#pitch perfect cast so far

[note-a-bear]

Just put on KAOS and yeah, it's a win for me

[heavenbarnes]

anyways, as i was saying about older bf!simon and his willingness to please learn

pt 2 to this

“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”

obviously, he hasn’t- far as he’s concerned, if you haven’t told him about it then it doesn’t exist to him.

no skin off your nose, you’d spend the rest of your life teaching him about the ‘latest trends’ if it meant he kept sending those filthy fucking videos to your phone.

(your favourites on tiktok were purely filled with ideas)

he’s holed up in a remote location, killing time till he can be home and actually do something to you rather than send you a bloody video about it.

your instructions come through clear and concise, just how he likes:

“it’s what’s written on the can, si- you can pick the setup but i just want to see you cum and, most importantly, i want to hear it”

you’re lucky simon is such a practical guy and maybe you could thank price one day for making him so good at following orders.

when he’s got his alone time he’s setting his phone up to record on the edge of the window sill, moonlight fighting through the curtain to illuminate him.

he’s lost the bulkiest of his gear, down to his tactical trousers and a compression t-shirt. the images in his tattoo sleeve almost move when the light catches them right.

balaclava on (the one that just shows his eyes above the painted image of a skull) and he’s standing up to undo his belt (that you think looks like an airplane seatbelt).

you can hear his boots against the floorboard as he steps back to give you the full view of him undoing his trousers, taking his sweet time because he knows it drives you fucking batty.

he’s so big that the phone is working overtime to get all of him in the frame but you see exactly what you need to- thick thighs at your eye line and massive hands drawing down his fly.

on (you assume) the other side of the globe, you’re at home in your shared bed and you’re propped up right in the middle with the smell of simon engulfing you as you watch the video play out before you.

(if you’d thought about it you should’ve cast it to the bedroom tv, hoping the neighbours didn’t mind)

simon sits back down with his legs spread wide, one hand gripping his thigh as the other rubs himself over his boxers. his eye contact with the camera was fucking intense, like you’d hoped, just like when he’s on top of you.

he’s dressed in all black and the moonlight is obscured but you can still see him firming up in his pants. his eyes flutter, an infinitesimal amount but you’ve been tuned into his every move since you met him.

your thumb leans hard on the volume up button and you can hear the diegetic sound of the building expanding and that usual technical hum that comes with a video. but at this pitch, you could hear him.

his breathing was chopped, chest expanding visibly as he pulled his cock out into clear view. jeeeeesus christ, it was never something you just got used to.

long, reasonably straight, fucking thick. even his hand struggled to make it look smaller as he wrapped around it, giving one dry tug.

as he closed his palm over the tip, you saw him make a swipe before he brought his hand back down considerably smoother than before. you’d had your hands down his pants enough times, man leaked like a fucking faucet.

simon’s head tipped back as he started to pull himself off, balaclava raising just enough to expose some of his throat. if you were there you would be perched in his lap, letting him do the work but running your tongue under the lip of the fabric.

one of the best things about the videos simon sent was, he didn’t really understand how sexy he was. he didn’t think any of the videos particularly watchable so he’d just send them on first take. if you liked them, you liked them- yours was the only opinion that mattered.

what that meant was, you never got b-roll. everything he sent you was unbridled perfection. captured exactly as it happens with no faffing about.

always whatever you’ve asked for, whenever you ask.

(simon’s nothing if not inexplicably obedient)

he brings his hand under his chin to spit into the wide span of his palm, wrapping back around his cock and tugging. his foreskin moved over the head, rolling back down and thick veins bulging under his grasp.

you’d almost forgotten the conditions of your request, totally fucking enamoured by the sight in front of you when it caught you off guard.

a guttural moan ripped out of simon’s chest as he twisted his wrist.

his free hand moved to cup his balls, big and heavy, he rolled them in his palm as another groan sounded out of him. what you wouldn’t give to be knelt between his thighs with the whole lot in your mouth.

you knew how much of an ask this was, you really had to work him up to making noise when it was just you two in bed. these days? you couldn’t shut the man up when he was balls deep and his face was buried in the crook of your neck.

but this was another step, this was him on his own with his crew just through the walls. he’d be a plain liar if he said there wasn’t that rumbling trepidation in his chest. he’d put it to bed though.

all he had to think of was you, one hand gripping your phone and the other between your thighs as you watched him through with a hazy smile- that kept him going.

with the thought still heavy on his mind, you didn’t have to strain to hear your name drift off his lips. his hips bucked into his hand as he did, speeding up the motion of his strokes.

you were going to black out, his tattoos flexing and his chest expanding with every stuttered breath. simon looked like a god among men and he fucking sounded like one too.

“fuck, sweetheart- you’re so fucking filthy giving me orders like this”

your cheeks were burning, he wasn’t wrong but you weren’t expecting him to call you out quite like this.

“what does that make me? always so fucking eager to do what you say? make a dirty old man, yeah?”

wheeeeeew that’ll do it, your thighs snapped together around your hand as your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. whenever you thought you couldn’t take any more, he was always there to do you one better.

“only for you, pet- you can always get whatever you fucking want from me”

and you knew he was serious, that’s what made it all the more debilitating. simon was unshakeable, you’d seen him go out of his way to defy orders if he didn’t think the person worth his time.

when it came to you? you could tell him to kill and he would.

(he probably had)

simon’s hips were twitching, back arching in a way he’d rather die than have anyone else know about. his mouth was hanging open beneath the balaclava, your name and a string of expletives falling off his tongue.

so quick you nearly missed it, the hand that was cradling his balls moved to grip the fabric of his shirt and push it up his toned front. you couldn’t call his abs cut and defined, there was aged layer to them, but they were undeniably there.

you’d rested your head on them, pressed your palms against them, even ridden them enough times to know they were there. regardless, he looked fucking perfect under the moon glow as he stroked himself hard and long.

eyes locked onto the camera, broken moans on his lips, you saw his hips lift one last time as thick spurts of cum began to paint his stomach and chest.

scars illuminated under the night sky, mirrored by shiny patches of hot cum splattered across the same stretch of skin. the hairs on his chest were matted with sweat and were now being splashed with how far he was shooting.

you could only watch with your mouth hung open as he tugged himself through his orgasm. soon it was only the sound of his laboured breathing, chest rising and falling as he tucked his soft cock back into his pants.

just when you thought that was it, you found one of his hands lifting up the edge of his balaclava till his lips were exposed. two fingers of his other hand swiped up some of his spend before he lay them on his tongue.

knuckles in your mouth, biting down to suppress a scream, simon readjusted his clothes as he stood and took a heavy step towards the camera.

one hand braced on the window sill, the other gently gripping himself through his trousers- his voice was so fucking gravely it could’ve reverberated round your room.

“what’s next sweet’art? you name it, it’s yours”

[distantdarlings]

OUT OF IT // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.4K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* Theodore Nott has been your best friend for years, but the closeness that you’ve gained throughout your friendship proves to be a little too intimate for the two of you to handle.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! PIV - no protection, fingering, light nipple play (f!receiving), dirty talk, tension, top!Theo, bottom!Reader, fem reader, language, super NOT proofread (lmk if I missed anything!)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Again (Sped Up) - Noah Cyrus

(Okay! So prep for this was super rushed bc I am about to go on vacation and just got done with a ton of work. I’m very sorry this is so quick and frazzled—hopefully you all can look past it. Thanks for your patience.)

- - -

The dimly-lit corridors always felt so cozy around this time of the evening. The skies outside were pitch black and the only form of light was the flickering, honeyed candles mounted to the stone walls every few paces or so. A rather clever spell had been cast on them to keep them from dripping wax all over the floors.

You combed your fingers through your hair, letting the strands slide across your skin. Keeping your hair pinned up always gave you just a bit of a headache, but being able to take it down after classes was a relief like no other. Your fingernails scratched lightly over your scalp in an attempt to reestablish some blood flow throughout.

After a particularly difficult day, you wanted nothing more than to eat a quick dinner and then crash into your bed. You felt as if you’d been going non-stop since waking up this morning with nothing but a bagel and some tea in your stomach for the whole day. You were sure if you spoke to a muggle physician, they’d have some choice words for you. You could practically feel the dark circle sprouting beneath your eyes.

You turned one final candle-adorned hallway before arriving in front of the Great Hall. You arrived on the later side of the allotted dinner times, but you knew the food would stay on the table until the last student who intended to eat arrived. That was part of Hogwart’s lovely charm.

A wave of warmth from the fireplace in the corner washed over you like a blanket. The sudden temperature change brought on a case of chills across your body. A small shudder flowed through you.

Your eyes scanned the table on the far end of the room—its dark wooden surface topped with deep green runners and dishes of food. Sitting alongside the farthest end of the table were the most familiar faces in the entire school. A gentle smile appeared across your lips at the sight of your friends chatting and laughing together.

You approached the table with the same smile painted on. As you drew closer and caught a few eyes, you raised your hand for a polite wave. All of a sudden, you were a bit more awake than you had been.

A set of bright eyes turned and locked with yours, prompting a jolt of energy through your chest. You settled in next to the owner of those special eyes, allowing him to wrap his arm around you and pull you in close.

“How are you, tesoro?” Theo asked, pressing a small kiss to the side of your head.

“It was good. What about you?” you asked. He shrugged and flashed you a smile. He’d never been one to talk much about his day.

You gathered some food onto your plate, Theo never taking his arm from around you even when he went back to eating.

“So, how was everyone’s day?” Enzo asked cheekily, eyeing the two of you. The young man in front of you had always had a deep insistence that you and Theodore Nott would be the perfect couple.

“You’re perfect for each other,” he would say. “You compliment each other so well, plus you’re already so comfortable around each other!” To which, you’d always laugh and shake your head, only mostly ignoring the fantasies that would twirl through your mind after the fact.

You were not going to date Theodore Nott. He was your best friend—had been for years.

“Fine, thanks,” you replied snarkily, popping some kind of berry into your mouth. It crunched between your teeth pleasantly, bleeding dark, sweet juice. It was unlike any other fruits you’d ever tasted, but you never knew what you were going to taste at Hogwarts.

“Mm, you’ve got a bit of—” Theo started. Still chewing on a bit of food, he ran the thumb of his free hand over the corner of your lip and promptly placed it against his tongue. He sucked the flavor off of his skin, then turned back to his dinner.

It didn’t much bother you, just ignited a bit of heat against the wall of your gut. Mattheo and Enzo, however, acted like they’d just seen someone hurl into the dinner bowls.

“Hello, friends!”

The group turned to face Pansy Parkinson. A dainty, but lean girl with striking black hair cut across her cheeks in sharp, even lines. She was truly one of your only female friends, considering how often you hung around a male party.

“Hey, Pans!” The group chorused, offering lazy waves and full-mouthed smiles. She smiled a bit and took a seat next to Enzo. She selected an apple from the bowl just before her and took a large chunk out of it, her pale eyes flicking around the table.

“Why are you all so quiet?” she mumbled around chunks of apple.

Enzo snuck his arm down beneath the table and discreetly bumped Pansy’s ribs with his elbow twice. They were sure you hadn’t seen their little gesture that translated to ‘I’ll fill you in later,’ but you most definitely had.

You struggled not to roll your eyes as you knew they’d gossip for hours about how you and Theo would be the perfect couple. Honestly, it used to bother you a bit, knowing your friends were talking about you behind your back. But with a quick and direct questioning of Enzo, you realized that they weren’t so much gossiping about you as they were rooting for you. Their support didn’t matter, though. You would not be dating Theodore Nott.

***

That night, as you had begun to settle in for bed, you found yourself thinking of Theo. You always thought of him around bed time. There was never really a time when your best friend wasn’t floating around your head, but at night, when you were recapping your day, you thought of him.

Theo had a nasty habit of popping into your head at the worst of times. During tests, holidays with your families, your dreams, and even when you…when you would get into bed and slide the velvet drapes hung around the frame shut, and let your hands slide beneath the covers.

You swallowed thickly at the thought. You would not be dating Theodore Nott. No matter if he did cross your mind when you touched yourself. You inhaled shakily and slid beneath the covers, ignoring the ache in your chest and the pulsing between your legs.

***

The next morning, you found yourself wandering down to the Great Hall just as you had done the night before for dinner.

And just like last night, Pansy, Enzo, Mattheo, and Theo were waiting for you just like they always were.

You slid into the space beside Theo and laid a sleepy head against his shoulder, letting a slightly dramatic huff out.

“Oh dear, looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Theo teased, placing a kiss to the top of your head. The audience members before you each made a different face at the show of affection. It never bothered you and it had seemingly never bothers Theo, but your friends had a habit of turning it into something it didn’t need to be.

“Yes, I did,” you sighed. “I barely slept a wink last night—I was tossing and turning all night.” Which was not a lie, but a bit of an understatement. Your sleep had been plagued with visions of Theo.

Theo looking at you, Theo kissing you, Theo touching you, Theo Theo Theo. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Theo looked down at you. You met his eyes.

“Is everything alright?” he asked.

“Yes, why?”

“You’re clenching my arm really hard,” he chuckled, glancing down at your clutched fist around his arm. Oh. You quickly let go of him and apologized, embarrassed that he was having such a physical effect on you. You’d never been so distracted before. Sure, you’d had these thoughts of Theo before but it had never affected you in your everyday life, and certainly not in front of him.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Enzo interrupted. You turned and the three sitting across from you all seemed to be staring with concern.

“You seem out of it…,” Mattheo said, looking you up and down. Pansy voiced a small agreement.

“I’m fine,” you chuckled nervously. Theo placed a hand on your back and began to rub comforting circles around the center of your spine.

His touch against you was almost too much to bear.

You shied away from him and, forcing a smile, you got to your feet and quickly excused yourself. You knew if you looked back, all of them would still be staring at you but you needed to get away. Theo’s hand on your back was nearly enough to make you come undone.

These altered feelings of him had your mind running haywire.

You scurried off down the halls, twisting and turning, and avoiding any and everyone. The Slytherin dungeons weren’t that far from the Great Hall, but every step you took made the hallway feel as if it was elongating. It felt as though you would never reach it and as if you’d be walking for the rest of eternity, when you came upon the secret entrance.

You mumbled the password then slipped through the doorway.

Other than a few scattered students, there was practically no one in the common room. Hopefully you’d be able to get a bit of privacy upstairs in your bedroom.

Thoughts of Theo swirled around your head, threatening to fall in on you and drown you in your own desire. You had no idea why he was having such an effect on you.

Once you came upon the door to your dorm, you pushed through the door, slammed it quickly behind you, and collapsed onto your bed. A quick survey of the room told you that it was empty, except for your panting body.

You set yourself against your pillows, drawing your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. If you kept having such an issue, you were just going to have to avoid your friends for the next few days.

You refused to let any silly thoughts get in the way of your friendship with Theo. You’d had plenty of intrusive thoughts pertaining to him in the past. That didn’t mean you were in love with him or had any feelings for him other than platonic. People had weird thoughts about their friends all of the time—it didn’t make them true.

A knock on the door drove its way through your train of thought. A small jolt ran through your body at the sudden sound.

Assuming it was just one of your roommates, you invited them in. But one of your roommates did not walk through the door. Theo did.

Upon seeing him, you shot up to a sitting position almost immediately.

“Theo—I didn’t know it was you, I’d really like to be alone right now if—”

“That’s fine. I’ll leave as soon as you tell me what’s wrong.”

His eyes were stern with his jaw clenched tightly, the muscle running across the bone rippling with every grind of his teeth. If you didn’t know this boy like the back of your hand, you might’ve mistook his concern for fury.

“Nothing’s wrong. Like I said, I’m just tired.”

“There’s something else,” he spoke. “I can tell. I’ve known you for nearly as long as I’ve been alive. Do you seriously think I can’t tell when something’s bothering you? You brushed away my hand, you—you barely looked at me earlier. You’ve never, ever turned me away like that—and if you decide you’re done with me, w-with us—that’s fine, but I deserve an explanation.” He stepped forward and left nothing but a few inches between the two of you. “I demand one.”

His ramble ended with deep, heaving breaths, his eyes staring down at you with longing and panic, and your saliva nearly getting caught in your throat. If you hadn’t closed your mouth that had been gaping open, you might’ve choked.

He stood so closely, you could feel his breaths on your chest. You attempted to avoid his eyes but it was as if he’d locked you to him. You couldn’t pull away.

“Theo, I’m not…done with you,” you exhaled shakily, “I always want you.”

His eyes softened a bit.

“Er, to be here with me as my friend!” you gasped out quickly, trying to ease the landing of the borderline confession you’d just spouted out.

His mouth dropped a bit as he seemed almost disappointed. Surely he didn’t feel the same way.

“What if I want to be here with you…but as more than just a friend,” he whispered. His deep voice rumbled beneath the pressure of his chapped lips. You couldn’t help but glance down at them briefly.

Once you had, his breath hitched in his throat just a bit, and you knew he’d seen you. You knew he’d seen your eyes dart from his deep, crystalline eyes to his barely parted lips. His tongue swiped over his bottom lip, just enough to grant them some hydration from how deeply the two of you had been breathing. A shudder passed through you at the sight.

“What’s…more than a friend?” you breathed, your voice wavering as you found it increasingly harder to pull your eyes away from his lips.

What a stupid thing to ask.

“I want to show you what it is,” he said. “I want you to feel what more than a friend is.”

You almost jumped out of your skin when the tips of his fingers brushed against your forearm. He seemed to be testing the waters and, though your reaction wasn’t exactly calm, must have decided that it was okay to move forward again. The fingers from the opposite hand brushed alongside your other arm.

