru today who made it to the paris olympics, representing argentina (proudly, he might add), and his whole story leading up to the games is full of drama and expectations because of course fate would line things up perfectly for the two nations he held in his heart to rival each other on the world's court.

he hears the cheers of fans and friends along with the jeering boos from the locker room, and he thinks, has he really betrayed his birth country when "home" no longer feels like home? with rising pressure, competition tastes like a bitter word when the opposition is all familiar faces. but he didn't make it this far by being sentimental. he trained for this. he sacrificed for this. he—

"the world is watching, tooru."

your voice is soft, but it cuts through the static of his thoughts. it parts his negativity with gentle movement until all he sees is you, and suddenly, he can breathe again. so he does. he draws in a long, deep breath, and you wait for him to speak to you.

"i'm scared," he whispers. "i don't want to disappoint anyone."

his admission is proof alone of how far he's come already, willing to admit insecurity and allowing vulnerability in difficult moments. oikawa tooru is not the same man he was when he left the land he'd known all his life (leaving claw marks into the grass and ground of his hometown; they forget he was only eighteen when he uprooted himself in the name of his passion) and when he let his mother tongue fall flat so he might have a chance at becoming the best (people forget that learning languages isn't some indirect relationship, when one rises, the other does not always fall; he remembers the words he came from, the intonation and the vocabulary, the slang and the meaning of it all; he remembers, still).

oikawa tooru is not the same man he was when his childhood friends saw him last. he's grown in his time apart from them; they all have. he's miles tallers and his horizons have expanded. he's changed, but that doesn't mean he's a stranger to himself.

(i'm scared they won't recognize me.)

"you are still the person they all befriended and the man i fell in love with, and i am so so proud of you," you answer his underlying question with a kiss to his cheek, a reminder of your love. "you aren't disappointing anyone with your decisions."

"but the people of—"

"the people will cope. they'll have to." you shrug. "what else can they do? what you do isn't up to them. it isn't up to the public because the roster that made it all this way and achieved this much lists oikawa tooru, starting setter, not the guy in the eighth row calling you names, not the displeased broadcaster with a combover, and certainly not anyone else."

you take his hands into yours. you're careful because these are the instruments of his success. his fingernails are always cut short and his skin is soft except for the pads of his fingers which are rough but not calloused. he doesn't let anyone else handle him the way you do, drawing circles and hearts into his palms and pressing kisses into his joints.

"as long as you are happy with the decisions you've made to get here, no one can take that away from you." you look into your fiancé's eyes. "are you happy, tooru?"

and he thinks about the uneasiness he felt landing in argentina, the finality in not buying a return ticket, and the eagerness for volleyball that earned him an easy spot under the guidance of jose blanco. he thinks about the sleep that he lost from being hungry in an unfamiliar country, missing his mother's cooking and the smell of yakitori and takoyaki when he walked down crowded streets filled with vendors.

but he also thinks about the first word that he learned in argentina, hermanito, tossed around during practice when he didn't even know how to ask for a pass because he didn't lose a brotherhood when he left japan, he just gained one in argentina. he thinks about the grueling process of overturning his birth citizenship, the uproar he caused in a country across the globe and the apology he almost let slip for it because everyone thinks it was just for volleyball. oikawa tooru, the athlete who doesn't know loyalty, but what do they know of the open arms he received in argentina when japan turned him away?

he thinks of how stress melted from him that first night after receiving his new passport, walking to your shared apartment with his stomach grumbling at the smell of choripán and alfajor as he hummed along to lamento boliviano. he thinks of how joy spilled into him, realizing he was finally home.

so he nods at your question and he draws stuttered hearts into your palms and he presses a kiss to your temple.

(thank you for seeing who i am.)

"i'm happy."

#the olympics make me emotional sorry #oikawa x reader #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa toru x you #haikyuu blurbs #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq x you #oikawa drabble #oikawa headcanons #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru x you #oikawa fanfiction #haikyuu fanfiction #hq fanfic #the olympics

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aurorawritestoescape · 7 months ago

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HOT FOR YOU || Joel Miller x f!reader || 530 words

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, face fucking, f!masturbation

A/n: this drabble, inspired by the pic above, is written for @toxicanonymity ‘s Manspreading Olympics. Love you, friend💖 hugs to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘 dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕

same couple - HEATWAVE collection || MASTERLIST

Joel and you are enjoying a light breeze in the backyard, trying to seek relief from a heatwave, and avoiding being inside your house that turned into an oven thanks to a broken AC.

