#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 was your day, tesoro?” Theo asked, pressing a small kiss to the side of your head.

“It was good. What about yours?” 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!)

[solxamber]

I’ve been loving the Holiday Event so far! I’d like to ask for Ramshackle, 6, Fluff if that’s alright?

ending the event with skully!

Bewitched || Skully J. Graves

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "Say that again" ; Genre: Fluff

Skully’s fingers animatedly traced patterns in the air as he spoke, his eyes sparkling with an almost feverish passion.

“And you see, the true essence of Halloween isn’t just the decorations or the costumes—it’s the solemnity! The quiet reverence for the macabre! Jack Skellington understands this! The others… they don’t. They simply can’t fathom—”

You rested your chin in your palm, contently watching him pace back and forth. His voice, usually measured and elegant, rose in excitement as he delved deeper into his passionate diatribe about the perfect Halloween.

But then, without warning, he stopped mid-sentence. He glanced at you, an uncharacteristic hesitance softening his expression.

“Ah… I’ve been rambling, haven’t I?” His tone turned self-deprecating, his usual confidence faltering. “I must apologize. I wouldn’t want to bore you or appear… insufferable.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What? No, I was listening.”

“Really?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course. I want to hear more.”

For a moment, Skully didn’t respond, his expression frozen in surprise. Then, slowly, his face lit up, brighter than you’d ever seen it.

“You…” His voice quivered slightly, a mix of disbelief and unrestrained joy. “You genuinely wish to hear more? Can you say that again?”

You nodded, your smile widening at the way his excitement returned tenfold. "Tell me more, Skully."

With a delighted laugh, Skully reached out and grasped your hands in his. He brought them up to his lips, pressing a reverent kiss to your knuckles. “Ah! What a blessing it is to have someone so understanding, so kind! Truly, you are a marvel among people!”

Your heart did an impressive somersault as his lips brushed your skin. It wasn’t like you hadn’t noticed Skully’s dramatic tendencies before, but being on the receiving end was a whole different story.

As if oblivious to your rapidly reddening face, Skully continued holding your hands as he resumed his Halloween musings.

“Now, as I was saying, the ideal Halloween requires an ambiance of solemnity! Imagine, if you will, an orchestra playing a haunting overture while the moon casts shadows upon a pitch-black room…”

His voice flowed on, and you found yourself paying less attention to the words and more to the warmth of his hands over yours, the earnest gleam in his eyes, and the joy in his smile.

“Skully,” you murmured, your cheeks burning as he turned to you mid-ramble.

“Yes, my dear?”

“My hands… you’re still holding them.”

It took a few seconds for your words to register. His eyes widened, and he abruptly let go, his usual composure momentarily shattered. “Oh! My sincerest apologies! I—I didn’t mean to overstep—”

You laughed, cutting through his flustered apologies. “It’s fine, really.”

Skully’s face softened, his lips twitching into a smile. “You’re remarkable, you know that? To have someone who listens, who encourages me… It means more than words can express.”

The earnestness in his tone made your heart swell, and you reached out to clasp his hands again. “I’ll always listen, Skully.”

His face reddened, but the grin he gave you was one of pure, unadulterated happiness. “Then I shall ensure my plans are always worthy of your attention, my dear confidant!”

And with that, Skully returned to his impassioned rambling, your hand still comfortably tucked in his as he spoke of solemn Halloweens and haunting overtures—each word spoken with the joy of knowing someone truly cared.

he's still alive and lives in ramshackle btw, Yana told me herself

Masterlist

[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.

[rafecamerons-national-anthem]

HAPPY BARK-DREW STARKEY

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 Drew and Y/N visit a shelter just to look and leave with a mischievous puppy.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

It started as a lazy Saturday morning, the kind where Drew Starkey and Y/N could enjoy the rare luxury of sleeping in. The sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting warm streaks across their shared apartment. Drew was sprawled across the couch, flipping through streaming options while Y/N scrolled on her phone, her feet tucked under his legs for warmth.

“Did you see this?” Y/N suddenly asked, holding her phone out toward him.

He glanced up from the TV. “What?”

“The animal shelter downtown is hosting an adoption event today,” she said, her voice tinged with excitement. “They’re waiving all the adoption fees.”

Drew raised an eyebrow. “I thought we agreed we’re not ready for a pet yet.”

Y/N shrugged, an innocent smile creeping onto her face. “We could just look. It’s not like we’re committing to anything.”