“Let me show you what it feels like,” he whispered.

“I don’t want to lose anything we have because of one stupid mistake—because we couldn’t control ourselves,” you said, biting your lip nervously. You knew it was a cruel thing to say but it was the truth. Theo was the best thing that had ever happened to you, even before you couldn’t escape the feeling of his eyes on you.

“I won’t let anything change us,” he said. “Let me give you all of me before you decide you need some of me.”

Shakily, you pressed your lips together and nodded slowly. You were all his.

He smiled just a bit, a shaking breath pushing through his lips as if he’d been holding it for a while.

His hands were slow and patient, carefully mapping out every place he intended to touch and ensuring that it was completely okay with you before doing so.

Fingers traced over your hips and across your ribs through your uniform shirt. Even through the material, you felt his simulated touch eliciting chills across your stomach and arms. He smirked a bit at the way the small hairs there stood up.

“Can I touch your skin?” he asked, his eyes finding yours. You nodded in response.

At your immediate consent, he took no time in easing the hem of your shirt out from beneath your skirt. The tucked-in material had created indentations along your flesh from pressing into it all day. His fingers traced along the swirls of marks across your hips.

His hot skin on yours was nearly too much to handle—you swore you felt your knees buckle.

After the initial shyness of skin-on-skin, you could feel Theo’s hands splay wide on either side of your hips and move across your abdomen and all the way to the back. His fingers brushed across the strap of your bra just as a raging heat split your stomach in two.

“Can I?” he asked. Of course, you nodded.

With a second set of permissions, he felt even bolder. He sucked in a strong breath and, with quick and intense movements, brought his hands out from beneath your shirt and began to unfasten the buttons.

With each button he pulled open, he placed a hot kiss to the skin revealed. Your breaths came in deep heaves, your chest lurching towards him pathetically.

His tongue brushed over the cleavage split evenly by the pressure of your bra. With your chest nearly completely revealed to him, Theo’s eyes darkened severely.

His eyes found yours again. The two of you regained consciousness for only a moment to realize where you were and what you were doing, before you clasped your hands around his head and pulled his mouth to yours.

With a fiery desire, he slipped his hands beneath your thighs and, with subtle clumsiness, lifted you off the floor just enough to push you up against the stone wall in the corner.

A shy moan slipped from between your lips at the feeling of your body trapped in between him and the wall.

His lips devoured yours like a man starved. He drank up every drop of saliva granted by each slide of your tongue along his, never wasting a single bit. His hands gripped at you mercilessly—at your hips, your chest, your ass. It wasn’t long before your shirt was completely unbuttoned and slid messily down your shoulders and your shoes slipped off and kicked somewhere into the corner.

As the two of you took a moment to breath, noses pressed to each other and breaths intermingling, Theo contemplated his next moves.

“I want to take care of you,” he heaved, a bead of sweat sliding down his sharply detailed throat.

“Please… have me as you will,” you whined, hardly able to stand being away from him in these few seconds.

The sounds of your begging did nothing but urge him forward, cutting through every strap of restraint he may have still had. He fucking loved it.

“Let me make you feel good,” he whispered.

He slid his finger down across your neck, tightening his grip just barely around your throat, then sliding them down across your breasts. He kneaded the sore tissue there, reveling in the way your lips parted at the feeling.

His fingers slid over the metal clasp that sat squarely between your breasts, shining in the firelight, waiting for him to separate it.

Before touching your chest any further, he wrapped his hands around your thighs once more and wrapped them around his waist, balancing you against the wall behind you.

His fingers then returned to their post at your bra and effortlessly split the clasp. The pressure of your breasts popped the fabric apart, quickly revealing your chest to the boy before you.

He moaned at the sight of your gorgeous chest and could not resist from placing his lips around each nipple, swirling his tongue around them perfectly. Your head fell back against the wall, your hands clutching at this hair, your legs wrapped around his body.

“You’re so perfect—gonna make you feel so good,” he mumbled.

His hands and lips reluctantly separated from your chest and pulled you away from the wall for just a moment. He walked you over to the recession in the wall where the windowsill waited for your body weight.

The drapes were pulled together but you imagined that you wouldn’t be so angry if they weren’t.

Theo set you down against the cool stone and slid your hips against him.

With no regard for what you were going to do for your next day of classes, he roughly split your tights to reveal the bottoms beneath.

He let out a moan at the sight of you—you were better than he’d ever imagined.

Flipping your skirt up, he traced a single, trained finger over the slit of fabric covering the most sensitive part of your body. You let out a wavering moan at the sensation, gripping onto his shoulders tightly.

“Please, Theo, no more teasing,” you groaned, sliding your hips closer to his. The motion pressed your core against his, creating a type of friction that was more than delicious. The both of you paused and shuddered against each other’s mouth.

If Theo had any restraint left in his body, it was this that destroyed it.

He slid a finger beneath the material of your bottoms and slid them to the side, revealing you to the cool air. You shuddered a bit at the feeling, not prepared for the sudden change in temperature.

He traced his fingers along your folds again, collecting slicks of moisture along them. You could barely keep up with his pace, not sure whether to moan or cry or beg for more.

Once soaked enough, he slid a finger into you, allowing you to stretch around it. You cried out to the night air, clutching at his shirt like you might slip away from this world if he kept easing you open just as he was.

There were blinks of time where he’d slip another finger in just beside the other, stretching you farther than you’d ever been before, but you could hardly grasp where you were in time and space. All you could feel, think, smell, hear, taste was Theodore Nott.

When years had passed and he’d built you up to your climax twice already, he decided that he was ready to give you all of him.

The layer of sweat across your body and cloud of exhaustion that plagued your mind seemed to be no obstacle for a still very wired Theo. He was ready to fuck himself into you until you were begging for mercy. He’d been waiting for this for years.

“Turn over for me, sweetheart,” he said lovingly, a stark contrast to the brutality with which he’d worked you apart.

Slow-moving from exhaustion but still eager for more of his touch, you forced yourself onto your stomach. Your hands gripped onto the drapes for some sense of purchase—hopefully they wouldn’t collapse down around the two of you, revealing both of your bodies to the world.

When the rustling of his clothing and the clinking of his belt hit your ears, the entire lower half of your body twinged in anticipation. You gasped lowly as his hands slipped beneath your skirt, slowly smoothing his fingers over the fabric of your bottoms before gripping them and sliding them down your legs.

He allowed you to step out of them before he pushed you back up against the stone and slid himself across your entrance. You sucked in a breath sharply at the sensation, your fingers digging into the canvas drapes so tightly they burned white around the knuckles.

One hand gripped your bare hips while the other slowly guided himself into you all the way to the hilt. The slow stretch he had provided you before was nothing compared to the fire burning below now. Your eyes clenched shut, bursts of tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Breathe, bella,” he groaned softly as he allowed you to adjust while refraining from going as fast and as hard as he could.

It took only a moment before you asked him to move, and begged him to claim you fully. And then he was controlling every inch of what you received, ruthlessly, yet lovingly.

The silence of the room was filled with his breathless groans, your stuttering words, and the force of his hips hitting yours. You’d hardly be able to stand if it weren’t for his strong hands holding your hips up, keeping you just where he wanted you for each force of his hips.

With each passing second, you found your grip on the fabric above you becoming weaker and your ability to hold yourself up diminishing. With the pace he’d set, you’d be finishing any minute and he knew it.

And by the way his speed stuttered every so often and his hands gripped onto the fabric of your skirt, you figured he couldn’t be far behind you.

Your naked breasts lightly scraped against the stone with every push from behind, rubbing the sensitive skin just enough to push you over your edge and crash within yourself. You cried out from the force of the pleasure that hit you.

As soon as you had managed to finish against him, the tightening of your muscles tipped him over the cliff side he stood atop, forcing him to the waves below.

He worked himself through his climax before slowing to a stop and collapsing against you. The sweat on your skin mingled together, creating a hot seal between your bodies. You could hardly catch your breath between the windowsill pressed against you and the strong man behind you.

“Theo,” you whined. “Get off…”

He responded with a huff and a moment’s silence, before pushing off of you. Your skin separated with a sticky pull.

He gently pulled you away from the window, slid your messed skirt down and helped you slide into your bed. He slid in next to you for just a moment.

“I think I’m about to pass out and sleep for the next 48 hours,” you chuckled lazily.

“Would you say I gave enough of myself?” he smirked, brushing a strand away from your forehead.

“I’d say it was more than enough,” you said, rolling your eyes at his confidence.

“Well, I’m yours anytime you want me.” He pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, before getting to his feet and beginning to redress.

“No,” you fussed. “Why are you leaving?”

“Because it’s the middle of the day and I’m missing my classes,” he laughed, tightening his belt back to its proper place.

“I am too—just skip with me today,” you begged.

“No, darling, I’ve got to get back to class. I’ve got too many assignments due today. I’ll let them know you won’t be making it in today, though.”

“What are you going to tell them if they ask?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Mm, I’ll let them know that you had a rough morning and you’re gonna sleep it off.”

He smirked meanly before slipping through the dorm door and leaving you in silence, bundled up in your bed and nearly too tired to even try and get ready for classes.

One day off wouldn’t be too big of a deal.

- - -

Tag List: @lilymurphy03 , @mypolicemanharryyy , @clairesjointshurt , @bunbunbl0gs , @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303 , @thestarlithideout , @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw , @yhiiil, @ravenclawprincess33 , @xxrougefangxx , @thatblackthorn, @robinyx , @starsval , @jolly4holly , @blvebanisters , @chgrch, @abaker74, @ilovehotmenandwoman, @kissesbyarabella, @synicaljah (If you would like to be added to the tag list, please shoot me a DM! Thanks!)

[julietsf1]

Love at first fright (🎃) - Franco Colapinto x Reader

Summary: You don’t know what is scarier, the haunted house where you are interviewing Franco or the way your heart speeds up around him.

Content: cute, journalist!reader

AN: An early halloween treat 🤍 If you guys have cool costume ideas you’re gonna do lmk! have a lovely day sweeties

_____________________________

I’ve interviewed a lot of athletes over the years—serious, stoic, some even downright boring—but Franco Colapinto? He’s my favorite by far. The guy is a natural on camera, always quick-witted, always charming. And, okay, I’d be lying if I said his smile didn’t make it easier to look forward to these interviews. He’s cute, in that effortless way that pulls you in before you even realize it.

Which is why, when I pitched the idea of interviewing him in a haunted house for Halloween, I wasn’t surprised when he immediately said yes. Franco loves goofing around almost as much as he loves racing.

“So, Franco,” I start, grinning as I hold up my mic, “if you weren’t a racing driver, what would you be doing for Halloween?”

We’re standing at the entrance of the haunted house, the camera crew buzzing around us, adjusting their lights and equipment. Franco’s green eyes flicker with amusement as he shoots a glance at the haunted house looming behind us.

“I think I’d watch a scary movie,” he says, that mischievous grin of his spreading across his face. “Or maybe I’d just go scare Lando during one of his livestreams. Seems like a good use of my time.”

I laugh, already caught up in his energy. This is why I love interviewing him—there’s never a dull moment. “Honestly, I’d pay to see that. But tonight, it’s all about you. Ready to face your fears?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Fears? Me? Please.”

I roll my eyes, but it’s hard not to smile when he’s like this—so playful, so at ease. “We’ll see about that. Let’s get going.”

We step inside, and the door creaks ominously behind us. The camera crew follows, their lights casting long, eerie shadows along the corridor. Fake cobwebs hang from the ceiling, and the sound of distant screams echoes through the halls.

“Spooky,” Franco says, looking around with an approving nod. “Nice setup. You pick this place yourself?”

“Of course,” I reply, glancing around. “Only the best for you.”

He grins, nudging me lightly with his elbow. “So much effort. I knew I am your favorite.”

I shoot him a mock glare, even though my heart skips a little at the comment. “You wish, Colapinto.”

“Oh, I don’t need to wish,” he quips back, his tone teasing. “I can tell.”

I shake my head, trying to focus on the interview. “Okay, back to business. What’s your biggest weakness—on the track or in a haunted house?”

Franco laughs, the sound echoing in the dimly lit hallway. “Weakness? You’re really trying to get something out of me, aren’t you?”

“It’s my job,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, give me something.”

He shrugs, playing along. “Alright, fine. My biggest weakness? Probably pizza. Or maybe rom-coms.”

“Really?” I ask, surprised but laughing. “I didn’t take you for the romantic type.”

“Hey, there’s more to me than racing and being good looking,” he says, his grin widening. “I’m full of surprises.”

“Clearly,” I mutter, trying to keep my cool as we walk further into the haunted house. It’s starting to get darker, the lights dimming as the creepy sound effects grow louder. I was starting to question why I chose a haunted house as the perfect location.

We pass through a corridor with skeletons lining the walls, and Franco glances over at me, his eyes gleaming. “You scared yet?”

“Not a chance,” I say, though my heart is starting to race just a little. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“Good to know,” he replies, his voice low and teasing. “Just in case, I’m here to protect you, you know.”

I shoot him a sidelong glance, but before I can reply, something rustles in the darkness ahead. I jump a little, and Franco notices, of course.

“Whoa, did you just flinch?” he teases, stepping closer. “I thought you said you weren’t scared.”

“It’s nothing, just my foot itched a little,” I say quickly, brushing it off. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Sure, sure,” he says, his grin not faltering. “Don’t worry, I’ll be your bodyguard tonight.”

We keep walking, the camera crew following close behind, but it’s getting harder to focus on the interview with all the random noises and the way Franco keeps inching closer every time something creaks.

“So,” I say, trying to regain control of the situation, “what’s the scariest thing you’ve ever faced in your racing career?”

Franco tilts his head, pretending to think for a moment. “Probably that one time I missed a pit stop and ended up in the wrong garage. I swear, the mechanics looked ready to chase me down.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “That’s not scary. That’s just embarrassing.”

“Hey, for a second, I thought I was about to get a wheel thrown at my head,” he jokes. “That’s plenty scary.”

Suddenly, there’s a loud bang from somewhere behind us, and I instinctively grab Franco’s arm. He chuckles, clearly enjoying this way too much.

“You sure you’re not scared?” he asks, his voice soft but teasing. “Because it kinda seems like you are.”

I shoot him a look, trying to play it cool even though my heart is pounding. “I’m just making sure you’re not the one freaking out.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, clearly unconvinced. “You’re a terrible liar, by the way.”

We turn another corner, and I realize the camera crew is no longer with us. I glance around, confused. “Wait… where did they go?”

Franco looks back over his shoulder, frowning. “They were just here. Maybe we lost them in one of the turns.”

“Well, that’s great,” I mutter, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “What do we do now?”

Franco shrugs, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes. “Guess we’ll just have to find them. You okay with being alone with me in a haunted house?”

I snort, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in my stomach. “Please, Colapinto. You’re not nearly as scary as you think you are.”

He steps closer, his grin widening. “Oh, I can make you pretty nervous I think.”

Before I can respond, there’s another loud crash, and something jumps out from the shadows. I scream before I can stop myself, my hand flying to Franco’s arm. He pulls me in closer, his other hand protectively resting on my waist as we both stare at the fake ghost that had startled me.

“Whoa, okay,” Franco says, his voice full of amusement. “I didn’t realize I had to start saving you this early.”

I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I try to laugh it off. “I wasn’t scared,” I insist, even though I’m still gripping his arm. “It was just—unexpected.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, clearly not buying it. “If you wanted to end up in my arms, you could’ve just asked.”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t let go of his arm. “You wish, Colapinto.”

He chuckles softly, his hand still resting on my waist as we stand there for a moment. “Hey, no complaints here. I’m enjoying this hero role.”

We walk a bit further, Franco staying close, and the tension between us feels slightly different from its usual playfulness. Something a bit more loaded.

“Alright,” I say, trying to keep things professional even though I can feel my heart racing. “Let’s find that camera crew before they think we’ve disappeared.”

Franco grins, clearly in no rush. “Oh, I’m sure they’ll turn up. But hey, at least this gives us some alone time.”

I glance up at him, raising an eyebrow. “And what exactly do you plan to do with this alone time?”

He smirks, leaning in slightly. “Guess you’ll just have to find out.”

We’ve been walking through this maze of dark hallways and creaking floors for what feels like ages. The air between Franco and me is thick with the usual playful teasing, but there’s something warmer underneath tonight. Something I’m not entirely sure either of us expected.

“So,” Franco says as we reach another eerie corner of the haunted house, “left or right, fearless leader?”

I glance between the two paths, both equally dark and ominous. “Left,” I say with a shrug, though my focus is more on the way Franco’s hand keeps brushing against mine as we stand there.

Without a word, he slips his fingers through mine, giving my hand a light squeeze as we take the left path. The gesture catches me off guard for a second, but it feels natural. Warm.

“You good?” Franco’s voice is soft, his teasing tone still there, but his concern is genuine.

I nod, trying to keep my voice steady. “Yeah, I’m just… trying not to trip over a fake skeleton or something.”

He chuckles, and I feel his thumb lightly brush against the back of my hand, his touch gentle. “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” I say, feeling a little braver now with him beside me.

We keep moving, our footsteps the only sound echoing through the narrow hallway. The haunted house is definitely doing its job—the creepy sound effects, the flickering lights, and the occasional distant scream have me on edge. But with Franco holding my hand, it’s easier to focus on him rather than the eeriness around us.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoes behind us, and I jump, gripping his hand tighter. Franco, always quick with a joke, leans in slightly.

“You know,” he says, his voice low, “if you’re looking for an excuse to stay close, you don’t really need one.”