“Joel.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you doing it on purpose?”

“What?”

“Showing off your cock?”

“No. What?” He’s blinking at you, brows furrowed with confusion.

“Then close your legs,” you nod at his shorts, not covering much because of his wide manspreading. “I can see your cock peeking out. It’s staring right at me.”

Joel looks down, shifting his thighs a little, but not closing them.

“Ain’t a big deal, baby," he scoffs. “It’s just a dick.”

“Yeah but I can’t just look at it and… not feel… you know… stuff.”

“Ohh,” a smirk is tugging at his lips, “is my naughty girl getting all hot and bothered?”

“Unfortunately, yes. As if it’s not hot enough,” you complain, trying not to look at his dusty pink head.

Joel narrows his eyes, getting quiet, and you know it’s a bad sign. He’s scheming.

“Ya ain’t innocent yourself, missy. This tank top of yours? I can perfectly see your pretty tits and perky nipples. Ya understand how hot it is to watch your boobs jiggle when you move? and what about these shorts, huh? Fuckin’ tiny. I can easily imagine you not wearin’ them at all. Actually I’m imaginin’ it right now.”

His lustful gaze makes you sweat even more. Your chest starts heaving and you gush, squirming in your seat, listening to him talk about your body like that. Your wet pussy already aches.

“Yeah? and I can see your cock twitch.”

“Oh, really?” Joel’s brows shoot up as he adds, “Can you see it get hard, baby?”

You tilt your head, noticing the motion.

“Yeah, I can.”

You cross your legs, chasing any pressure on your needy cunt, and dart your tongue out to wet your lower lip.

Joel’s eyes turn a shade darker and he palms himself.

“You’ve made me hard, dirty girl. Wanna help me out and suck my cock?”

You swallow loudly as his sexy low voice and the filthy words send a new wave of arousal through your body.

“It’s too hot, Joel,” you whine, hating how horny he’s made you in this goddamn heat.

“Right… Then let me fuck your face, baby. Just sit on your knees for me and I’ll do all the work.”

Joel’s puppy eyes make you pliant and even more needy. He rubs his cock over the shorts and a low groan escapes his lips. Now you’re overflowing with desire.

Not saying anything you get up, peeling your sweaty thighs off the chair, and kneel between his legs. His bulge is huge and you place your hand on it and stoke the warm lump gently over the fabric. Joel growls and soon impatience takes over him. He gets up, tugs the waistband of his shorts down and his hard cock springs free in all its glory.

Joel cups your cheek, holding you in place, and slowly inserts his hot tip into your open mouth.

A minute later you’re nothing but a moaning, drooling mess. Keeping you steady with his big hands on your temples, Joel’s plunging his length into the heat of your throat, sliding in and out easily, while your quick fingers are working your puffy clit and you get off, sucking Joel’s juicy cock.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!❤️

same couple - HEATWAVE collection || Masterlist

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @fruityreads

#manspreading olympics #pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller tlou #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfic

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777gojosgf · 6 months ago

Text

HE JUST COMES RUNNING TO ME

777GOJOSGF IS TYPING…

777gojosgf: reader x olympic medalist!gojo satoru

IN WHICH:: gojo won gold at the olympics!

a/n: inspired by the alchemy - taylor swift

YOU STOOD ON THE STANDS, your eyes fixed on him, your heart thumping out of your chest from the intense anxiousness coursing through you. how he was feeling right now is beyond comprehension. it seemed like there was only him and the applause pressed themselves into your ears.

just like it always had been.

since the two of you were students, you have always supported his athletics by attending every game, no matter what the circumstances. there wouldn't be a competition where you wouldn't be there to support him, and what started as a frivolous game with shoko grew into having a crush on the top player and him falling head over heels for you.

so you couldn't believe it when you found yourself in Paris, wearing a league shirt with his name on it and blue bracelets around your wrists, chanting along with the crowd. though a small part of you was afraid of what we cannot say, you knew that he had enough confidence for the two of you. your thoughts were confused by an immense pride and confidence that could only have come from the devil himself.

"nah, i’d win," he murmured to you before the game after kissing your cheek, which elicited a light-hearted shake of your head. he was competing for the gold medal in basketball, and while you would support him unconditionally regardless of the outcome, something inside you knew.

so as the game started and they promptly scored in the opposing team's basket, the entire stadium celebrated, as did you next to shoko, who had joined you in the stands after ending her shift as a stand-by doctor in case of an emergency at the olympics.