Drew sighed, though he knew he was already losing the battle. “You’re dangerous, you know that? We’ll go look, but I’m not carrying a leash out of there, okay?”

“Okay,” Y/N said, but the gleam in her eyes said otherwise.

The shelter was a bustling hive of activity when they arrived, with volunteers greeting visitors and happy barks and meows echoing through the halls. Drew held the door open as Y/N stepped inside, immediately drawn toward a row of kennels where dogs of all sizes wagged their tails enthusiastically.

“I don’t know how anyone works here without adopting every single one of them,” Y/N said, crouching in front of a cage housing a small, scruffy terrier.

Drew smiled, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. “Yeah, I’d be terrible at it. They’d all end up at my place.”

They walked through the rows together, Y/N stopping at nearly every kennel to coo at the dogs. Drew found himself enjoying her enthusiasm, even if he was still wary about the idea of actually adopting one.

And then they saw him.

In the far corner of the room, a tiny golden puppy sat alone in a kennel, his oversized paws sprawled out in front of him. His ears flopped comically over his head, and his soulful brown eyes locked onto them the moment they approached.

“Drew,” Y/N whispered, clutching his arm. “Look at him.”

The puppy tilted his head, letting out a soft, high pitched bark. Drew crouched down to get a better look.

“He’s cute,” Drew admitted.

“He’s perfect,” Y/N corrected. She glanced at the tag on his kennel. “It says his name is Charlie. Three months old. He’s still a baby.”

Drew rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the beginnings of a smile tug at his lips. “We’re just looking, remember?”

“Right, right,” Y/N said, though she was already waving down one of the volunteers.

Within minutes, they were in a small playroom with Charlie, who bounded toward them with all the uncoordinated energy of a puppy. He tumbled into Drew’s lap, licking his face with abandon, then darted over to Y/N to do the same.

“I think he likes us,” Y/N said, laughing as she tried to wrangle him into a hug.

“Or he’s trying to convince us to take him home,” Drew replied, rubbing behind Charlie’s floppy ears. The puppy let out a happy bark, wagging his tail so hard that his whole body wiggled.

Y/N’s eyes met Drew’s, her expression hopeful. “What do you think?”

Drew sighed, already feeling his resolve crumbling. “I think we’re suckers.”

An hour later, they were walking out of the shelter with a leash, a bag of supplies, and Charlie trotting happily between them. Drew carried the paperwork under one arm, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I can’t believe we did this,” he said, though he couldn’t help but smile as Charlie stopped to sniff a bush.

“Me neither,” Y/N said, beaming. “But come on, look at him. He’s perfect.”

Charlie, as if on cue, tripped over his own paws and rolled into a patch of grass. He popped back up a second later, tail wagging as if nothing had happened.

“Perfectly clumsy,” Drew teased.

By the time they got home, Charlie had already claimed a corner of the living room as his own, flopping onto a blanket they’d set out for him. Drew watched as Y/N knelt beside him, scratching behind his ears and cooing softly.

“You’re really good with him,” Drew said, leaning against the doorframe.

Y/N looked up, her smile soft. “And you’re not bad yourself. He already loves you, you know.”

Drew glanced at Charlie, who was now chewing on a squeaky toy they’d bought on the way home. “Yeah, well, he’d better. He’s stuck with us now.”

Y/N stood and wrapped her arms around Drew’s waist, resting her chin on his chest. “Admit it. You’re glad we went.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Okay, fine. You were right. But I’m still blaming you when he chews up my shoes.”

“Deal,” Y/N said, grinning.

As they stood there watching their new furry companion explore his surroundings, Drew realized that sometimes the best things in life happened when you least expected them, like stopping by a shelter “just to look” and leaving with a new family member.

𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 @nicholaschavezslut69

[hexhomos]

Kiss on the check accepted! :3c

And your response reminded me of a detail I always pick up on rewatches but hadn't fully untangled yet—in the flashback of her childhood, Mel steps into that broken throne room with blood still drying on it. At Ambessa's prompting, Mel goes right into talking about how to renovate the place. "Paint the walls gold"...like gilding over the horrors of conquest that got that power in the first place.

And when she describes the regent they should have, she finishes with, "she should be pliant, so we can mold her." That IS what she was doing with Jayce, slowly, over a decade, and then quickly through Acts 2 and 3.