I raise an eyebrow, trying to hide the way my heart skips. “Oh? Is that your best line?”

He grins, tugging me a little closer. “No, but it’s working, isn’t it?”

I glance up at him, half-amused, half-speechless at his boldness. “You’ve got no shame, do you?”

“None,” he replies, completely unfazed. “I figured you would’ve noticed that by now.”

We round another corner, and the sound of scraping metal rings out from ahead, louder this time. It’s getting harder to keep my cool, and Franco knows it. His hand tightens around mine, and before I can stop myself, I move closer to him again.

“You’re not as fearless as you like to pretend, huh?” Franco teases, though his voice has softened slightly, the flirty edge still there but mixed with something gentler.

“I’m perfectly fine,” I shoot back, trying to sound convincing, even though my heart’s racing a little too fast.

“Uh-huh,” he says, clearly unconvinced. “You’re doing great.”

We walk a few more steps, and then another noise—a low, guttural growl—sounds from behind. I instinctively pull myself closer to Franco, and this time, he doesn’t hold back. His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me securely against him.

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs, amusement lacing his voice, “I get it. You need me.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” I mutter, though I make no move to step away from him.

Franco grins down at me, his green eyes gleaming. “Too late.”

We walk like that for a bit, Franco’s arm around me, the haunted house feeling a little less overwhelming now that we’re practically glued together. His fingers brush against my side, just enough to send sparks up my spine.

“You know,” Franco says after a moment, his voice lighter, “you’re cute when you’re scared.”

I snort, shaking my head. “I’m not scared. I’m… strategically cautious.”

“Is that what you call it?” He raises an eyebrow, the teasing back in full force. “Because it looks like you’re holding on pretty tight.”

I glance down, realizing that I am, in fact, gripping his arm for dear life. “Shut up.”

He laughs softly, the sound warm and low, and I can feel his gaze on me as we continue walking. The haunted house seems quieter now, the eerie sounds fading into the background.

Then, out of nowhere, we turn another corner, and there’s the camera crew. Setting up for the next shot like nothing happened, completely unaware that we’d been wandering around alone for what felt like forever.

“Well,” Franco says, not letting go of my hand just yet, “looks like we’ve been found.”

I laugh, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Good. Now we can finish this interview properly.”

But Franco doesn’t move. Instead, he steps a little closer, his hand still holding mine, his gaze steady and a little more serious than usual. “You know,” he says softly, “I wouldn’t have minded if we got lost for a little longer.”

I meet his gaze, my heart doing that stupid fluttering thing again. “Oh, really?”

He grins, that familiar playful spark returning to his eyes. “Yeah. I was starting to like having you all to myself.”

I’m about to respond with something witty, but before I can, Franco leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. It’s quick, gentle, but it sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the haunted house or Halloween.

He pulls back, grinning down at me, clearly pleased with himself. “You good now?”

I nod, feeling my cheeks heat up as I try to regain some semblance of composure. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Franco squeezes my hand one last time before letting go, stepping back just as the camera crew calls us over. But as we walk toward them, I can’t help but let out a deep breath that I didn’t know I was holding. Butterflies having a rave in my stomach.

“You know,” Franco says with a grin as we rejoin the crew, “if you ever want to do another haunted house interview… I’m in.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “I’m sensing some ulterior motives here, Colapinto.”

“Perhaps,” he replies with a wink, his grin wide and full of promise.

[admirxation]

彡 𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 - 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠

♡ 𝐬𝐮𝐦. The reader helps Levi relax, after a ton of paperwork, by doing his favourite thing (wc: 2k )

𝐜𝐰 — afab!reader x Levi Ackerman. 18+ smut mdni, established relationship (husband/wife), porn with little plot, modern au, p in v, and cockwarming (so no full on sex it's just warming) -> you've been warned; continue at our own discretion.

It was another late night for Levi. The pitch dark shrouded the outside of the house, with the sound of the winter wind gushing through the wood panelling around the windows. He was in his study, the dim light of his desk lamp casting a soft glow over his scattered paperwork.

Paperwork. That damn paperwork. The room felt heavy with the scent of ink and paper, the sound of his pen scratching against the papers and the only thing that broke the silence in his study; honestly, it felt like his whole life was just being a corporate machine filling out blanks and signing out contracts, being miserable and stressing himself out just to get that pay-check. It was far later than he had anticipated, but the work never seemed to end as he glanced upon the sea of documents that felt like he wasn’t even making a dent in, with how time ticked away, but the pile just taunted him with that smug pillaring.

You heard—from your shared bedroom—the faint sigh escaping from his mouth as he shifted in his chair, knowing he was stressed and exhausted. It had become routine to wait for him and have your heavy eyes flutter open when he would creep into bed in the A.M., having your heart lurch when his alarm would go off and disturb his much-needed sleep. When making him some tea, you decided to crawl out of the silk satin sheets and let your bare feet pad against the floorboards and tiles. You knew a cup of tea wouldn’t solve all his problems—you weren’t stupid—but it was a way to show you were thinking of him; giving was your love language.

The house was still, the soft murmur of the night outside with a distant hum as the wind swished through the fickle and stiff branches. You stood just outside his office door, a delicate cup of steaming tea resting in your dainty hands as the warmth from the cup rose in small wisps against the bottom of your face. For a moment, you watched him with his brows furrowing and his dark hair falling into his eyes, that soft curve of his lips pressing into a thin line of concentration as he scratched the back of his undercut.

You knocked softly, not to startle him, and entered the room. “Levi,” you said quietly, moving toward him slowly and carefully, the cup of tea nestled in your soft hands. Your heart started to flutter as you watched his face soften when his gaze met yours.

His smile was genuine, with a flicker of warmth melting away the cold concentration that had previously been painted on his features. “You’re still up?” he asks in a voice rough from hours of silence, but concern is also etched in his demeanour as he glances at the cup in your hands.

You watched as he took the cup and placed it on the dark wooden desk. The cup's soft clink against the flat surface filled the room.

“I thought you might need something warm to help you,” you say tenderly as you watch his exhausted face, “you’ve been working so hard… I don’t like seeing you work yourself like this.”

He leaned back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair, a soft chuckle escaping his lips: “I just wanna make sure it’s all perfect before it’s sent off,�� he murmured, his gaze lingering on your face. “I work hard for you, after all.”

You felt a warmth rise in your chest, adoring how he always thought of you; even when he was buried under the weight of work, he always said he could endure it if it meant you could be comfortable.

“You don’t have to do everything all at once, Levi, and… I am not your entire responsibility,” you stepped closer with your hand resting gently on the top of his head, your heart jittering as he made his grey glance up at you; he watched as the soft glow of his lamp highlighted your features, feeling warm and a pull he always did when he was with you—his perfect wife.

He reached out a hand, gently wrapping around your wrist and pulling you in closer. “Come here,” he said softly, in a low voice that was warm and inviting. His eyes flickered with something deeper, something needier from his quiet longing and exhaustion.

Without a word, you moved into his arms, letting him pull you down onto his lap and letting his warmth envelop you. You were surrounded by the familiar strength of his arms winding around your waist and grounding you down on his thighs. The papers on his desk remained forgotten now, and the day's weight melted away in the quiet intimacy of the moment. He rested his head on your shoulder, burying himself deeper into the crook of your neck and taking in your scent and a deep inhale before expelling a sigh of contentment.

“You make the day so much better, my love,” he sighed, his arms tightening around you more before he moved his head back and looked at your face, taking in every detail: the slope of your nose, the crinkles by your eyes, and the way your lips curved into a smile. “You’re beautiful, by the way.”

“You say that every day, Levi.”

“What? Am I not allowed to compliment my wife now,” he let out an amused hum from his lips as he looked at you for a few more moments.

You smiled at his comment, a dust of red meeting your cheeks as you felt his hand smooth over the curve of your cheek. “Come here; I haven’t given you much attention today.” You quickly obliged as you saw his eyes flutter shut, mirroring yours as you both leaned in to press your lips into a soft and tender interlock. Your ears filled with the sound of his lips against yours and the sensation of his connection, making the warmth of your cheeks travel further around your body as your fingers trickled up to his hair, snaking up from his neck and feeling the short bursts of hair from his undercut, then the long dark and soft strands that you intertwined your delicate fingers with.

Both of you softly hummed into the kiss, expelling soft and sensual moans as the kiss started to deepen, his hands rubbing against your exposed thighs as you continued to straddle his lap, letting out a short and playful yelp as you felt him grow underneath you.

“Levi,” you giggled out as you rubbed against him to tease him, feeling a jolt within your core as you listened to the slow inhale as he felt your clothed core rub against his tent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he looked into your eyes and took in every feature he had fallen in love with over the years of being with you, “you know… I’d love to be taken care of right now,” he mentioned in that teasing and tantalising tone. Of course, you knew exactly what ‘taking care’ of him meant; after all, the strong man did have his desires that you needed to fulfil.

“Oh, and what do you need, my love.”

“How about you take these off,” he had trailed his hand underneath your nightdress and tucked his fingertips underneath the lace edge, pinging the fabric back and letting it slap against your skin, causing a soft wince of shock.

You smiled at him as you lifted yourself off—momentarily—and dragged the underwear to be discarded on his study’s floor, letting his eyes darken as he watched you come crawling back on his lap.

“Hm, so obedient,” he teased as he started to leave a hot trail of kisses on your neck, making sure to pay attention to your sweet spots, his hands on your hips and rocking you back and forth as your cunt started to warm up in its wet against his tented sweatpants, making you mewl out his name as he started to get you ready for him.

“Mm, Levi, thought I was taking care of you,” you whimpered through your chewed lip caught in the fronts of your teeth.

“You will be; I just have to warm you up first,” he whispered as the tips of his teeth grazed over your neck, making you release a hot and sensual gasp to fill up the dark room with an energetic thrill that was already coursing through both of your bodies.

He let out a grunt when he could finally feel how wet you were underneath him. “Now, shall we do my favourite thing since my sweetheart loves to take care of me,” he teased as he moved a strand out of your face, his warm breath trailing down your neck and onto your collarbones.

“Yeah… I wanna make you feel good.”

“That’s my girl.”

A strawberry red dust flowed over your cheeks, your breath hitching as you watched him bring down his sweatpants, taking in short and sweet gasps as your eyes glanced down and were met with the sight of his hardened cock; just the sight making your already wet pussy twitch and tighten as if in anticipation of his entrance that you were so desperate for.

“You wanna be good and do my favourite thing, hm?”

“Yes, Levi”

“My, you are a good girl tonight.”

You happily obliged, positioning yourself and lining him up with your anticipating hole, hovering before slowly pushing down. However, Levi got a bit impatient and placed his large hands on your waist and slammed you down, filling the room with the slapping sound of your skin against his.

“Ah~” you moaned out as your eyes started to drift upwards, fluttering as your mouth was left agape at the feeling of his fast rut inside your tight and spasming walls getting adjusted to him.

“Shh, shh, you can take it; no need to be dramatic now,” he cooed in your ear as he pushed his hand underneath your dress and rubbed your back, already starting to feel how your blood was running hot all through your body from the raised temperature of your skin; you jumped slightly with a hitch in your breath as you felt his cock twitch inside of your tight core, making your thighs shake beside his as you tried to get accustomed to his large size. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting him place soft kisses on your neck; all you wanted to do was bounce on his dick, feeling the temptation as you started to lift your knees up before he stopped you.

“Ah, ah, ah, stay right where you are… I wanted my favourite thing… Yours can come tomorrow.” He winded his arms around your waist as the other rubbed your back in comfort, making you squirm and writhe under the sensation and the bubbling need to bounce and feel his deep stokes, a bubbling sensation that wouldn’t be met until later on—you had to play the waiting game.You bit your lip and chewed gently on the glossy texture. You knew why this was Levi’s favourite thing; it made you two feel close, especially after a long day of missing and yearning for you when paperwork was a constant obstacle from all the love he wanted to make with you. You weren’t going to deny it; all you wanted to do was pump up and down and make you both feel good, but this was his time, your time to take care of him while he slaved away working. You, also, couldn’t deny it felt so good to feel his hard cock rest inside your tightening pussy, and the tingling sensation running through your body as his calloused hand ran over your spine and hummed as soft kisses continued to be placed on your neck.

taglist: @wintrrxxo @sleazymac-n-cheesy @localkiss -> check out my pinned post if you want to be added to the taglist, if you want to be deleted just privately message me.

a/n: more levi content hehe, i see you hungry girls who liked the breeding kink post and ugh i love it when people share my levi love, it's a phase that just keeps coming back AH. btw after kinktober i am going for a PHAT slumber, I'll still be around obvi but I won't be writing anything for at least for the first two weeks of november to recover as well as needing to concentrate on my masters work.

[marysfics]

In Your Corner

Your girlfriend has an important match tomorrow.

Fluff

The soft hum of the city at night drifted through the open window, mingling with the distant echoes of cars and the faint rustle of leaves in the cool breeze. The moonlight streamed in, painting the room in silvery hues, casting delicate shadows on the walls.

You sat on the edge of your shared bed, leaning against the headboard, your gaze fixed on her. Alexia stood by the window, the oversized shirt she always wore the night before an important match draped over her frame. It fell loosely over her shoulders, the familiar sight tugging at your heart. Her long hair cascaded down her back, catching the light, and her hands rested gently on the windowsill as she gazed out at the world, lost in thought.

You couldn't help but smile, watching her. There was something about this ritual, this quiet moment of reflection before the chaos of the next day. She had always been like this, calm before the storm, but tonight, something felt different. There was an energy in the air, a quiet intensity radiating from her, and you could feel it in your bones.

You knew how much tomorrow meant to her. It wasn’t just another game—it was the game. The culmination of weeks, months, years of hard work, sacrifice, and dedication. But right now, in this moment, she was just Alexia—your Alexia.

She sighed softly, and the sound pulled you from your thoughts. You watched as her shoulders rose and fell, her chest expanding with a deep breath. Her eyes were far away, somewhere beyond the city skyline, lost in the world of her own dreams, fears, and hopes.

"You're quiet tonight," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the peace of the room.

Alexia turned her head slightly, just enough to glance at you over her shoulder. A small, soft smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and for a moment, you swore the room grew warmer.

"I’m just thinking," she replied, her voice low, tinged with a hint of nervousness. It was rare for her to be this vulnerable, to let her guard down, but you knew her too well. She was always strong, always poised, but right now, you could see the weight of tomorrow in her eyes.

You slid off the bed, your feet padding softly against the cool floor as you walked over to her. Gently, you wrapped your arms around her from behind, resting your chin on her shoulder. She leaned back into you, exhaling a shaky breath as your warmth enveloped her.

"It’s going to be perfect," you whispered against her skin, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her neck. "You’re going to be perfect."

She didn’t respond right away, but you felt the way her body relaxed into yours, the way the tension seemed to melt from her muscles. Her hand reached up to rest on your arm, her thumb brushing gently over your skin. The silence between you was comforting, filled with unspoken words, with love and understanding.

"I just—" she started, her voice catching in her throat. She paused, swallowing hard before continuing. "I don’t want to let anyone down. My team, my family, you…"

You tightened your hold on her, pressing your cheek against hers. "You could never let anyone down, Alexia. Least of all me. I believe in you, more than you’ll ever know."

She turned in your arms, facing you now, her eyes searching yours. There was a flicker of vulnerability there, a softness that was reserved only for you. The world saw the strong, fearless leader, but you saw the woman behind it all. The woman who gave everything she had, who loved fiercely, and who sometimes needed a reminder that she was enough.

You reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, your fingers lingering on her cheek. "You’ve worked so hard for this moment. Tomorrow, you’ll step onto that pitch and show the world who you are. But tonight… tonight, you’re here with me. And that’s all that matters."

Her eyes softened, filling with something deeper, something you couldn’t quite put into words but felt in every fiber of your being. She leaned in, her forehead resting against yours as she closed her eyes.

"How did I get so lucky?" she whispered, her breath ghosting over your lips.

You smiled, your heart swelling in your chest. "I think I’m the lucky one."

For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, the quiet hum of the night surrounding you like a blanket. You kissed her softly, slow and tender, a promise that no matter what tomorrow held, this—you—was forever.

When you pulled back, Alexia’s eyes were shining, filled with a renewed sense of calm. "Stay with me tonight?" she asked, her voice soft but filled with something raw and real.

"Always," you replied, taking her hand and leading her back to the bed.

As you settled in together, her head resting on your chest, your fingers absentmindedly playing with her hair, you felt her body relax completely, the last remnants of her tension fading away. She was ready for tomorrow, ready for whatever the world had to throw at her, because she wasn’t facing it alone.

And as you lay there, holding her close, you knew that no matter what happened, you’d always be by her side.

-

Note: found this in my drafts. Wanted to give you all a little something. My mental health has been low lately, which makes it hard to write. I can be so self critical. I can't promise if there comes another piece before November. I'll try my best.

[hyewka]

“choke me. i want you to choke, choke me.”

“you’re—are you sure? like—”

it’s as if he has a sixth sense on when your nerves flare up because you then feel the warmth of his hand on yours, guiding it to his neck, “here. press here. i like it, it’s o-okay.”

the way he reassures you softly, with heavy-lidded eyes looking up at you, no doubt affected by your ass snuggling against his hard on, is a complete 180 to his usual demeanor—confidently outspoken, voice louder than most, someone you’d expect would want to take more charge in the bedroom.

but clearly, that’s far from the truth.

the more you press down on his neck, he’s inhaling through his nose in long deep breaths already, chest falling down then going up again—then you experimentally press your ass against his clothed erection even more and holy shit, he lets out a sound you could never imagine in even your wildest dreams coming from a man. so sinfully pretty, a gasp for air combined beautifully with a higher pitched whine, almost like a squeak, his eyes already glazing over like he’s totally out of it and might seriously jizz in his pants any second now. his face is perfect you realize, hes always been prettier than some of the girls you’ve been with.

in panic at seeing him turning a pinkish hue you snap out of whatever spell beomgyu had just casted on you and you get your hands off him.