"doesn’t this remind you of when we joined their games as high schoolers?" you asked, turning your gaze towards her with a sweet smile. the happiness of wonderful recollections encircling your facial expressions, and she nodded. "the start of you ogling gojo? yes, it does." she joked, and you nudged her side, before the sound of another point rang throughout the stadium, and everyone stood up to shout for him and his team once again.

as the game went on, almost coming to its end and satoru kept getting in points nonchalantly as if he wasn’t being watched by the entire world, as if he was not competing for championship.

but as the bell rang to signal the end of the game, the entire crowd got up and applauded for the champions, as did you in a haze. you hadn't believed it yet, and your cheers were so loud that you tuned it out while embracing shoko, but your sight never left him. in fact, he had been looking at you since the bell rang, having discovered you standing in the stands without your knowledge.

it also struck you how he hadn't even waited for the medals to be handed out; instead, you saw your white-haired partner rush over to you with a smug grin that couldn't scream satoru any more than it already did. fortunately, you and shoko had special VIP tickets that allowed the two of you to be as close to the court as possible. he had quickly taken you up and lifted you, causing you to squeal before kissing him so passionately that you felt electrifying sparks coursing through your veins.

satoru smiled even broader into the kiss, raising you higher and whirling the two of you around. you couldn't bring yourself to care about the sound of cameras shuttering and the flashes that were so bright that they pained your eyes when you closed them.

you could only care about him.

and this moment.

you had finally let go of the kiss but not without missing the warmth on your lips as you squealed, “you fucking won, i’m so proud of you ‘toru. so, so proud of you!” you told him with disbelief yet pride written all over you and his chuckles tuned out everyone around you, almost letting you forget that he was spinning around and kissing you on national television.

he hadn’t cared about having his own moment on camera.

nor receiving the gold medal immediately.

no, he needed you as there was nothing else that came as close to being a prize like you.

you were his prize forever and always.

"i told you i'd win, darling." he remarked before lowering you down to the ground, but not before bringing you in by your waist again, laying a kiss on your forehead and then back on your lips. the grin on your faces had never faded, and you could almost hear shoko rolling her eyes at the public display of affection, but that just added to your excitement.

“i am so proud of you—holy shit. gold! i—" you began, still stunned by his victory, and there were no words to convey how you felt; nothing could justify how much he deserved this, as did his entire squad.

“i know, baby. thank you," he laughed, and his eyes shone so brightly that you could swear it lifted the entire stadium's spirit, as it did yours. he was still holding you close, and the journalists were pressing up against the two of you, desperate to capture this moment and entice your boyfriend into an immediate interview for their articles, but he didn't pay them any attention.

the only thing he did think about was you.

"go! go claim your award they’re waiting—" you stated with widened eyes, feeling slightly sorry that he had chosen you over the moment of instantly claiming his medal, but he rolled his eyes amusingly. he relaxed his grasp on you and patted your head. "as you wish, ma'am," satoru drawled, before bending in to whisper into your ear, his breath heated and making you flush.

“but you’re the prize i’m claiming tonight.”

with that, he squeezed your waist before sprinting back to join his teammates, and the camera swiftly snapped another image of you flushed and slightly dizzy from the spinning the two of you had just gone through, but it quickly turned into a joyous giggle as you cheered on your partner.

you couldn’t believe any of it.

the greatest in the league…

and he just comes running over to you.

bonus::

“oh my god, ‘toru look at this one!” you held up your phone towards him with an edit of the two of you made and posted on tiktok, already gaining a million likes. his expression softened at the sight of you, and especially of the two of you being together and it being broadcasted worldwide.

now there were even strangers rooting for the relationship the two of you had.

he pointed to your phone, letting out a laugh before drawing you closer. "look at you being all flustered," he mocked, causing you to grumble in frustration and playfully smack his bicep, never escape the moment being shared across all media, and satoru had most definitely not lived it down.

before you could say anything, he placed your phone on the bed and drew you onto his lap. he reached over to the nightstand and placed his gold medal on you. "’toru?" you asked, perplexed as your hands stretched for the medal, fiddling with it as you met his gaze.

“ssh, sweetheart. just admiring my prize.”