And then in the scene, after Mel finishes describing a "pliant" regent who can be molded, her mother suggests MEL could be that regent. Young Mel is excited at the idea, entirely missing the implication that she too would be an asset of her mother's reign.

That's why she takes off her Medarda ring right before casting her vote for Zaun's independence. She's finally realized she's just as subject to her mother's games as anyone else and Chooses to stop working in the interests of her family's power.

And augh, I wish her s2 plotline hadn't taken her out of Piltover so we could have seen more of the spycraft against Ambessa she was up to in Arc 1. I can't help but think of how much stronger her confrontation with Ambessa would have been if we had a full season of "daughter works against mother" instead of just a few scenes and a lot of getting kidnapped. More ambiguity with Leblanc would've been great too instead of her killing Elora to say hello.

[continued from here]

EXACTLY the way they shafted the politics in s2 (specifically so they wouldn't need to have hard conversations) genuinely had a negative impact in the ENTIRE story. The systematic horrors were downplayed and plotlines were dropped with very short acknowledgements - this is why we get people complaining about the jayce/mel breakup scene "coming out of nowhere" despite the fact that it made perfect sense for these characters!!!!!! It was just too short and they changed the subject too quickly, so we don't have TIME to think about the economic issues again.

It's so clear to me that jayce, viktor, ekko, mel (each representing a diff political facet. curious!) etc were carefully removed from the actual real world so we never have to analyze or push back against the notion that cait/ambessa are doing a hostile military coup and HAVE gotten people killed, imprisoned, and tortured en masse. So they can neatly resolve all of the plot with an avengers-style montage and never talk about the stuff with real world implications. There is no war in piltover and zaun. Just a cartoony last second villain. We just need to unite to protect... piltover...? And now viktor is randomly forgetting his proud zaunite commie stance and teaming up with the imperial invaders that were plaguing the earth moments ago........? We never talk about the class inequality ever again? Forget everything. Nothing ever matters.

The end result was that we spent far less time with these characters and they ended up being pretty underdeveloped. I know this happened for marketing reasons, its so incredibly clear aspects of the story were dumbed down so they could sell more ingame skins or pitch new champions, and that was seen as more valuable and desirable for the company than politicking - because at heart riot don't care about the political stuff anyway. But it still makes me throw my hands up in the air. such an asspull

In a reality where we had enough time and investment to touch on this, Mel could have actually gotten to push back against ambessa/cait and directly deal with the consequences of her actions. SEVIKA could have gotten a proper payoff for her underground character arc, instead of vanishing halfway through and then randomly accepting a diversity hire seat on the council (insanity. that was insanity) Ekko and the firelights would have obviously played a key role in rallying people against ambessa and helping Jinx recover from her displacement crisis (sorry isha, but even you could have been better used as part of the firelights dilemma) Jayce's mounting disillusionment with piltover and his loyalty to Viktor would be much better explored if they were still in conversation about the cities, the world they wanted to help, and the chaotic blurry lines of personhood/citizenship that decide who is an 'acceptable' target under the fist of the state. Vi could have built a self-reliant identity for herself, something better to fight for that isnt 'being a cop'. This show could've been awesome. I wish it existed

[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.

[deepspacenova]

LESS THAN ENEMIES

1100 words || mild hurt/comfort. injured sylus. pre-relationship. minor blood.

Note: trying out something new and joining a fandom instead of obsessing in silence for once. Please accept some Sylus whump as my humblest offering xx

Sylus’ favorite thing is to watch you on the battlefield.

It started with Mephisto, of course. The mechanical corvid kept tabs on so many of Sylus’ subjects of interest that he’d thought nothing of programming the so-called “special” new Hunter’s likeness into its tracking rounds.

When he saw your evol, he became determined to take her. When he saw you bound in front of him, no recognition in your eyes, he became intrigued. But when you put a bullet through his chest point blank, no hesitation, he became captivated. Enraptured. Obsessed.

After the auction — and when Mephisto’s wing maintenance went from biweekly to twice a week — Sylus decided to spare himself the trouble and started going himself.

He doesn’t get too close, can’t get too close, but he’ll never get enough of your ferocity, your determination, your grace when he watches you fight for your people. For your cause.

Even if it’s in direct opposition to his plans.

Actually, his men could stand to learn a thing or two from you. In wit, in strategy, in combat.

The thought almost manages to pull a smile from him.

As much enjoyment as he takes in seeing you dominate the battlefield, to hear you calling out orders to other Hunters, to witness the shimmering waves of your evol, he can’t ignore the tension he feels when he does. The apprehension.