“fuck,” he groans, inhaling through his mouth some much needed air, like he was a fish on land.

“are you okay? was i too hard on you???” your eyes slightly widen at seeing the red imprint on his neck—shit, you might’ve really hurt him-

“i need you to do that again. please, fuck, why’d you stopp..” he whines reaching out for your wrist, unknowingly bucking his hips chasing some friction again.

there was always one thing about beomgyu that had told you he’d be a freak, and likes it freaky but holy shit.

[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡’𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐭

Kenji Sato x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐔𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.5k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: secret relationship, clothed fingering, teasing, semi-public sex, unprotected p in v sex, hair pulling

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After another victory for the Giants, Ken has only one thing on his mind—celebrating with you, away from the prying eyes of his teammates and your father.

You pulled your jacket tighter against the cool night air, the chill biting your skin as your gaze drifted one the now-empty field. The faint echo of cheering fans still hung in the air after Yomiuri Giants had won the game, though the excitement had long passed.

From up here in the nosebleeds, the rest of the world seemed distant, like you were in your own bubble. You always preferred the solitude after a game.

It was the perfect place to wind down from the excitement. Though the altitude left you shivering a little, the peace was always worth it.

The sound of footsteps climbing the stairs made you turn, and there he was— Ken. He wore the playful grin he only gave you. The kind that promised trouble, yet made your heart quicken.

Each step brought him closer, his broad figure cutting though the dim light. You couldn’t help but feel your breath catch as he quickened his pace, his smile never faltered.

“Thought you could hide from me?” Ken teased, the star player who had taken the Giants by storm.

He slid into the seat next to you with the ease of someone who he knew was wanted, his arm casually resting along the back of your chair to pull you closer. “Had to ditch a few reporters to get here.”

You laughed softly, but the revelation of him going out of his way to find you sent a thrill in your chest. He always found you, no matter how high or far you tried to distant yourself.

“I wouldn’t say hiding,” you replied, leaning closer to him.

“No? Just enjoying a nice quiet spot all alone, huh?” He raised a brow. You always liked keeping him on his toes, challenging him to see if he’d chase up to you and he always did, every time.

“Well…it is a nice view,” you remarked, your voice carrying a matter-of-fact tone before your eyes fixed on the empty pitch below.

Only moments ago, thousands of eyes had been glued to the field, hearts pounding in sync and riding the thill of anticipation. The roar of crowds as the last bat swung through the air, sealing the games fate, still reverberating in your mind.

The lights had dimmed now, casting the entire stadium in shadows. Despite the stillness, the view was still breathtaking. From this height, you could see every seat, each one now vacant. The vastness of it felt both daunting and exhilarating.

You could feel Ken watching you quietly, seemingly admiring the way your eyes took it all in. It was like the gears that was turning in your head was showing in your awe-struck expression.

“You’re right,” he finally agreed, a hint of sincerity in his voice. “It is a nice view.”

“How do people even watch the games from up here?” The pitch from your view looked so small, almost insignificant— it was hard to believe that anyone could see the players or follow then game from here.

Ken chuckled at your genuine curiosity, a sound that echoed in your chest. “Most people don’t,” he answered, glancing over the empty stands. “Most people want to be down there, cheering with the rest of the crowd. But I prefer it up here.”

You held onto the back of the seat that was in front of you, leaning over slightly as the cool night brushed against your face. The wind made the tip of your nose and fingers feel colder until they were almost numb. “It’s colder up here too…”

“Yeah it is…you’re not too cold are you?” he asked with genuine concern.

He shifted besides you, his body turning just enough that you could feel his warmth. You hesitated for a second. If you said yes, he’d probably pull you into his arms, sharing his warmth with you, since you already had a jacket.

But the fear of prying eyes— especially from your father— made you shake your head.

“You know…” you started, drawing in another deep breath of the cold air. “I think watching the game from down there would be too much as well. Maybe the middle…that’s where the sweet spot is.”

“You’ve got it all figured out, huh?” he leaned across his seat until he was close enough for his shoulders to touch yours. “You never really said why you were up here,”

Ken waited for you to response. He could probably sense that there was more to your thoughts than just a discussion about optimal view locations.

You let out a sigh before you answered. “I just wanted to be away from the noise. No one comes up here after the game.”

Ken didn’t say anything at first, but from the look in his eyes, you knew he understood. He had his own way of seeking refuge from the chaotic world that surrounded him, especially as a star player.

It was something you both shared in experience, the unspoken need to escape.

“I know what you mean…the crowd gets a bit much sometimes.”

You turned to face him fully, you tone dropped into something more serious, almost urgent. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating with the team down there?” you asked. “Dad’s probably gonna be looking for you…”

Your father— the head coach of the Yomiuri Giants— had always been strict about sticking to schedule, especially after a win. His players were supposed to be attending the post-game meetings, meeting interviews, or just sticking close for team celebrations. Something Ken wasn’t the best at keeping at.

There were a lot of benefits being the daughter the coach. You had special access and credentials which allowed you into the stadium without a ticket, especially for home games.

It also allowed you access to areas that were off-limits to regular fans, like locker rooms and training areas. That was how you got close with Ken Sato— but it was more him trying to get close to you initially.

Ken rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Probably.” he admitted. “But I wanted to see you instead.”

You didn’t repond right away, but your eyes were drawn to the way the wind played with his hair, tousling it slightly.

Something about the sight made a sudden urge to touch him wash over you. Before you could stop yourself, your fingers reached out, brushing some of the locks back.

Ken leaned into your touch, his eyes closed for a brief moment as your fingers combed through the soft strands.

“Your hairs getting messy,” you remarked, as if that wasn’t obvious already. Though the words came out more as an excuse to keep touching him, feeling his scalp beneath your fingertips. Ken’s eyes fluttered open again.

“I guess it is, huh?” He reached up, gently catching your wrist in his hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. “You like it messy?”

As you and Ken continued to enjoy the quiet moment, a sudden noise from below snapped you out of your reverie. Footsteps echoed up the stairs, sharp against the hollow metal.

“Someone’s coming—” you whispered urgently, your stomach almost lurching out of your throat. Ken stiffened besides you, instantly alert, his sharp gaze scanned the area.

The footsteps grew louder, the sound bouncing off the empty space, making it harder to tell where it was coming from or how close they were.

The pitch had been emptied out long ago, and you weren’t sure who would still be wandering around. Whoever was coming didn’t seem like a fan, but you couldn’t take the chances.

“Come on,” Ken grabbed your hand and pulled you swiftly to your feet.

You followed him, barely keeping up with his long stride. He moved with a kind of confidence he always had, in every moment like this— sneaking away like you were fugitives.

His grip was firm, steadying, as he led you between the tight rows of bleachers, your foot steps muted on the metal..

It was cramped, the metal beams and tight corners forced you closer together. The faint smell of dirt and grass filled your senses, mixed with the scent of steel and old concessions. The footsteps grew louder now as you pressed yourself against Ken.

Ken lowered himself to the ground, pulling you with him until you were sitting on his lap, pressed against him. He wrapped his arms around your waist as your legs draped across his. You could feel his grip around your tightening, silently communicating for you to remain quiet.

The person was very close to where you two were hidden— only a few more steps and they would catch the both of you huddled together. You just hoped it wasn’t your Dad looking for Ken.

You tried to keep yourself steady but with him being this close, it was getting increasingly difficult to focus on anything but the fact that you were on his lap. Without thinking, a soft sound escaped your lips.

“Hmm…”

Ken’s grip on you tightened, and he shot you a sharp, warning look. His eyes flickered to your lips. For a moment, you thought he might cover your mouth with his hand— something you weren’t entirely opposed to.

You didn’t expect what came next— a subtle movement of his hand, slipping between your thighs, using his fingers to put more pressure.

The sudden sensation sent a shiver down your spine. You instinctively clamped your legs together, trapping his hand between them, his fingers squished against your core.

But that only added to his tryst. You felt him curl his fingers to reach your clothes folds, making sure to focus his attention on the one spot that he knew would drive you to the edge.

You shot him an annoyed whisper, “What are you doing?” Though the warmth that pooled in your core told you that you already knew.

Ken didn’t respond with words. Instead, he curled his fingers again, his eyes locked onto yours with a mischievous glint. You bit your lip, the temptation to let out a sound was getting harder to resist.

Out of impulse, you rolled your hips to get more friction, grinding against his fingers. You felt a hum of approval vibrate from his through as you squirmed in his grasp.

The sounds of the footsteps gradually faded, signaling the coast was clear. But all you could focus on was Ken’s hand, still dangerous close to your sensitive spot.

“Ken—” you hissed before letting out a moan.

“Yeah?” he inquired, feigning innocence, as if he didn’t know exactly what he was doing to you. His fingers still traced slow, teasing circles over your core, pressed against the fabric of your pants just enough to send sparks through your body.

You could feel the damp heat pooling between your legs, and you knew he could too. The friction, even through the fabric, was enough to make your pulse quicken.

Your walls were starting to clenched onto nothing, desperately for some friction.

“What if dad catches us?” You breathed.

“Does your old man have some sort of sixth sense when it comes to catching people?” he teased, his lips brushing against your ear before he nipped lightly.

“Well no…but it’s not like he’s left the stadium entirely,” you tried to grasp onto some logic, though it slipped further away with each ministry from Ken’s fingers.

Ken, however, seemed unphased by the risks. His focus was entirely on you, as he continued to drag out your pleasures and draw out those tortuously slow circles against you.

From where he sat, his head tilted slightly forward, his eyes reflecting his amusement. It was maddening how calm he was while your mind was spinning.

You suddenly felt something poking under you on his lap. Kenji let out a low grunt at the unexpected contact.

You could tell his growing arousal was starting to get uncomfortable, especially with you over his lap. But you didn’t want to continue anything with the position you were in. You were still out in the open.

“Can we go somewhere more private for this?”

Ken glanced up over the bleachers, his eyes narrowing as if calculating all the places they could sneak off to without anyone noticing. His jaws clenched slightly in thought, as you shifted on his lap.

“And where exactly did you have in mind?” His voice was low and deliberate now, as he continued surveying the area.

You shrugged, trying to steady your nerves. “I don’t know…you know this place more than I do.”

Ken hummed softly, still in deep thought as his eyes traced the path around the stadium, searching for a spot that was secluded enough.

His expression was hard to read, but you would feel tension in his posture, his body weighing each option carefully.

A few agonising seconds later, he shifted his hold on you, wrapping one arm under your thighs with ease and carefully scoop you up from his lap. His hold was firm yet gentle, a subtle protectiveness as he rose to his feet.

As he started down the stairs from the nosebleeds, you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck before glancing over your shoulder.

The stadium still echoed with distant sounds of lingering crowds celebrating the Giants’ victory. Everyone was too caught up in the post-game festivities to notice the two of you.

“Where are we going again?” you asked in a hushed voice.

He didn’t answer immediately, his pace quickening as he approached a more secluded hallway. He continued towards the locker rooms and maintenance areas.

His eyes darted around, making sure no one was near, before he answered, “You’ll see.”

You could physically feel your heart hammering in your rib cage, the thrill of secrecy swirled with the fear of getting caught.

His hand reached for the doorknob of the supply closet, and with one quick glance over his shoulder, he slipped inside, closing the door with a soft click. He gently set you down on your feet before flickering the light switch.

The room was cramped with shelves lined with cleaning supplies, boxes stacked haphazardly in the corners.

The air felt stale with the lingering scent of detergent in the air, and the light barely filtered through the high windows.

“Seriously?” you looked back at Ken incredulously, brows arched. A wry smile on your lips as you glanced around the tiny room.

Ken chuckled at your expression, amused by the situation you both were in. His broach shoulders brushed against a shelf as he closed the gap between the two of you.

His playful grin softened as his eyes met yours. “Oh don’t give me that look,” he murmured, leaning in closer to you. “At least it’s a lot more private than where we were earlier.”

You sighed softly, knowing he had a point, but there was still a knot of anxiety tightening in your chest. Something about the risks made it hard to fully enjoy the moment with Ken.

The room felt smaller with each passing second, the close proximity becoming more intimate. You could still catch the faint sounds of the crowd outside, a reminder that everything was still going on and they were dangerously close.

“Sure…” you murmured cautiously, your eyes darted at the door. “But what if the janitor comes in?”

“Won't happen,” he responded simply, the calm certainty brushed away your worries by a fraction.

He wasted no time to press you against the wall firmly. His taller frame caged you, his arms bracketing either side of your head.

The atmosphere between the two of you was charged with exhilaration, the sounds of your breathing filled your ears.

You met his gaze as his figure loomed over you, casting a shadow that swallowed you whole.

He dipped his head next to your ear with his voice dropping an octave, making you shiver. “Now stop worrying and just relax.”

You knew he was right, there was no point worrying too much and letting your anxiety steal this moment— this rare, stolen slice of time when you could finally be alone with him.

You chewed on your lower lip, your mind torn between the fear of getting caught and the magnetic pull drawing you to him “Just hope dad doesn’t try looking for you—“

He silenced you with a kiss, cutting off your sentence in a way that left no room for argument— literally. The warmth radiating from his body enveloped you, his lips moved against yours with ease.

You could taste the lingering buzz of the game— the post victory high that still surrounded him. The adrenaline was still crackling between the two of you.

You melted into him, your worried momentary fading, replaced by the urge of being close to him. His presence was consuming, making it easier to forget everything outside the small, cramped room.

Your hands found their way to his jersey, gripping onto the fabric. The way his mouth moved against you— soft yet relentless— made it impossible to keep yourself grounded.

After a moment, you pulled back just enough to catch your breath. Your lips were still tingling from the kiss. “Don’t you have a press conference tonight?”

“Relax, you worry wart,” Ken responded, his lips tugging into a teasing smile that you couldn’t resist. “The conference isn't until a few hours, so we have plenty of alone time together.”

His thumb brushed lightly against your cheek. Ken always had a way of making your worries seem distant, insignificant, even when you were tucked away in a cramped supply closet.

His presence was always intoxicating— every touch, and eye contact, set your nerves on fire that fell in the pit of your gut.

Without warning, Kenji spun you around so that your back was now pressed against the bare wall. He easily maneuvered your legs apart with his knee, slotting himself in between your thighs with firm and strong movements.

The sudden shift left you stunned, the heat from his body seeped through your skin, clouding your focus and pulling you deeper into the moment.

Every inch of space between the two of you was gone, leaving you hyper aware of his strong hold on your waist.

His grip tightened as you pulled you even closer, your back pressed against his chest. His warmth made it nearly impossible to focus on anything other than his touch.

Your bodies fit together, perfectly aligned. You could feel his hard on pressing against your rear— you stiffened as he grinded himself slowly.

“You feel that?” he whispered, his lips ghosted against the shell of your ear. “I’ve been thinking about this all day. About you.”

You felt a shiver through your body at the confession. You couldn’t tell if the heat you felt was from his body or the pool in your core.

“Ken…” his name left your lips in a soft gasp, hovering somewhere between urging him on or telling him to keep quiet.

You weren’t sure which one you wanted more, your judgment slowly slipping away like vapor.

His hands found their way to the line of your pants before slowly pulling them down, each second that passed was antagonising.

You heard his own clothes shuffling, amplified in the silence between the two of you, before he leaned you forward, giving him better access to your drenched cunt.

One of your hands was held by the wrist behind your back while the other gripped onto the cold pipe that lined the wall. You felt him roll his hip to rub his hardened dick against your exposed folds, taunting you.

“You know…” he muttered. “I still haven’t gotten a reward for winning the game earlier, I’m still feeling a little unsatisfied after what happened behind the bleachers.”

Before you could retaliate to his comment, the words caught in your throat as he pushed his tip inside. He snickered lowly when he heard your gasp, his touch setting your senses on fire.

He pushed himself further until he finally bottomed up inside of you, your silky walls pulling him eagerly. You felt the suction of your walls as he dragged himself out before slamming his hips against you again.

You tightened your grip on the cold metal pipe above you, desperate for something to anchor yourself. It was getting harder to keep your balance as you felt your knees weaken under the intensity of his movement.

His thrusts started off slow and deliberate, getting accustomed to the feel of you around him. Each delicious friction sent a jolt of bliss through your core.

You bit down on your lower lip, hard enough that your canines pressed into the soft flesh, stifling the sounds threatening to erupt from your throat.

The tension that was coiling inside you was unbearable, and the last thing you wanted was for anyone passing by to hear what was happening behind these walls.

A fleeting hope passed your mind. Please let the hallways be empty right now. Each second became harder to stay quiet.

Ken’s voice cuts through your haze, low and rough. “Don’t hold back now,” he urged. “I wanna hear every sound, baby, let me hear you.”

The last part was punctured by a sharp thrust from his hip. You let out a startled moan when he changed his pace, reaching deeper in a more sporadic rhythm.

A low moan rumbled out from deep within his chest as he kept moving. You could sense that he was already nearing the edge, his breath turning more and more laboured like yours with each pump from his hips.

“Can’t believe I’m the only one that gets to see this,” Ken whispered into your ear, the pride in his voice was unmistakable as he kept milking more moans out of you.