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saintlucretia · 7 months ago

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let's be real, he'd win manspreading olympics

#i mean LOOK.#i hate him but i AGHGGHAHHA #going feral #manspreading olympics #kai anderson #ahs hotel #ahs fandom #american horror story #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson smut #ahs cult #evan peters x reader #evan peters imagine #evan peters #manspreading #gaslight gatekeep girlblog #saintlucretia

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moonstruckme · 4 months ago

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hiiiiiiiii mae <3 i have an idea for thawing out series. what about if reader has a 'moment' w one of them and the other boy gets slightly cranky bc of it but then is also confused bc he doesn't know if he wants r or the other boy.........and then EPIPHANY 😈

Thanks for your request! The mood of it got altered some but I hope you like it :)

collab with @ellecdc

cw: modern au, chronic pain, some hurt w/o comfort but dw we'll fix it down the line

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 2.6k words

“Pads!” Remus shouts across the ice. “Focus!”

Sirius’ cheeks pinken slightly as he tears his stare away from the Russian soloist practicing her quads. You laugh and say something to him that makes him pinch your waist meanly, as if you’ve been acting any better.

You and Sirius are completely starstruck. Remus wants to be irritated at your distractibility, but it’s sort of adorable. You nearly fall on your bum watching the Austrian team run drills, Sirius is too busy eye-flirting with a Swedish skater to remember he’s supposed to be going into a turn, and you both stop your routine entirely when the Canadian duo steps out onto the ice.

You and Sirius draw plenty of stares yourselves, though naturally only Sirius appears to notice. He shoots a wink at a skater admiring him and a glare at another looking too closely at you, his hand possessively on your lower back anytime you’re not running your routine.

Altogether it means you have to spend a couple of extra hours learning to work through this specific brand of stage fright and running your drills again after you all get your heads turned multiple times, but Remus lets it slide. He remembers being just as dazzled during his first Olympics, seventeen years old and feeling like he’d somehow snuck into the hall of fame, an imposter among legends.

Part of him hopes that the embarrassment of having to do a half-ass death spiral in front of so many professionals will make Sirius finally go all the way, but no such luck. He keeps you firmly above where you ought to be, expression impassive even as Remus can see you pleading with him with your eyes. Still, the rest of the routine goes well, and Remus tries not to let it get under his skin. He hopes you’re right and Sirius really will pull through in the final hour; your faith in your partner is absolute, and Remus finds it easy to put his faith in you.

He lets you loose to spend the afternoon as you’d like, but it comes as no surprise when he sees you both on the ice again. Remus knows you’ve likely got plenty of nerves to work off. It’s one thing to compete in your home country, another entirely to represent your home country while competing amongst the best figure skaters in the world. He calls you off the ice before one of you can overexert yourselves and pull something. Sirius swears up and down that his ankle hasn’t bothered him since the day after he hurt it, and Remus hasn’t seen anything to make him suspect differently, but he knows better than to take risks with a healing injury. You spend the rest of the afternoon playing cards and gambling for candies in Sirius’ room.

Eventually you disperse to go to bed. Remus’ hip has been bothering him since the flight the previous day, so he goes on a walk to stretch it out. It’s odd, he thinks, how easy things have come to feel between the three of you. When he first arrived, Remus had every intention of setting up strict professional boundaries, of knowing you only as your coach and seeing you only during practice times. And then you started practicing together, and it seemed like his boundaries wouldn’t even be necessary. Sirius hated him, and besides that the two of you existed in a bubble no one could penetrate, intimate and trusting only each other. Now, after learning about what your former coach did to you, Remus understands why that was necessary. You were protecting each other, safeguarding your partnership and your careers. It would have made sense for you to keep Remus at more than an arm’s length, taking his coaching with grains of salt and keeping him well away from your private lives.

But then there have been days like today. Still bickering with Sirius, still watching the two of you interact with a familiarity only years of history can grant, but feeling warm and welcome despite it all. It feels easy, to tease Sirius and let him snipe back. To let you lean your shoulder into his and not move away. It feels good.

Remus’ hip is feeling fairly good too by the time he gets back, sore from the exercise but not so stiff. As he makes his way to his room, passing Sirius’ and then yours on the way, he sees light sneaking through the crack underneath your door.

He frowns. It’s late, and you’re meant to practice again early tomorrow morning, your last day of practice before you compete. You should be well rested. As he approaches your door, he hears sound coming from inside. Low, crackling voices, and a song that tugs at the fringes of his memory. Then a sound he knows too well, the shushing of skates on ice.