His words echoed in your head, sending a rush of adrenaline through your veins. No one would believe this. The thought of you being caged beneath the star player, cramped in a supply closet, felt thrilling and scandalous.

Yet here you were.

As his touch lingered over you, a sudden realisation dawned on you. With his charm and status, Ken could have anyone he wanted.

He was a star— admired and untouchable in the eyes of the public. And yet, in his private moments, he chose to be with you.

You felt him press further into you, the weight of this lewd secret shared between you both.

You weren’t usually this reckless. With your father being a coach, you had an image to uphold— one of control and discipline.

But something about Ken made you forget about all that. His magnetic presence, his boldness, it all made you fall into his temptations without looking back.

His hand released from your wrist, buried through your hair to tug it upwards with enough force to make you arch into him. Your body instinctively leaned into his pull.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, and for a brief moment, everything faded. His mouth hung slightly open, breath uneven and shallow, his hair falling messily over his forehead— a few locks swished over his forehead as he kept thrusting forward.

“Come for me—” you said between wavering moans. You held your gaze at him, emphasising your words.

You could feel the effect your words had on him as his thrusts became sloppy and his grip on you tightened, afraid that you'd slip away.

Finally, he fell apart as his orgasm washed over him in waves. His release pulsated inside you, your knees buckled from the sheer hell bent force of his cum reaching every crevice.

Your legs twitched as you could feel yourself greedily taking his release. Ken pulled out slowly, but kept his arms firm around you.

The room felt stuffy now, filled with the sound of your shared, laboured breaths. Your grip on the pipe loosened, your arms falling limply to your sides and the tension melted away.

“You okay?” Ken asked in a low tone, almost as if he didn’t want to disturb the peace settling between the two of you.

You turned your body, your chest heaving, your lungs greedily pulling air in. After a few breaths, you swallow to moisturise your dry throat from the breathless moans from earlier.

Finally, you found your voice.

“Yeah…” you replied, your voice a mixture of disbelief and satisfaction. “That was…hot.”

The buzz of the intensity of what just happened still hummed in your bones, lingering like an aftershock, making it hard to fully come down from the high of the moment.

“I guess hiding under the bleachers wasn’t a bad idea then,” Ken’s lips curled into a playful grin. He wrapped his arms around you to pull you closer, and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead before drawing his lips near your ear. “You handled that so well, I couldn’t stop watching you,”

His praise went through your chest and straight to your heart, with your stomach fluttering. There was something about hearing him say that, in that tone, that felt both flattering and intimate— like a side of Ken he rarely showed.

It made you feel more drawn to him.

“Yeah…it was beyond hot. I still can’t believe we did that.” you leaned into his chest, your fingers tracing circles on his back.

Ken chuckled, his chest rumbled beneath you. “Can’t believe we pulled that off without getting caught.”

You looked back up at him and held his gaze. His eyes reflected the lingering mischief and excitement from earlier. But beneath that, you could see the genuine affection in his expression, something deeper than the thrill of the moment.

You scoffed, flicking his nose playfully before you spoke. “Don’t get too cocky. We still need to get out of here without anyone seeing us.”

Ken grinned, leaning in for one last kiss before releasing his embrace. “Think you can be quiet this time?”

“We’ll see.”

You shifted in your spot, fumbling to put your clothes back on while Ken sorted himself out. Once he gave you the signal that the coast was clear, you stepped out of the closet, side by side, into the brightly lit hallway.

The fluorescent lighting overhead made you squint, snapping you both back into reality.

Just as you felt the relief of safety sinking in, a sudden squeak of shoes echoed on the concrete floor. The sound of footsteps grew louder.

Ken stiffened, his hand immediately finding yours as he quickly pulled you down a different corridor. The adrenaline from earlier spiked again as you both continued to close in to the end of the halls.

He came to a halt just before another turn, his body slightly blocking yours as he peered around the corner. You saw his shoulders relaxed before he gave you a playful nudge. “Let’s not push out luck.”

Without wasting any time, he led you toward a back exit of the stadium. The air outside hit you like a cool breeze of relief, clearing the tightness in your gut.

The contrast between the cramped heated, space and the open air felt freeing. For a moment, the rush of the whole situation, being with Ken in these moments felt so right— like your own private world, hidden from everyone else.

But as you neared the lot, you knew reality was waiting just beyond.

~

It was close to 11 PM by the time you arrived back home. The house was steeped in a quiet stillness, nothing out of the ordinary. But the atmosphere felt thick and uncomfortable, as if the walls were aware of something you were trying to hide.

The only sign that anyone was awake was the low hum of the TV filtered down the hallway. The faint glow from the screen spilled out from the living room, cutting through the dimness in the house.

Your pulse throbbed in your ear with each step you took and the soft creak of the floorboards amplified in the silence.

As you closed in to the doorway, you spotted your father in the living room. He sat hunched in his usual spot on the couch, still in his coach’s uniform.

The harsh light from the TV illuminated his face, casting shadows that exaggerated the furrow of his brow. His lips were pressed into a hard line— a clear hint that something had pissed off.

He hadn’t acknowledged you, but you knew he was aware of your presence. He never missed a thing. You crossed the room until you were an arms length away from him.

“Finally decided to come home, huh?” His gravelly voice startled you.

You straightened up, adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “Yeah…sorry, I didn’t realise how late it was.” You forced a casual tone.

His face didn’t falter and it was hard to tell what was going through his head at that moment.

“Next time, maybe try and keep an eye on the clock,” he muttered. “Can’t have you wondering in at this hours.”

You fiddled with the strap of your bag again. The soreness between your legs from earlier was still fresh. The memory of your time with Ken still clung to you, making it harder to meet your father’s gaze.

“I know Dad. It won’t happen again,” you spoke quietly.

He grunted in response, eyes never leaving the TV. “You eat yet?”

Your mouth went dry. How were you supposed to answer that? The truth was, you did eat, but it was with Ken after sneaking out of the supply closet— something you definitely couldn’t bring up.

You let out a breath and chose your words carefully. Hopefully he wouldn’t ask you for details.

“Yeah, I grabbed something at a cafe.” You kept your voice steady, hoping he wouldn’t ask for details. “You?”

“Lost my appetite after watching that idiot on TV.” He finally glanced at you, eyes narrowed slightly. “Have you seen Sato’s latest stunt at the press conference?”

You felt goosebumps from the back of your neck at the mention of Ken’s name. Suddenly you were reminded of the dull ache between your legs again.

But what mounted your anxiety was hearing the annoyance in your dad’s voice as he spoke about him.

You fought to keep your expression neutral. “Uhm no, I wasn’t really paying attention. What happened?”

“Same old nonsense,” he growled. “Arrogant, cocky…talking like he owns the damn team. He might be good on the field, but that attitude’s going to cost him.”

The temper was starting to flare in his tone with each word he uttered, and it made your skin crawl. You knew your dad never had the best relationship with Ken, especially with his style of playing.

Your eyes drifted to the screen. Ken’s face filled the TV, his posture relaxed, almost too casual.

You could tell he wasn’t interested in questions being thrown at him, answering the same blasé demeanor that drove your dad crazy.

But you knew better. Ken didn’t care for interviews or reporters probing his life. Was he thinking about you during the press conference, as much as you were thinking about him now?

Your heart raced at the thought. His cockiness, the same confidence you’d seen up close in the cramped supply closet, seemed to shine through even more now.

Had being with you given him that edge?

You quickly pulled your attention back to the conversation, ignoring the fluttering in your stomach, “Yeah…that sounds like him.”

Deep down, despite his cockiness, you always found his confidence a bit attractive. But it often strained his relationships with his teammates, disrupting the team’s unity.

He had so much potential, but part of you wished he could tone it down and find balance. Maybe then, your father would see him in the same light that you did.

“He needs to learn some respect, or someone’s gonna knock some into him.”

You swallowed hard, sensing the growing tension in the room.

“Maybe he’ll figure it out eventually.” You quickly steered the conversation away from Ken before your father picked up on anything. “Anyway, I’m really tired. I think I’ll head to bed.”

He finally turned his full attention to you, his eyes scanning your face for a moment longer than necessary. You forced yourself to stand still and lock in, resisting the urge to fiddle with your bag under his scrutiny.

Coach turned to look at you, his eyes boring yours for a while before you were starting to feel an itch to leave the room.

After a long, uncomfortable pause, he let out a grunt and turned to the screen. “Right. Get some rest. We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

You were a bit surprised that he dropped the conversation so quickly.

For a moment, you expected him to continue lecturing you about being late, especially since he was already upset when you walked in. But you took this opportunity to leave without another second thought.

“Goodnight Dad,” you left the room briskly.

“Night,” he called back, but by then you were already out of the room, escaping to the safety of your bedroom.

The thought of texting Ken crossed your mind for a moment, but you decided against it. You focused on taking a shower and getting ready for bed instead.

You’d ask him in the morning about the press conference.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @deartulantula @nina-from-317 @luluxx118 @despacito-uwu16

@gyusimp @miguel-ohara-wifey @ichkyu

We’re off to a strong start I think, but can I get a ‘you son of a bitch, I’m down’ (just humour me for a sec 💀) in the comments if we should have more of this Coach’s Daughter AU (CD for short?)

This trope is so cute yet so scandalous and has so much potential

[sapphim]

Monstrous Wardens Masterpost

A great big collection of text from the Dragon Age games and novels about darkspawn, Grey Wardens, and the Calling, to fuel everyone's monstrous wardens headcanons.

This has actually been sitting in my drafts for like half a year now bc I thought I really should scrounge around for more quotes from Last Flight, Awakening, and Legacy. That... didn't happen, and there's really no sense in holding off longer. If I ever do get around to it, I'll pull more quotes to add. But I consider this complete as is. enjoy~

—

The Song

The Old Gods will call to you, From their ancient prisons they will sing. Dragons with wicked eyes and wicked hearts, On blacken'd wings does deceit take flight, The First of My children, lost to night.

—Canticle of Silence 3:6, Dissonant Verse

     “The Old Gods beckon, as they always have.” The Architect turned and paced to the other side of the cell. The shadows cast on the walls by the glowstone danced ominously. “That is what you hear. To my people, it is a call that we cannot ignore. It whispers to our blood and compels us to seek the Old Gods out. We search and search for their prisons, and when we find one, we touch the face of perfection and thus desecrate it forever.”

—Dragon Age: The Calling, chapter 6

     So close. We nearly reached him. Made it down to what looked like a dwarven thaig where the song was actually audible, real and thrumming through the air, not just in our heads. It rattled through the lyrium pillars and shook the earth beneath our feet to its dreadful tempo.

—[DAI] Note: Ancient Warden Logbook

     There were creatures in that land. Dark things that lurked in the corners. Cole couldn’t see them, and didn’t want to. He worried that they could see him, however. […]      And worse, there was the music. He didn’t know what it was, but it seemed to come from far, far off. It called to him, but not in a pleasant way— it had an urgency that sped his heart and made his blood burn. The dark creatures, the lurkers, they listened to it. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he could feel them out there, craning their necks, raising taloned hands toward that call.

—Dragon Age: Asunder, chapter 9

     As the griffon began to climb through the clouds that followed the Blight, Isseya heard a faint, strange melody seep into her mind. She had no sense of it as actual sound; rather, it seemed to come from within, almost as if she were humming the tune to herself.      She could never have imagined such a song, though. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard. Aching and ethereal, it seemed to pull her toward a memory of nostalgic bliss that she had somehow lost—but that she would do anything to recover. Anything at all. […]      “What was it?” the elf asked, shaken. […]      “The Archdemon.” […]      For the rest of their ride back to Antiva City, Isseya sat small and quiet on Blacktalon’s back, unable to reconcile the horrors of the darkspawn with the sweetness of their song.

—Dragon Age: Last Flight, chapter 3

The Chorus

     The faint sounds of movement ahead got more frequent, and along with them, they began to hear a strange humming. It was deep and alien, a reverberating sound that they felt in their chests and that made their skin crawl. […]      The deep humming was coming from [the creature. It] was moaning softly, almost chanting, and this moan built upon the sounds of many others behind it in the shadows. They hummed in unison, a hushed and deadly whisper the creatures spoke as one. […]      All of them walked as calmly as the first, shambling toward them while moaning and hissing softly. The sound was loud now, reverberating around them like a physical force. […]      They watched the darkspawn advance, their weapons held at the ready. Even with their prey cornered, the creatures did not accelerate. Their hum became louder, reached a hungry, fever pitch.

—Dragon Age: The Stolen Throne, chapter 14

     Were they digging? He had the impression that the masses of them were all engaged in some sort of industry, all united in moving great portions of the rock out of the cavern and expanding it even further. Yet there were no sounds of tools crashing against stone, no hammering sounds or grunts of exertion. All he could hear was a rhythmic groan, a keening pitch that it seemed each of the darkspawn contributed to. The sound of it made his skin crawl, and he realized that the chorus in the distance responded to it. Like a cat that arched its back to meet a brushing hand it became ecstatic; it surged and almost overwhelmed his senses.

—Dragon Age: The Calling, chapter 6

The Senses

     They were more than simply skilled at fighting darkspawn; they knew them intimately. They sensed their presence, sometimes even gleaned their intent.

—Dragon Age: The Calling, chapter 4

     He could feel the darkspawn out there now. Genevieve was right. It just took some time to become acclimated. They were at the edge of his consciousness, lurking in the shadows far out of sight. It was that same feeling when someone was standing behind you, and you didn’t hear them or sense them in any way; you just knew.

—Dragon Age: The Calling, chapter 5

     Bregan closed his eyes and carefully reached out with his senses. There were darkspawn all around him. Not in the same room, perhaps, but nearby. He could feel them tickling at the edge of his mind. As always, the sensation came with a feeling of foulness, as if a poison had seeped under his skin.

—Dragon Age: The Calling, chapter 2

     “There is a taint that is within the darkspawn […] A darkness that pervades us, compels us, drives us to rail against the light. It is in our blood and corrupts the very world around us.” The creature gestured toward Bregan with a withered, taloned hand. “It is also within your blood. It is what makes you what you are, what you sense in us and we in you.”

—Dragon Age: The Calling, chapter 2

Anders: Hmm. Hawke: What's wrong? Anders: I think [the Grey Wardens are] nearby. Anders: Or it could be darkspawn.

—Dragon Age II

     The hunter had a sensitivity to the taint that went far beyond any tracking ability he might have learned during his time with the Ash Warriors. He was always the first to sense the approach of darkspawn, and he could discern between the various breeds by their scent alone. Some of the Grey Wardens even used to claim that Kell could do the same with them, sense who was who from afar just as if they were darkspawn. If so, the hunter never commented on it.

—Dragon Age: The Calling, chapter 11

     She felt Bregan out there, felt him just the same as she felt the darkspawn. Every now and again she would turn a corner in the tunnels and would feel her brother’s presence on the edge of her senses, almost as if his scent had been carried to her somehow on an invisible wind.

—Dragon Age: The Calling, chapter 15

The Dreams

Alistair: Oh… and then there were the nightmares. Duncan said it was part of how we sense the darkspawn. We tap into their… well, I don't know what you'd call it. Their “group mind.” Alistair: And when we sleep, it's even worse. You learn to block it out after a while, but at first it's hard. It's supposed to be worse for those who Join during a Blight. How is it for you? Warden: Nightmares… yes, I know what you mean. Alistair: Some people never have much trouble, but that's rare. Others have trouble sleeping their entire life. They're just more sensitive, I suppose. Alistair: Everyone ends up the same, though. Once you reach a certain age, the real nightmares come. That's how a Grey Warden knows his time has come.

—Dragon Age: Origins

     The dream, when it came, was similar to the hundreds of dreams Fiona had suffered since she’d become a Grey Warden. Before, however, it had always felt as if she was looking on the dream from afar, hazy and easy to forget. Now it was crystal clear.      Fiona stood on a battlefield littered with dead men. All of them were soldiers in heavy armor, knights wearing the griffon standard of the order. Each had been brutally slaughtered. The smell of blood and decay hung thick and cloying in the air, the buzzing sound of flies nipping at her senses.      Overhead, the sky filled with an endless, roiling black cloud. It looked like ink spreading slowly in water, a great stain that blotted out the horizon. She had been told about this. The first sign of the Blight, said the Grey Wardens, is found in the clouds. When the mighty dragon rises, its corruption touches the world and spreads.      She was alone on that field of corpses. All alone. The wind picked up, a sickly breeze that carried with it the stench of carrion. A gloom fell upon her, and she stumbled as she watched something rise from out of the field of bodies nearby. It was enormous. A great, black thing that was as cold and terrible as anything she could have imagined.      Fear pulsed through her. Her heart raced, and she looked away. She didn’t want to see it. She threw her hands up in front of her eyes not to see it. Yet still she felt it coming. Her foot caught between two corpses and made her fall back on top of them. Dead flesh pressed against her and still she covered her eyes. Still she felt the darkness surging ever closer to her.      It was coming. And it was coming for her.

—Dragon Age: The Calling, chapter 14

The Calling

Hawke: You don't look well, Bethany. Are you injured? Bethany: Injured? I have the darkspawn taint forever in my veins, barely held in check by the Wardens' rituals. Bethany: I will never be well again.

—Dragon Age II

     At first, it was just a whisper. A creak in the door hinge I could put off oiling. But soon, all I could hear was the music. It was there when I swung my staff and wiped the sweat from my brow. It lingered in Lyam's laughter and stalked my dreams. I can't explain the sound—the song—but I knew. It's a poison that grows in the mind, then consumes the body.