Remus knocks. The door is thin enough that he hears your little gasp and a quiet snap, and when you say “come in,” it sounds like a question.

He suppresses a smile, opening your door cautiously in case you didn’t really mean it.

You’re sitting on your bed, one hand atop your shut laptop. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he says, leaning against the doorway. “It’s late.”

“I know.” You look almost shy. Between that and the pajamas you have on, plaid little shorts and a bulky sweatshirt, Remus has the urge to pinch your chin between his fingers. “Sorry, I was just watching some, um…”

“Figure skating videos.” Your lips part, and he says, “I could hear them from outside.”

“Oh.” You laugh. It’s a nice sound, one Remus can happily say he’s come to know well, but this one is woven through with nerves. “That’s embarrassing.”

“Why is it embarrassing?” he asks honestly. “It’s normal to want to study your competition. And they’re fun, I still watch them all of the time.”

“It’s not…” You give him a tentative look, then scoot over on your bed. “Do you want to see?”

Remus can’t imagine you’re watching anything he hasn’t seen a million times, but he is curious which are your favorites. He’s careful to sit on top of your covers, a few inches between your leg and his. The bed doesn’t allow for anything more.

“Fuck, did they really have to go back to making them out of cardboard?”

That gets another nervous laugh out of you as you open your laptop screen, playing the video. And Remus knows then where he’s heard the music before. It’s his music. You’re watching his old routine, a niche one from a small competition back in Wales. Remus was fourteen when this was filmed.

He glances at you, and you’re watching the video with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, the colors of the screen dancing across your eyes.

“I’ve always admired how tight your form was,” you say. “You were so young, but it was obvious you were putting the work in.”

“I practiced a lot,” Remus agrees. “Too much, really.”

The nostalgia he feels for figure skating is bittersweet when he watches videos like this. He remembers spending all his time in the rink, every hour he wasn’t in school or at home, nothing spared for friends or hobbies. He did love it, but in loving it he forgot to build a life outside of it. Life was constant motion, training and competitions and awards whirling around him like the rink during a spin; by the time he had his accident anyone that might have been his friend had their own friends, and Remus realized he may have been lonely for years.

“I’m really glad you agreed to coach us.” You’re still watching the video, young Remus doing a camel spin. “You’ve made us a lot better, both of us. I know Sirius is going to end up fixing the spiral, and I’m going to try my best, and…I really hope we can make you proud.”

“You will,” Remus says, instead of you already do. It feels wrong to take any credit for how incredible you are, either one of you, but that is what he feels when he sees you out on the ice. Proud. He looks at you carefully. “You’ve seemed wound pretty tightly lately.”

Your eyes drop, no longer looking at young Remus but not at the older one either.

“It’s alright to be nervous,” he says gently, “so long as you know that you deserve to be here. You’re going to do great.”

You rub your lips together. “Were you nervous during your Olympics? Is it okay for you to talk about?”

“Yeah,” Remus says, a bit surprised, “it’s fine. I was nervous. I was…” he chuckles “I was freaking out, honestly. But when I got out there, it was really just like any rink. The music and the routine were the same, so I just let myself get lost in it. I almost forgot where I was until it was over, and people were waving flags at me and all that from the stands.” He feels his lips curve with the memory. Bumps your shoulder lightly with his. “It’s not so bad. Anyway, I think it’s got to be better to go through it with someone else. I was on my own, but you’ll have Sirius with you.”

You give him a little sideways smile. “And you, right?”

A fond warmth blooms in Remus’ chest. “And me.”

“Has it been difficult for you to coach us?” you ask him tentatively. “I mean, to come back?”

Remus takes a deep breath. “Yeah,” he says after a minute. “At first, it really was. I’m not proud of it, and I don’t think I really knew it at the time, but I was jealous of both of you. Anytime you did something differently than I would have, I got so frustrated that you were throwing away these opportunities I would kill to have again. It was easy to look at either one of you and wish I was in your place.”

You’re nodding, not a trace of hurt or offense in your expression. You look at him like you understand.

“But that stopped a long time ago,” he says. “After I worked with you for longer, it became clear you’re both very different skaters than I was.” You huff a laugh, and Remus nudges your shoulder admonishingly. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing. I think early on I wasn’t a very good coach to you because I couldn’t see your individual strengths. But now I think I can, and it’s really a privilege to watch you skate together. It’s lovely. And I’ve loved getting to know you and Sirius, too. So, yeah, it was difficult at first, but I’m really glad I came on. And I’m glad you were patient enough to let me stay.”