—[DAI: The Descent] Codex Entry: Warden Ailsa's Diary

     It scratches at my thoughts, the music almost a voice, at once unearthly and beautiful. I found myself humming it aloud a few days past. Where once it intruded, it now feels a natural part of my mind's course. It coils around memories I hold dear—training with Ser Keller, riding in the moonlight, my mother's face the last time I saw her—and inserts itself into them, so that I could almost swear that music, that sense of a presence watching and calling, had always been a part of what I remember.

—[DAI] Codex Entry: Regarding the Calling

     She had seen enough of the corruption to last a lifetime, and somewhere off in the far distance was that strange sound, the beautiful whispering.      She didn’t want to listen to it, but couldn’t help herself. She closed her eyes and tried to pick out what the whisper was saying. Was it a song? Was it a name? It almost seemed that it was calling out to her, stroking her soul ever so softly. . . .

—Dragon Age: The Calling, chapter 14

     The humming sound, however, was stronger even than before. It was no longer something muted and distant; it was everywhere. It was behind the walls and under the floor; it filled the shadows and caressed his skin. There was a terrible beauty to it now, an awful yearning that pulsated within the sound, a tugging that pulled at the edge of his consciousness and yet frightened and nauseated him at the same time.      The humming had eclipsed any sense he had of the darkspawn. Any attempt he made to reach out with his mind to sense where the creatures were found only a wall of beautiful sound instead. Like a weed, it had insinuated itself into his consciousness, blocking out anything useful.

—Dragon Age: The Calling, chapter 6

     The far-off chorus had become a powerful symphony, a great swell of beautiful music that no longer pounded to get inside his head but instead tickled at the edges of his thoughts. It was far easier to ignore, but now he found it distracting. He found himself losing his train of thought whenever he listened.

—Dragon Age: The Calling, chapter 10

     The taint fogged her thoughts a little more with each passing morning. Her diary, once a detailed chronicle of every day’s thoughts, went neglected for weeks, sometimes months. She was losing her mind.      She wasn’t the only one, of course. It had gotten harder to tell the reality of the Blight from the horrors of her dreams. Sometimes she wasn’t sure which one she walked through, or which one she fought in. The elf had learned to recognize the confusion that sometimes passed over other senior Wardens’ faces. They, too, heard the Archdemon’s song echoing through their heads, a trifle louder every night. They, too, fought to block it out and to hide the signs from their comrades…

—Dragon Age: Last Flight, chapter 21

     My body is breaking down. The fingernails were the first to go. I started to itch all over, and when I scratched, they peeled back. Clumps of hair fell away. Then clumps of flesh.      I hear a song in my head. It's deafening. The most beautiful thing I've ever heard. But I don't hear it with my ears. It's in my brain. A blissful sound. This must be the call for which the darkspawn yearn, what causes them to dig so feverishly.      I'd still rather die. Suppose that's something.

—[DAI] Codex Entry: To Be Corrupted

     His skin itched terribly underneath those bandages, but he resisted the urge to peel them off. The pain throughout his body was dull but insistent, as if his body protested against this unfamiliar movement. The sluggishness made him wary. There was a thickness to his blood, a deliberateness to his heartbeat that made him feel like something alien was crawling inside of him and sapping his strength.      […His arms] were half covered in dark blotches. At first, he wondered if that was some kind of injury, or perhaps a bloodstain. But then he noticed the texture of the skin within those discolored areas: rough and withered, just as darkspawn flesh was. […]      Every part of his skin that wasn’t covered by the greyed cloth bandages was corrupted. It was like a network of black mold working its way across his entire body, and everywhere it touched he could feel a hot buzzing underneath the flesh. It was difficult to look at.

—Dragon Age: The Calling, chapter 6

     The Architect stared into Utha’s eyes and nothing happened at first. Then black veins began to appear along her hand where the darkspawn touched her. They became darker and darker, the veins branching until her entire hand was criss-crossed with them. […]      Her flesh withered and curled, the air filling with the foul stench of decay. […]      The stain on her skin spread, crawling up her neck and covering her face. Her coppery hair began to grey, and then it became white. Her long braid twisted and curled behind her, like a match that was burning itself into a cinder. Her eyes shot open, blood red, and she opened her mouth in a soundless scream... and what wisps remained of her hair simply fell out.      And then it was done.

—Dragon Age: The Calling, chapter 16

Bonus entry that made me go "hey what the fuck"

     What I remember most is its tongue flapping against a row of spiky teeth. I'd heard emissaries possessed the ability to speak, but the words were unnatural. They twisted and lurched as they left the creature's mouth, accompanied with a spray of saliva.      "Have you ever experienced living flesh ground between your teeth?" it asked Mila before biting through her throat.

—[DAI: The Descent] Codex Entry: Darkspawn Emissary

[rainandandy]

Hi! Could you do a Rain x reader fic where reader has a nightmare about Xenomorph chasing her and Rain comforts her?

Warnings: Angst, Xenomorph description, panic attack description

Word Count: 1142

Pairings: Rain Carradine X Fem! Reader

The pitch-black corridors of the station loomed around you, stretching infinitely into the darkness. Every breath you took echoed against the cold metal walls, a haunting reminder of the silence that had fallen after the others were lost. But this silence wasn’t comforting; it was the kind of silence that heralded something far worse.

You were alone. Or at least you thought you were. Every footstep, every laboured breath seemed amplified, like the sound was being consumed by something waiting, watching from the shadows. The shadows themselves seemed alive, shifting and curling like tendrils of smoke, threatening to swallow you whole.

Then, the hiss—a sound you would never forget, one that clawed into your soul and sent icy fingers of dread through your entire being. You whipped around, heart pounding, eyes wide, searching for the source. There it was, at the far end of the corridor, emerging from the shadows, its elongated head gleaming under the dim emergency lights. The xenomorph, its form a perfect amalgamation of terror, muscle, and predatory instinct.

You turned to run, but your feet felt as though they were stuck in molasses, each step dragging you down as if the station itself wanted to keep you there, to offer you up to the nightmare closing in behind you. The creature’s breath—hot, humid, rancid—was on your neck, closer with every heartbeat.

The walls began to close in, narrowing the corridor until it felt like you were squeezing through a vent. Panic surged through you, choking the air from your lungs. But worse, much worse, was the sight that stopped you cold: Rain.

She was ahead of you, in the narrow corridor, her face streaked with dirt and tears, a desperate look in her eyes as she reached out for you. But as you tried to move toward her, the xenomorph’s skeletal tail whipped around your leg, dragging you back, further into the darkness.

“No!” you screamed, your voice breaking with terror. You could see Rain’s mouth moving, but no sound reached you. The creature’s claws wrapped around you, its jagged teeth dripping with viscous saliva as it drew closer. You struggled, desperate to reach Rain, to save her, but your movements were sluggish, like fighting through a thick syrup. Rain’s eyes widened in horror as the xenomorph reared back, its inner jaw snapping out toward you.

Then it wasn’t you the creature was after. It lunged toward Rain, and you were helpless, forced to watch as it closed the gap between them in a heartbeat.

“RAIN!” you screamed, sitting up abruptly, your voice echoing in the small, darkened room.

Your chest heaved as you gasped for breath, the dream still clawing at the edges of your consciousness, refusing to release its hold on you. The room was silent, save for your ragged breathing and the faint hum of the station's life support systems. The small cabin you shared with Rain and Andy was a sanctuary now, but the dream had torn down all sense of security, leaving you raw and vulnerable.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, gentle but firm. “Hey, hey, it's okay. You're safe. We’re safe,” Rain’s voice was soft, full of warmth and concern.

Tears blurred your vision as you turned to face her. The moonlight filtered through the small window, casting a silver glow on her face. She was so close, so real, and it was that reality that finally started to pull you out of the nightmare’s grip.

But the terror wasn’t gone—it was lingering, seeping into your bones, making it hard to breathe. Your heart raced as if you were still running for your life. “I-I saw you, Rain… It was going to kill you. I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop it.”

Rain’s expression softened, her own heart aching as she saw the fear etched on your face. “Shhh, it’s okay. I’m right here. Nothing’s going to hurt you, not while I’m here.” She pulled you into her arms, cradling your head against her chest. “Listen to my heartbeat,” she whispered. “Just breathe with me.”

You tried to focus on the steady rhythm of her heart, grounding yourself in the moment, but the images from the dream kept flashing before your eyes. The xenomorph’s jagged teeth, the hopelessness of trying to escape… It was too much.

“I can’t…” you gasped, your voice breaking as a panic attack surged through you, gripping your chest like a vice.

Rain held you tighter, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “You’re safe,” she murmured, repeating the words like a mantra. “You’re safe, baby. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

The comfort of her touch, the calm in her voice, slowly started to penetrate the fog of fear enveloping you. “I was so scared,” you admitted, your voice trembling as you clung to her. “I can still feel it, like it’s still there.”

Rain leaned back slightly, cupping your face in her hands so you could see her clearly. “But it’s not here. It was just a dream. A horrible, horrible dream. But that’s all it is.”

You nodded, though the tears kept coming, your body still shaking. “I thought I lost you.”

“You didn’t,” she whispered, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “And you never will. We’ve been through too much to let anything tear us apart now.”

Rain continued to hold you, her presence a balm to your frayed nerves. She kissed your forehead gently, her lips lingering as if she could kiss away the fear itself. “You’re stronger than you know,” she said softly. “We both are. We survived. And we’ll keep surviving. Together.”

The word "together" hung in the air, a lifeline that you grabbed onto with both hands. Slowly, the panic began to ebb, replaced by the warmth of Rain’s embrace, the solid reality of her presence. You let out a shaky breath, the nightmare finally starting to lose its grip on your mind.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Rain replied, her voice filled with love. “We’ve been through so much. It’s okay to be scared. But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded, your body finally relaxing against her as the last remnants of fear slipped away. Rain held you until your breathing steadied, her touch never wavering.

“I love you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible as you started to drift off, the comfort of her arms pulling you back to sleep, this time a peaceful one.

Rain smiled softly, pressing another kiss to your temple. “I love you too. Always.”

As you fell back into a much-needed sleep, the lingering fear of the nightmare was no match for the reality of Rain’s love, her strength, and the promise that, no matter what, you would face whatever came next together.

[mochatsin]

WHEN THEY FEEL THEIR SINS ON MC

You’re a human, a vessel of various emotions and feelings. You’re far different from the brother’s who’s more affected by their own respective sins that dominate their emotions and personality. But being the avatars of their own sins, that means they can sense it on other demons and humans. You're no exception.

this is just a silly little thing stuck in my head. so just imagine if gluttony demons can feel other people's hunger or if a wrath demon can feel other's anger. enjoy !!

------------

Lucifer

As much as you try to hide it, Lucifer knows very well when he can feel the pride from you. At first it irritated him, especially when pride is imminent whenever you successfully forge a pact with his brothers. He saw that sense of pride as a threat to his loved ones when he had no clue why you needed to forge pacts. 

But when he gets to know you and your intentions better, he knows that this kind of pride comes from a good place like trying to fix his family. Afterall he can’t blame you for feeling that way when you’re able to bring the seven rulers to their knees. He’s thankful you never abused this power though or he would regret his decision of making a pact with you. 

Whenever you get a good grade in class, cast a powerful spell all on your own, or do a simple task any demon would see as small and easy, he feels how proud and happy you are when you accomplish anything that he could do with a single snap.

He has to remember that you’re a human, and doing what demons can normally do is something you’re allowed to take pride in. 

Feeling pride means he can also tell if it gets damaged. There was a time you were excited to show one of the brothers this spell you worked hard in practicing, but when Mammon said “Eh? That’s such a basic level though.” He didn’t mean to sound insensitive, but words slipped and Lucifer could tell you were hurt deeply. 

Lucifer immediately intervenes and scolds his brothers who undermine your efforts. “They’re a human who had little to no knowledge about magic until coming here to Devildom. Don’t speak to them that way or else.”

He would then turn to you with a gentle look in his eyes “MC, trust me when I say I was very impressed. I know you will become a powerful sorcerer. My brothers could use you as a role model to work harder themselves.” And you do become great with magic… really fast that it’s kind of scary.

When you show him a test you did well in, you were nervous at first since you know that Lucifer probably had perfect marks in it. Though he looks at you with a smile before congratulating you. He even offered to take you out for a treat as a reward.

He adores feeling the pride grow whenever he, the most powerful of the seven rulers, would compliment you and your hard work. He makes an effort to acknowledge you afterwards. Whether it’s pitching a good idea or doing well in a subject you struggled in. 

Absolutely loves knowing that you take pride when you see the brothers are getting along well. Lucifer knows that things have been less chaotic now that he has you by his side as war-level arguments are not as frequent these days. He knows things wouldn’t be like this without you around and he likes the influence you have on his brothers. You deserve to be proud of that.

Mammon

He is the embodiment of Greed and no one can ever compare to him, not when his sin has completely taken over him and his actions as everything he wants to do involves around the concept of getting rich regardless of the method. 

He was willing to bribe, hag, and steal if it meant he got his hands on what he wanted. It’s how his Greed works and he can’t control it.

The surprise he feels whenever there’s a sudden strong aura of sin coming from you, he’s never prepared for it at all. It happened the first time when he and Asmo took you to the mall, and he felt the greed from you.

You didn’t seem like the kind of person who would want material things, but maybe it’s fair when you’re surrounded by all these new and foreign products you can’t find in the human realm. 

You were staring at this well-crafted piece of jewelry, it was unlike anything you’ve seen in the human world and it was enchanting the way it glistens. Its glitters would dance inside like a galaxy of stars encapsulated in such a beautiful glass of your favorite color. You’re drawn to it. You want it. 

Though when Mammon asks you “something caught yer eye over there?” You turn to him with a small smile before shaking your head. You know you can’t afford it yet and you try to move on to forget about it.

It astonishes him that you don’t succumb to this greed despite how strong he can feel it from you. The self-control is admirable but he knows how sometimes it can eat him up inside, he can hardly imagine how you can walk away from it. 

Mammon tries to drag you and Asmo in the store where he feels your greed is strongest. He basically uses this sixth sense of his like a detector, where he keeps an eye on you whenever that sudden desire rises up and he inspects which one it is.

You wondered where he’s been off to whenever classes end until Beel tells you that he spotted him working in Hell’s kitchen once. Maybe he was trying to pay off some debt, since you saw Levi chasing him around the house the other day. 

Much to your surprise, you find Mammon by your door with the jewelry you were admiring the other day at hand as a gift. To Mammon, the big smile on your face was worth the blackhole in his pockets. 

You asked him why he would buy you something so expensive, but most importantly how would he have known you wanted this. You never told anyone after all. Mammon starts turning red, because there’s no way he can admit that he felt your Greed. So he’ll keep that secret for himself. 

He starts taking note whenever you start feeling Greed. They don’t happen as often but when it does, he’d want to see what caught your attention. It’s through these that he learns what were the things you like. It’s an upper hand he has against his brothers to know what's the perfect gift to you, but of course most of the time he can’t afford it anyways. 

Levi

Levi’s envy is the most evident when it involves his interests. If his brothers do better in school? Sports? Style? He wouldn’t really care about such things because it’s just not his thing. But whenever there’s a new wave of Ruri-chan merchandise and he doesn’t get it first, you can expect him to be sulking and throwing a fit on the group chat. 

He’s caught off guard when you were out in the mall one day and while you were trying to buy the latest album of your favorite band, you saw that some other demon already got the last copy.

The aura of envy was gradual and faint, but when that demon who got the copy gave you a nasty look, the spike of emotions was overwhelming for the otaku. 

He knows how envy is something he can feel from other demons, he always felt that when Asmo can’t get his hands on a new beauty product, or even with Beel when any of the brothers have the last extra cookie. But this is the first time in ages that he felt it’s been that strong coming from you. 

You were the last person he expected to feel this way, especially when you turned back to him with a smile. You tell him that you’ll just get a copy when the new batch releases but he definitely knows it's not okay. You waited for this for so long after all. 

Perhaps he could get you what you wanted on Akuzon? With the help of Satan’s connections of course. Levi never wants you to sit with such an uncomfortable feeling, he knows well how it’s hard to hold envy in. You indulge in his interests, he might as well do the same for you.

When that envy is directed towards another person, whether it's a demon or anyone else, he’d try to be comforting since none of his brothers can feel what you do. Unlike demons, humans are better at suppressing these sorts of emotions. 

Some demon is taller and has a better build than you? The other has better grades or better hair? It irritates you often and Levi can feel it. But when that envy starts turning into a form of insecurity then you best bet that he’s the first one to notice and try to do something about it. 

“M-MC um… I know I don't say this a lot but, I'm glad you’re my player two. T-the… best one I could ask for and— AGH DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!!!”

Giving you compliments is hard for him, and trying to not stutter with every word proved to be more difficult. But feeling the envy slowly disappear and seeing that smile on your face was worth it. He reminds himself that it’s for the sake of your self-esteem, he won’t allow you to look down on yourself!!

Satan

It took him many years and human lifespans to be able to master this kind of calm. For a demon that only knew rage, it was difficult for him to be able to control it. The amount of work it took for him to be the calm and respectable person that he is today, you can’t even imagine.

Though most of the time, that well built persona of his slips out and that monster gets unleashed. When that does happen, it’s very hard for him to control himself. Up to the point you or the brothers would have to intervene to stop him from ripping someone apart.

He’s calm, but inside he could feel the burning rage all the time. The wrath cannot compare to other demons, but there was one time that it did and it shocked him to feel such intensity radiating from someone else.

You were in the middle of doing a project that involves drawing a summoning circle for class. Satan was your partner and you were in charge of drawing the outlines for now while he studied the symbols needed for the summoning. 