That got a bit more earnest than he intended. Remus feels heat rise to his face, but you’re still nodding, thoughtful, like you’re trying to wrap your head around it. He sees you rub your lips together again.

“I really want to do well,” you say softly, “but I’m not the skater Sirius is. I don’t have his natural talent, and I don’t flourish under pressure the way he does. I—that’s usually when I mess up.” Remus’ chest aches at the vulnerability in your voice, his hand moving unconsciously to cover yours on the bed. Some of the tension goes out of you at the touch. “I’ve tried my whole life to keep up with him, but I’m never quite there, and you guys, you’ve both been these incredible, talented skaters…” Your eyes meet his, timid and ashamed. “I’m afraid I’m going to let you both down.”

“Are you kidding?” You drop your gaze, and a surprised little laugh trips off Remus’ tongue as he ducks his head to follow, holding your hand more securely. “I’m sorry, that was rash, but really. How can you think that? You’re one of the most talented skaters I’ve ever seen.”

You’re still avoiding his gaze. He takes your chin in his hand, gentle, an encouragement more than anything, but you let him turn you towards him.

“I don’t care how much of it comes from natural aptitude,” he says firmly. “You’re an incredible skater. Even when I didn’t know you at all, it was obvious that you care about this more than Sirius or I likely ever have. That’s important. You can see it in how hard you train, and in how you move on the ice.” Remus shakes his head, expelling a breath. “It’s mesmerizing. You’re beautiful to watch.”

You’re not shying away from him now, but Remus doesn’t let go of you. Your expression is wide open, diffident but curious. He goes on.

“The way you skate, it’s not just about the motions or the art of it, it’s joyous. Anyone can see how happy you are out there. That’s what makes you so good. You really love it.”

“You did, too,” you murmur.

His voice softens in kind. “I did. But not the way you do.”

Your eyes lower, but this time he allows you it. Remus is suddenly acutely aware of your leg where it's pressed up against his, of his own heartbeat. He’s still holding your hand.

You wet your lips. “Do you really mean all that?”

“Why would I give you a whole speech I didn’t believe?”

You crack a smile. “Some coaches call it a pep talk.”

“You’re beautiful to watch,” he says again, voice dropping to a murmur as he realizes you’re staring at his lips. He breathes in, and the distance between you lessens. “You’re beautiful.”

Remus knows he’s judged you rightly when your hand comes around his waist, pressing into the softness of his jumper to glean an impression of the skin underneath. You kiss like you skate, with a sweet eagerness, ready to explore and wanting to learn. Your lips part, inspiring a similar parting in Remus, and you let out a breath with a soft humming sound.

Remus' nerves are alight underneath your hand on his side. He angles his torso to get you closer, free hand coasting up your thigh. Your fingers bunch in his jumper, kisses picking up heat as he lets his hand settle at the small of your back, an echo of how Sirius touched you this morning when—

Sirius.

Remus draws away from you so suddenly he hears you gasp. He still has your face in his hand, can feel the flustered warmth of it before he removes that too, putting distance between you.

“Sorry.” His voice is hoarse. Guilt burns in the back of his throat. “Sorry, it’s not you. I just, I—”

Sirius. Sirius. Sirius.

“I didn’t think that through.” He can feel his heartbeat in his mouth. Sirius is in love with you. Remus is only just starting to feel like a part of your team, but this could send you all back in time. Kissing one of his skaters, who the other is in love with? His stomach hurts. “I’m your coach, and you—we have a big competition coming up. I shouldn’t have done that.”

He edges off your bed, looking at you while he does. Your lips are still parted, eyes wide.

“It was a really shit idea,” he says, “and I’m so sorry. It’s my fault.”

You rub your lips together. Remus feels it like you’re still moving them against his own. “It’s fine,” you say on a breath. “We can forget it.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says again.

“It’s okay.” You’re shaking your head, and he’s backing away, both of you like deer caught in headlights. “You’re right, it was silly. We’re professionals, we can get past it.”

Remus feels himself nodding, feels the handle of your door in his hand.

“Practice in the morning?” you ask weakly.

He pushes out a breath as he opens the door. “Yeah. Six thirty.”

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