It was going great until one of your classmates bumped onto your table, making your steady hand accidentally draw against the whole circle. You’re gonna have to redraw the outlines again just when you are about to finish. The demon saw the irritated look on your face and scoffed. 

“Not my fault you were in the way.” the demon would reply and leave. Satan was irritated of course, but he felt the sudden surge of rage from you. Like a match tossed onto gasoline, it burns through your soul. Though you were still calm on the outside because the last thing you need is to pick a fight.

He would pat your shoulder “MC, are you feeling… alright?” you would turn to him with such a gentle smile and say that everything is fine, but the rage was still there that your smile and words was kind of unsettling to him. 

Your wrath does not compare to him of course, but you were the last person he’d expect to feel this kind of burning fire since you’re so sweet and patient all the time. He wonders if this is why you were able to empathize with him whenever he struggles controlling his rage. Maybe you two are more alike than he realizes. So he helps you calm down and redo everything. 

A few minutes after what happened, you could see that the demon from earlier accidentally summoned a colony of fire ants instead of what was actually assigned, and he was punished by getting rid of every ant with his bare hands. No magic. 

Satan just smiles, maybe a certain someone must’ve written their symbols all wrong. He doesn’t play dirty tricks like this in class often, but he wouldn’t mind if it would help quench your wrath down. Though he reminds you to be more honest to him if you’re feeling upset about anything. 

He becomes more observant on your wrath levels, taking note of what ticks you off and when he should take you away from the situation or if he should intervene. Insensitive jokes? Bad day? Mammon stealing your things again? Satan is there to make sure you don’t tear something apart (as tempting as that image may be). 

Asmo

What frustrated Asmo at first was that his charms never seemed to work on you. Regardless of his magic or dashing looks, you remain unfazed and he wonders why. Demons or humans, all would be dancing at the palm of his fingers by now!

That doesn’t mean he isn’t going to keep trying though, it just fuels his excitement when he thinks about what he can do just to see that flustered look on your face. 

Sometimes he’s in a slump when one of his advances fails again. None of his brothers offered useful advice and he’s the Avatar of Lust! He should know every play in the book because one of them is bound to work. 

One day while you and the brothers were watching a movie in the living room, he was able to sense a waft of lust in the room and his eyes frantically searched for the source. Oh to his surprise to see that it was coming from you. 

The Lust comes from attraction, and a certain scene from this movie stirred up some feelings. You’re quiet about it and focused on the film, unaware that Asmo now has his eyes on you.

He started becoming more observant to the times he feels that faint aura. When this character in the film said some sweet romantic words, or maybe even something bold and daring, Asmo would pick up on those cues. 

From then on he would mimic the moves that would make you swoon and there is a devious smirk on his face whenever they work. He knows what are the right buttons to push and he’s loving every single reaction he gets from you. 

As fun as this is, he does love how he learns more about the new things you like. He finds out what pet names you like just and which love language you prefer, all by observing how strong your aura gets. Sometimes when he just does something sweet for you, he would feel the butterflies.

Given the kind demons he’s surrounded himself with, he only found out his senses aren’t just limited to sexual desire. It counts for attraction and he feels that more often when he’s around you. It’s a new and strange sensation, but it was welcomed. 

“You look absolutely stunning today sweetheart” he would always tell you every morning to feel those butterflies again. It’s a good mood booster for the both of you. 

If you’re at that point where you’re comfortable being intimate with him, Asmo would definitely use this sense like a meter to know when’s the best time to ask for kisses and… maybe something more. 

Beel 

It’s an understatement to say that Beel is just “hungry all the time.” He’s famished, with a never ending appetite and constant demand for food. 

When he goes too long without it, you can say that for a moment, he becomes Wrath. Though it doesn’t compare to Satan’s rampages, it still does quite a lot of property damage accompanied with a large bill and a 3 hour lecture from Lucifer. 

He never really pays attention when he feels the hunger from other demons whenever he would eat a meal meant for 5 people. Though he wondered why he never felt that from you when you first came down here in Devildom. 

It was only when you both visited purgatory hall did he feel the hunger from you when you saw all the baked goods Luke made for a taste testing session. It was the kind of hunger where he could say that your mouth would've been watering if you let it. 

He practices some restraint and lets you take the first few cupcakes and sugar cookies. As hungry as he was, he wanted you to enjoy it first because he knows that the moment he picks up a tray of sweets, it’s gone in a matter of seconds. 

Despite your hunger, you noticed how he’s staring at you (or the food) so intently and decided to offer him a cupcake. That made him look at you confusingly, why would you offer him the food you seem to be craving for so much?

“MC… do you not like the food in Devildom?” He asks since your Gluttony has never been this strong before “I guess it’s just that I haven't seen you enjoy food like this when we eat our dinners at the house.”

After you explained, it’s only then that he realized that because a lot of the food and ingredients were so foreign (and unsafe), it never triggered your appetite. 

He can’t really blame you when the menu consists of bat wings, bufo toads, and more creatures that would sound unappealing for a human. He never noticed the loss of appetite since he was too busy stuffing his own mouth with food. 

Beel took note whenever your hunger is satiated so he’d know what kind of food you’d want to eat. He also finds out which ones aren’t your fancy. Sweets treats? Savory things? Spicy ones? Beel will know which one you’re a glutton for. Would probably inform Lucifer to make sure some of your meals accommodate your tastes while staying here. 

Whenever he notices that you’re hungry, Beel would take you to certain restaurants (which is safe for humans) that he thinks you might like once he knows what your tastes are. He likes seeing the happy smile on your face when you eat something delicious. 

Beel tries to avoid eating the things that you like since he can really just eat anything else. You deserve to eat your comfort foods after all! But in the event that he does, accident or not, he’ll apologize to you nonstop.

Belphie

You would say that he could sense any sort of laziness radiating from demons, but he’s always asleep in the attic to even notice it. He’s aware of it regardless but it’s never really useful. 

Belphie felt it the most in this house whenever he would pass by Lucifer’s office. Always radiating with fatigue it’s almost infectious, though Belphie doesn’t really care much. It’s what he gets for working with Diavolo. 

However, there was one time he went down the kitchen to get some water and found you by the living room staying up to study. The coffee that Satan made for you wasn’t really working anymore and you’re the only one left in the living room trying to study. 

He felt how sluggish and heavy your aura was as you desperately tried to stay awake. There was a test upcoming and you wanted to learn all that you could, but it’s not working anymore and Belphie knew that when he walked up to you. 

“You know you’re not gonna get anything done at this point… it’s late, come on let's go to bed” normally you would decline his offer to sleep, but since you were so tired you agreed. You both slept peacefully in your room and he could tell that you were more energized than last night. 

Belphie started taking note of the times you’re feeling a little sleepy or lazy. Most of which happens in one of the classes you’re not really interested in. If not that, then it’s the amount of work you have to do as a human exchange representative or as someone babysitting seven demons. You need a break. 

He would be the one to remind you to rest if the sluggish aura around you was getting stronger. Belphie would always be the first to know that you’re tired before you could even realize it yourself, and in the end he’s always right. 

Whenever you have chores to do but are too tired, Belphie would ask (or nag) one of the brothers to do it for you. They have a hard time saying no if Belphie says it's for your sake. Most of the time it’s true, though he would sometimes use it as an excuse to get out of his own chores too. 

He noticed that you don’t really decline when you’re tired every time he asks you to nap with him. It’s a window of opportunity and he’s going to exploit it if that means you both get to cuddle up together in the attic or in your room. It’s a win for the both of you.  

[oldiesstationlover11607]

hihiiii tis i the one and only soupiie!!

okay, i LOVED that domestic tyler fic with the xmas livestream and was wondering if you'd make fluffy josh x reader where she's seen by fans at a concert and take pics with them and then while josh is running to his b stage drumkit, he kisses her and the fans take pics. then maybe after the concert some fluff with josh and tyler.

love love loooveee your writing, please never stop, its one of the few things keeping me sane rn 🧡🧡🧡

Barrier Kisses - Josh Dun x Reader

Warnings: Nothing hehe

Word Count: 1087

A/N: RAHH LOVE THIS SO MUCH! Hello soupiiiie!! Thank you for requesting something! I'm so glad you're enjoying my writing. It's kinda hard to keep it up considering how my requests have been fewer and fewer but I'm trying :) Please request another piece!!

The energy in the arena was nothing short of magical. I could feel it in my chest, the heavy thrum of bass and the sea of voices singing along with Tyler as the show reached its halfway point. The Clancy Tour was in full swing, and the fans were louder than ever — their excitement so infectious, I found myself smiling without even realizing it.

I stood tucked off to the side of the stage, close enough to watch Josh's every move but far enough to stay out of the spotlight. Tyler was on the main stage, delivering one of his iconic speeches, hyping the crowd up before Routines in the Night. Meanwhile, Josh was preparing for his run to the B-stage, ready for the song to start while Tyler stood under the stage with Mark.

I couldn’t help but feel a little thrill every time I saw Josh on stage, the way his presence just filled the entire arena. It wasn’t just the drumming, though that was always mesmerizing — it was the way he connected with the fans, like each beat he hit meant something to them. And to me.

Lost in the moment, I barely noticed the small group of fans standing near the barrier who had spotted me. I wasn’t exactly trying to keep a low profile, but I didn’t expect them to recognize me. Their eyes went wide, and then one of the girls waved me over, excitement practically bursting from her.

“Are you Josh’s girlfriend?” she asked, voice high-pitched with nerves but sweet as ever.

I felt my face flush, but I smiled. “Yeah, I am.”

Immediately, phones were pulled out and I laughed softly, shaking my head. I wasn’t exactly used to the attention, but it was kind of cute how excited they were. They asked for a few pictures, and I couldn’t say no. The girls were so kind, gushing about how much they loved Josh, and it made me proud to know that he had fans like them.

“Can we get a picture with you?” another girl asked.

“Of course!” I agreed, stepping over closer to the barrier and posing with them.

We chatted a bit about the tour, their favorite songs, and how long they’d been following the band. I could tell how much the show meant to them, and it made my heart swell knowing Josh and Tyler could bring that kind of joy into people’s lives.

“Do you think we could get a picture of you and Josh?” one of them asked with wide, hopeful eyes.

I laughed, feeling my face heat up again. “I think he’s a little busy for that right now,” I said, glancing back toward the stage where Tyler was winding down his speech. Josh was waiting in the wings, just a few feet away, already prepared to make his sprint toward the B-stage.

Right on cue, the lights shifted, casting everything in deep reds and golds, the perfect backdrop for his run. I turned to see Josh glance over at me, that unmistakable smile on his face. My heart skipped a beat. It always did when he looked at me like that — like I was the only person in the room.

And then, without warning, he started jogging over.  The fans around us squealed in surprise, and my eyes widened as he came closer.

He didn’t stop running, just slowed enough to lean in and press a quick kiss to my lips. It was so fast but so sweet, leaving me blushing as the fans around us erupted into excited cheers.

The sound of phones clicking and capturing the moment filled the air, and I was half-laughing, half-shocked by how casual Josh had made it all seem. He just flashed me another grin and took off again, heading toward the B-stage to continue the show as if nothing had happened.

My heart raced as I turned back toward the fans, who were all wide-eyed and giggling, holding up their phones like trophies.

“Did you see that?” one of them gasped. “That was so cute!”

I just laughed, feeling giddy myself. “Yeah, he's… kind of perfect, huh?”

The rest of the concert felt like a blur. Every time Josh’s drum beats echoed through the arena, I could feel the memory of that quick kiss lingering in my mind. And from the way the fans nearby kept sneaking glances at me, I knew they'd be talking about it for weeks.

After the show, the backstage area was quieter, though still buzzing with the after-show energy that always seemed to linger. I made my way through the halls, weaving past crew members and friends until I found Josh in the green room, towel around his neck, sweat still glistening on his skin from the performance. Tyler was with him, lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone.

“There she is!” Josh beamed, pushing off the arm of the couch to meet me halfway. He pulled me into a warm, post-show hug, the kind that always made me feel like home.

“You really kissed me in front of everyone?” I teased, poking him in the chest as I looked up at him, but I couldn’t hide the smile on my face.

Josh chuckled, his hand coming up to brush a stray hair from my face. “Couldn’t help it,” he said, eyes soft. “I saw you there, and I just… had to.”

Tyler snorted from the couch. “Real smooth, Josh.”

Josh rolled his eyes, still grinning. “You’re just jealous because Jenna’s not here tonight.”

Tyler held up his hands in mock defense. “Hey, I’m just saying — it was pretty bold, man. Risky move, but I respect it.”

I laughed, leaning into Josh’s side, his arm wrapping around me protectively. “Well, the fans loved it,” I said, thinking back to all the excited faces and cameras. “They were snapping pictures like crazy.”

Josh leaned down and kissed the top of my head, softer this time, a little more private. “Good,” he murmured. “Maybe I’ll make it a habit.”

Tyler groaned dramatically. “Please, spare us.”

Josh just grinned wider, pulling me closer as we all sank into the easy, comfortable feeling that came after a successful show. It was moments like this — the quiet in the storm, the laughter and love we shared — that made everything worth it.

And as I rested my head against Josh’s shoulder, I couldn’t help but think that this life, this wild, crazy life with him, was more than I could’ve ever dreamed of.

//

REQUESTS OPEN

[unsoundedcomic]

How much does bastion have to thank Sessine for the port idea? Seems like something too convenient for her to be a coincidence

She needed an undead man to serve as Sette's bodyguard and gate to the khert, and as far as she can tell, the process only works on a tacit caster. Duane happened to fit the bill. A lot of her timeframe revolved around when he was killed. He was always going to die before he became a Composer, but Bastion showing up and introducing his plod scheme put the fire needed in Lemuel's fellow conspirators to make it happen when it did. These are very tiny details but Bastion doesn't show up with a zombie installation pamphlet and a sales pitch; he happens to be there to meet with Shadwe and whoops, starts a conversation about his necromantic theories with the right people and woo, doesn't it just lead to some interesting new motivations.

Mistress of Coincidence, she called herself. But Sessine makes all the coincidences. She looks for convenient figures and junctures in history, swoops in to tweak them, and then guides the outcomes towards her purposes.

Bastion grew up working on a plantation where neck apparatuses were used. He apprenticed to a Black Tongue who'd mastered distillations and soul mapping. He was personally motivated to cure the problem of death after much of his family died of plague. He was the perfect little coincidence of a man to tweak, nudge, and guide.

Circumstances are convenient because the Lady has made them so. She's the director of a play that she has perfectly cast.

[ju-nebugg]

okay people here’s a proposition for you that i’ve been thinking about nonstop lately

CORNLEY DOES SWEENEY TODD

if this has been done before i apologize, but i haven’t seen it so i figured i’d compile my thoughts!

i know it’s sondheim. i know they’re not necessarily the most musically inclined (cough cough nativity cough cough) would chris do it anyway? absolutely he would. would it go horribly wrong? obviously.

i’m gonna put the bulk of the text under the cut so i don’t ruin people’s scrolling but if you’re interested i’ve got a LOT written down!

okay initial casting:

- CHRIS is SWEENEY. i think people would roll their eyes at that but he would SO enjoy the drama of it all. he seems a bit too posh for the role but i think with the right stage makeup and a month or so without a haircut he could pull it off. he loves a good descent into madness and wants to try being all broody. his voice isn’t QUITE low enough for it though so they have to pitch up most of the songs a step or two. it’s a pain.

- ANNIE is MRS. LOVETT. i think this casting is absolutely perfect tbh, she would be SO GOOD at the manic, over the top energy and i think she’d love to go a little feral. character voice!! wild physicality!! annie is perfect!! and just imagine the VOCALS. this would probably be the best performance in the show. props to her <3

- SANDRA is JOHANNA. yeah, basic, but it works. obviously sandra can do the whole damsel thing pretty well, but she could probably beg great the bit of madness that johanna falls into in the second act as well! easy casting.

- just as easily, MAX is clearly ANTHONY. sweet, naive boy who’s desperately in love. no deliberation necessary. he’s pure and perfect and definitely plays up the innocence.

- ROBERT is JUDGE TURPIN. i think he can definitely be menacing enough, and would totally enjoy playing opposite chris in this role because he can mess with him a lot.

- DENNIS is the BEADLE. love putting him in a duo with robert, but also i think there are lots of opportunities for comedy with him in this role (see below)

- LUCY is TOBY!!! we got a hint of lucy as little orphan boy in christmas carol and i think she’d do a really good job with this role! it’s the biggest one she’s had with cornley so far and i’m sure she’d be nervous but the audience would ADORE her.

- VANESSA is the BEGGAR WOMAN/LUCY BARKER. this casting has the possibility of either a ridiculously good performance or a VERY awkward one. she’d probably feel very self-conscious about being so unhinged and wild, but hopefully she’d get into more as the show progresses.

- JONATHAN is PIRELLI and JONAS FOGG. i want to see greg tannahill with a silly italian accent and then a silly irish accent. that’s all. also he’d kill it.

- TREVOR is doing all of his wonderful tech stuff and also stands in as a bunch of the people that sweeney kills! and also some other stuff lmao

running bits:

- lots of mishaps with the blood. nothing working the way it’s supposed to. many necks begin spraying blood at the completely wrong times (very much like chris’s unfortunate gunshot bit in harper’s locket). they brush it off as some sort of plague that’s been affecting the whole of london. chris is stained all over with red as early as “worst pies”

- they actually try to make sweeney’s chair-chute work in real time, dropping actors (mainly trevor) directly from the barbershop on the second level into the “basement” of the shop, and it goes pretty badly. almost every time they use it trevor almost gets stuck, and he gets out somehow (occasionally with some smoke or crashes ptgw-elevator style yk yk)

- whenever vanessa as the beggar woman calls out for the beadle, dennis comes on stage, and they keep having to shoo him off

- one member of the ensemble is consistently off tempo by one or two beats, either vocally or with the dance. the music is supposed to feel discordant but this just feels wrong lmao

- there are a lot of delays. sondheim always requires cues to be TIGHT and PRECISE and cornley is consistently off the mark on that. i will elaborate below.

scene by scene:

- opening is decent but chris gets stuck on his entrance or something and so the strings just sorta go for a while and they wait and wait and wait for him to pop out and then he finally does

- at one point during worst pies, something falls off of annie’s costume (a fake eyelash or something) and into the pie she needs to give chris. he sees this. they both panic for a second but the song is so fast that they can’t really take it out

- they get to “if you doubt it take a bite” and just pause and stare at each other in fear and chris slowwwwwly eats it

- the ensuing disgust is genuine

- during “poor thing”, the flashback of his wife is supposed to be recorded and projected on the back of the stage. as it goes with cornley and projectors, something else is shown, ala dennis’s birthday in ccgw, and annie just continues to sing over it

- it’s nothing too horrible, just embarrassing

- maybe somehow the events in the video follow along with the lyrics in an ironic way? i don’t have a specific idea for this yet so lmk if you think of one

- when chris throws his arm up with the razor at the end of “my friends”, the blade goes flying into the audience. screams are heard. they proceed as normal.

- there’s GOTTA be something with the birds after “ah miss”, i don’t have ideas but im sure someone will

- pirelli’s miracle elixir is wild. lucy is doing great but BOTH of her wigs come off with the hat when she has her big reveal, and ends up doing the song about her pin-curled real hair and everyone just goes along with it

- ahhh, classic jonathan moment. during pirelli’s, there’s a little facade with a door that jonathan is supposed to burst out of at the end for the big button. of course, it doesn’t work. he can’t get the door open, everyone waits in silence and watches the knob jiggle. he walks around the side and they all gasp again and carry on

- “ladies and their sensitivities” starts out well but then robert starts singing over the top to be heard, and sandra fights back, and by the end everyone is screaming

- robert is a total pain during pretty women etc

- max gets held up during pretty women somehow and doesn’t burst in when he’s supposed to, chris is waiting to kill turpin but without max’s cue we have a lodge-style “ohhhh im gonna do it” kinda thing and they end up whistling more back and forth until max arrives

- for some reason they make annie run all the way up and down the stairs each time she gets interrupted in “god that’s good.” her frustration with sweeney and her total exhaustion is not false.

- dennis parlor songs. say no more.

- of course, there has to be a moment where vanessa is forced to improvise. i’d go with one of her little crazy lullabies being dragged out because the music cuts off (during the end of city on fire, maybe?) and she has to come up with more wild babble and it’s so uncomfortable for everyone lmao

- during “by the sea,” they try to have a silly little dream sequence of the beach with puppets of seagulls and fish. i’ll let you use your imagination there.

- similar to pretty women, robert keeps adding to the ending scene so chris can’t kill him. something like:

- “the face of a barber, the face of a prisoner isn’t memorable” or whatever the line is

- “it really isn’t. who are you?”

- long, frustrated chris bean pause. “…surely you know me, sir.”

- “not at all.”

- “benjamin barker?”

- “you certainly look like a barker. shave your own face for once, dog.”

- “robert—“

- “is that your name? i’ve never met a robert, sir.”

- and so on and so forth until chris just walks over and does the throat slit without the cue

- when vanessa is supposed to go down the chute at the end as lucy’s body, she gets stuck and annie pulls trevor out in a bad wig as a stand-in body for chris to weep over. robert is supposed to fall out of the chute still in the process of dying, but he gets stuck behind vanessa and just makes agonized noises from inside the chute. it makes for a very strange image. he continues to make these noises throughout the scene after he’s supposed to be fully dead, and it undercuts the drama quite a bit.

- i’m sure there’s more but i’m too excited to share this so i’m gonna cut myself off there, please reblog with any of your own thoughts!

[dozing-marshmallow]

OKAY OKAY, hello again!! loved the nibling reader you wrote and just had to write it again!!! (if you couldn't tell im a sucker for platonic family hcs <3)

this time, this request is quite angsty?? ig nibling!reader getting their feelings hurt (either by duncan, heather, or whoever you decide to choose!) you can decide if they either run to chris to cry to, or if they run away to a more.. deserted(??) area of the island. (bonus points if after reader feels better, leshawna comforts them <:]) thank yeww!!

HIYAAA!! Lovely seeing you again with another appreciated request, and to hear that you are happy with how I interpret a Chris nibling reader! It means a lot ! <3 

As always, have an enjoyable reading experience! 😊

ANGSTY! CHRIS MCLEAN’S NIBLING! READER HEADCANONS

Heather was on the chopping block.

She needed to do something urgently. The day wasn’t getting any earlier. Everyone was itching to cast her name out of the competition.

Immunity wasn’t in her favour this time.

She needs to find a reason asap to not be kicked out tonight. That there was actually someone around that was a much bigger threat to everyon-

...Everyone?

...

Jackpot.

“You know that...toy Chris’ nibling has? I need you to get it for me.” Heather beseeched bluntly to Lindsay, hours before the elimination ceremony, in the whistling privacy of the forest.

“Um, sure?” The blonde’s voice high pitched from stupidity agreed,“But why can’t you go ask yourself? (Y/N) doesn’t bite! Not people!”

“Because Lindsay...I...gotta make sure I’m presentable! My hands need to be in perfect condition.” It was a strange excuse, but Lindsay was narrow.

“Ohh, right! Gotcha.” If anything, she found relatability in such empty words.

Too easy,“When you get it, come straight back here. You can remember that, can’t you?”

“Ohh, totally! In geography, I-“

“Go get the teddy.” Heather interrupts dismissively.

“Okay...” she watches moody Lindsay’s height get smaller and smaller as she disappears more and more to carry out one last request.

You were sitting on the sand with your legs spread out when you saw the pretty blonde girl approach you,“Hi Lindsay!”

“Hii (Y/N)! Is that Mrs Maple?” She pointed at the stuffed bear, dressed in a shirt of the Canada flag.

You nod,“She’s having a suntan!”

“Oooo, she’s a lot like me! We both love being trendy!” Ask to get the teddy, ask to get the teddy,“Could I hold her? I...wanna see if we’re really on the same wavelength!” She zealously asks.

You hesitate. You never really let that happen.

You hold Mrs Maple by her underarms and stare far into her black eyes, before you nod and hand her over.

“Thanks! Aww... It’s such a cute bear!...Oh...wait...” She remembers her objection,  and gawks back at you,“I think I hear her talking! She said she wants me to uh, get some syrup for her! Gotta go!”

Before you could protest, she races away. 

That’s weird... Mrs Maple is shy when she meets new people...

Oh! It must be a coverup for a game of tag.

Thus, you got to your feet and ran the same way she did, following her footprints in the sand, smiling. Challenge accepted!

“Hey...! Heather!” She wheezes, holding the teddy to her,“I got it!”

“Good.” She hears a distant “Wait up!” which melts a glare on her face to Lindsay,“You let them follow you?”

“Ohh... I didn’t know they would. But they sound like they’re having fun!” Lindsay found much virtue in it.

“Yeah... A lot of fun.” The wicked glimmer of Heather’s smile shifts to the blades of a pair of scissors she sharpened out, offering them to Lindsay,“Cut the head off.”

...

Lindsay is mortified.

“Wh-What?!” She stutters, clearly having the full ugly picture confidential to her up until now,“I don’t understand, I-I thought you wanted it to see it!”

“Yeah, and to mutilate it.” She snaps the scissors together,“Take.”

“I can’t! I won’t!” She yelled, holding Mrs Maple to the other side,“This teddy is (Y/N)’s whole astronomy, and she didn’t do anything to deserve decapitation! Besides, I-I was the one that took it so, it’d make it look like it was my idea!”

“Right on.” Heather snarled, Lindsay’s out of nowhere refusal not being part of the plan- she could threaten her position in the alliance, but eh, not much of a point if... Oh well. She did do the difficult part so there was nothing hard about snatching the teddy right from Lindsay’s hands and rapidly tearing the head off faster than she could blink.

“Heather! What are you doing?!” She screeched.

The sick image of stuffed cotton overflowing from both ends of the teddy to the ground.

Mrs Maple’s head was now a teddy of its own.

“There.” She pushes the two pieces back into Lindsay’s shaking hands,“Now you can give this back. Or should I say, these.” A malicious smile raises on her pale lips.

“Oh my God... You’re gonna be in so much trouble!” 

“No. You’re gonna be in so much trouble.” Heather reiterated victoriously,“Later!”

She sprints away.

“Hey! Come back, this is your doing!” official that Heather wasn’t going to come back, Lindsay bites down on her bottom lip as she desperately tried useless methods of fixing it such as seeing if the head could stay on the neck by itself or licking her finger to try stick the separated body parts together.

Nothing worked.

I...I didn’t know bears bleed white fluff!

“Lindsay...?”

The one voice she wished she didn’t hear then.

She swiftly hides her hands behind her back and faces the small child, whose shoes and hands were dirty from running and falling, twitching on a nervous smile,“(Y/N)! Y-You’re here! That’s so...great!”

“Could I have Mrs Maple back now please? Her social battery must be so dead by now...” you asked, coming towards her wobbly from running so much.

“Oh um, well, see uh...” her falling on her words didn’t help her case. Hey! She can’t do these things under pressure!

Your face drops,“You...lost her?”

“No! She’s...” she sighs, divulging her heavy hands,“Here. I-I can explain-!”

Immediately, your eyes stung deeper than a wasp’s.

She was showing you your worst nightmare.

Someone you trusted.

“What...?” It was rather unsightly. It... This couldn’t be happening...

“I promise I didn’t do it! It was Heather! It was Heather’s idea, I swear! I didn’t know she wanted to do that!” Lindsay broke down to plead her innocence, guilt stronger than her mascara.

Pulse bellowed in your ears,“Heather...did this?”

A sweet baby returning lifeless by the neglect of the babysitter. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry,“I...It’s okay...It’s...okay.”

Proving wrong after five seconds of eerie silence, by the destructive wave of your cries. Before Lindsay could try consoling you (try being very needed), you ran away.

How could you do that? Trust Lindsay of all people? You’ve never had a greater ocean of self hatred flood your insides.

Oh man it did not feel nice.

Chris didn’t predict his nibling to run to him bawling, so he was very caught by surprise. It took him time to properly ask what was wrong given that he had to fully acknowledge that you were hurt, tremendously.

You’re so overwhelmed, you can barely speak. Your wails hold you by the throat and your face never more pinched. All Chris could do is hold you and wait for you to calm down enough to vocalise the root of your distress; whoever was responsible for that was done for.

You hiccuped,“M-My ted...ted... H-Hea...Heath...Heath...”

“Yeah, I can’t understand you,“ he nods at Chef to get a cup of water. Once obtained, he gently urged you to take your head off his body so you could drink it.

Already, your breathing was restoring back to normal and your mouth was empty.

“Better? Alright.” He pats a tissue to your face,“Tell Uncle Chris what’s gotten you all choked up.”

The evocation of it was enough to get you bawling again, and you felt that you had already burdened your uncle enough by disrupting his chat with Chef. So you decide to put the first line of context into words,“I gave Mrs Maple to Lindsay and...” then deciding to show him the pieces. He could figure it out, he’s smart.

“Oh sweet child.” he takes them in his hands, wrinkles forming under his dilated eyes in pure perturbation from what he was seeing. No wonder you were so devastated! He’ll admit, he kinda expected something like this, but not by the intention of other people,“Lindsay did this?”

“I... I don’t know...” your head is light,“She kept saying it’s Heather’s fault, but... I’m still upset I gave it to her in the first place...”

“We’ll check the camera footage, but either way, somebody isn’t going to go through just elimination tonight.” He’ll make sure of that. He takes his sight off you to place the parts of your beloved teddy down on the table, being very gravely mistaken for something else.

“Don’t throw her away!” You shriek, pulling onto his shirt of dark turquoise to prevent him from such,“Please, I’ve had her for a long time! Don’t make me get rid of her!”

He’s once again dismayed, but his tone grew resistance this time,“We won’t be doing that. It’s just the head that came off, soo we’ll sew it back on and maybe clean her. She’ll be as good as new.”

You wipe your nose,“Really?” Thank God.

He nods, stroking the top of your head,“I’ll have Chef work on it right away. As for me, I have other business to attend to. It’s all gonna be solved, I promise.”

Your tears were no more,“Thanks, Chris...” you’re serious. You don’t know what you would’ve done if he wasn’t there,“Do you think we could...play board games tonight?”

“Totally!” Best uncle ever,“We’ll do all your favourite games and we can stay up allll night. How’s that sound?” 

See? Chris wasn’t exactly the best at people comforting, but when it came to the very few people he held dear, that’s when he’s serious.

Knowing how teenagers were, especially of Heather’s textbook, he couldn’t expect a lecture to turn her heart.

But he did enforce a warning to them that harassment was off limits on those who weren’t participating.

How?

You don’t want to know.

“Hey sweetie.” Leshawna came and sat next to you during your wait for your uncle to tell you he’s free to begin board game night,“How are ya? Feeling a little bit better?” By this time, Mrs Maple was one piece again. 

You’re way too disturbed to treat her the slightest of play,“Yeah... I just... I never felt so sad in my life. I practically watched someone close to me die. When...I saw that...she was torn in two, so did my heart.”

“Aww.” she curves her hand around you and rests her head on yours,“Sorry you went through that, some people can be so miserable. You ain’t meant to be feeling all this sad, gloomy things we teens do. You just a kid!”

“I’m never giving Mrs Maple to anyone again.” Your decision thrived of bitterness.

“And that’s completely fine. She’s your toy, no one should force you to do anything you don’t wanna with her. It’s alright to be hurt, but you gotta make sure that the way you handle it is the best way to let you move on sooner.”

“Is...Is Heather going home tonight?” you needed to know. It may have been there, but you needed to hear it.

“Oh, totally. Girl dug her own grave and now, she may need to retake her passport photo.” Leshawna chuckles at the thought,“I mean, to go after a kid who did nothing and still be too much of a chicken to own up? Way out of line.”

“Will I always have to meet someone as nasty as her...?” Your puffy eyes set back to the newly placed stitches on Mrs Maple’s neck.

Leshawna sighs, rubbing your shoulder,“Unfortunately in this world we live in, there’s all kinds of sick freaks and Heather is just one of them. But you shouldn’t waste your life worryin’ about them, because there’s also really great people in your life that will always wanna look out for you, and it’s them you really wanna spend time on, ain’t it?”

“Like you?”

She smiled,“Come here, sugar.”

You felt safe enough to let Mrs Maple join in. Leshawna...she’s amazing. And would make a great big sister, if she wasn’t one already.��️🩹

[meganechan05]

Trying to read as much as I can tonight from the King-Ohger Official Perfect Book so here are some notes:

The original pitch Omori-P gave to TakaMina didn't involve bugs at all, only a team of Kings. It only ended up having a bug motif because their conversation about how each King's country works which turned into connection to bugs.

TakaMina showed up to a production meeting with a 16-page pitch on what he wants to do for the show including character, settings, and overall plot.

The two did have ideas on connecting KingOh to previous sentai teams but scrapped it in favor of making KingOh being a standalone team.

The Kyoryuger episodes were done solely for the anniversary. The only reason they managed to make it work was because they already had plans on making Caucus Kabuto Castle a spaceship.

They didn't want to do KingDon at all because it would break the flow of how KingOh worked. But when they finally decided to do it, they had to discuss with Kato-D a lot and get his input as he's worked on Donbros.

Prince showing up in Episode 40 was a last-minute decision because Sakamoto and Kaneko already submitted the script for KingKyoryu V-Cine and they needed to make sure it'd make sense.

The two praised KingOh but most of their focus was on Kyoryuger which was why the V-Cine felt more like a Kyoryuger movie than a crossover movie.

Omori was probably the most level-headed of the Main 3. While working on the idol episode, everyone in the cast and crew including Sony PCL who gave them the LCD screen went crazy with production. Omori questioned their sanity as he believed they didn't have to go that far for a joke episode. (Yes, they did. KingOh needed the silly break)

Costume designs actually struggled a bit with the ranger suits. Because of the inclusion of armor and bug motif, they had to be extra careful to not make it like Rider. To make it more Sentai, they decided on having the visors be a big piece in the shape of the bugs. The proportions had to be skewed in order to make the visors work.

Kamakiri's is the only visor that faces the bug from the front rather than the back like the rest (also the only Main Shugod who faces to the side in the Soul). When it was decided KamakiriOhger was going to be female, they made sure the visor didn't look too sharp.

PapillonOhger being purple was a decision made by Toei.

They were made to be neither male or female when designing. When designing PapillonOhger, they went through 5 different shades of purple before settling on the final product.

The belt is the thinnest in history as its only use is to store the OhgerCalibur. They added the phone to the front even though the Kings never takes said Hotlines out while transformed.

The OhgerCaliburs were designed with the decision there weren't going to be any additions made to them. Most of the design struggles was how each switch was designed and used.

The King's Weapon was hard to design as it's a 5-way weapon that connects to the Calibur but they were happy it ended up working out.

No idea if I'll read more but these are very interesting to note.