The worry.

Picturing your beautiful body cut down, wounded, bleeding… it isn’t something he likes to think about.

And that’s why Sylus watches the battlefield.

It’s a chaotic dance of guns and swords. Your Hunters and the rogue faction that ceded from Onychinus months ago clashing on the blood-stained streets.

The rest of the neighborhood is dark but calm, filled with the high-pitched buzz of the street lamps on the periphery of N109. If he wasn’t scrutinizing you with such focus, it would’ve felt like he was heading out to join you for one of your midnight meet ups.

You're close to the building that’s casting Sylus into the shadows, your singular focus centered on the four men surrounding you. No other Hunters are nearby.

Sylus watches you weave a web of power around two, freezing them in place, swords locked into a swinging motion. At the same time you turn around and trap a third, his arms getting more frantic the higher you raise your gun, before he drops like a stone to the ground.

You’ll will win this one, Sylus muses, as the men he’d so generously chosen to oust from the organization rather than kill dwindle in numbers. Most of them are being tracked down by other Hunters, those that remain look like they might flee in a desperate attempt at self-preservation like the roaches they are.

Who knew the Hunter’s Association would become his pest control.

Sylus heightens the rush of power in his veins as one of the men takes advantage of your divided focus, shakes himself free of your power’s hold, and stumbles backwards, running toward the alleyway Sylus occupied in hopes of escape.

You recklessly release him without a care, letting him get as far as the curbside. He gasps when he spots Sylus, taking an instinctive shot with what looks like a pilfered Hunter’s gun just as Sylus unleashes his evol, let’s it hum from within him, through his veins to his palms as he snuffs the breath out of the man in front of him, as well as the two next to her.

The bodies topple onto the dirty asphalt in perfect harmony, joining the other vermin she’d taken care of.

An outraged gaze whips toward Sylus. You’d known he was there.

Before he can wonder at what he’d done to give himself away you're already marching toward him. Too irritated to make sure other Hunters aren’t following — they aren’t, Sylus has made sure — when you step in front of him. That magnificent power isn’t quite contained yet, casting a glow around you that makes him want to reach out and…

He crosses his arms in case they make any movements he doesn’t approve of.

“They had information I needed, you overbearing—”

He narrows his eyes, ignoring a twinge in his bicep as he leans it against the building. “They’re your enemies, sweetie. Do you think they would’ve had the same mercy with you?”

“They might’ve,” you bite out. “Now, thanks to you, we’ll never know.”

He hardens his jaw. Your naiveté would get you hurt one day. “Trust me, they weren’t about to help you, they wanted to hurt you. To cut all your little Hunters down and take you with them.” Tendrils of his power wrap around your waist like a vine, yanking you toward him on a gasped breath, and your hands feel like brands on his chest.

“And, kitten?” You purse your lips, looking past his shoulder to ignore him, taking the comfort of that gaze from him. Growling low in his throat, he tilts your chin back up, tracing his thumb over the silky edge of your jaw. “I won’t let anyone do that.”

The frosty glare in your eyes melts, taking the last of your anger with it.

“I won’t either,” you murmurs. Stepping back, you take your face from his grasp. “Alright, let’s get out of here. I don’t need any of the other Hunters catching you.”

Sylus sighs, turning his back to the bodies when lightning pierces through his arm, causing him to cover it up with an annoyed hiss.

“Sylus? Sylus. What’s going on? What’s happened?”

Trying to calm the frantic words that match your frantic hands, he grits out, “I’m fine. Must’ve happened right before I took care of those last three. It’s nothing.”

You're grasping at his fingers to peel them away, revealing a decently sized chunk of flesh removed from his bleeding bicep.

It’s not the most severe wound he’s ever sustained, by far. Still, he’s mildly impressed that a Hunter’s bullet could pack such a punch. He’ll need to look into those.

“It’s not nothing, there’s no way that’s going to heal on its own. You need… stitches or something. I’m taking you to the base.” Wrapping one palm around his arm and the other around his wrist, you steer him by the arm in the opposite direction of Linkon. “And before you say anything, every Hunter goes through field medic training.”

It’s the same tone you use with other Hunters, those you call friends. The sound of determination coated in the steel of care and concern -for him.

You're treating him like he’s… yours.

He ignores the sudden balloon expanding in his chest at the thought. “You know you never need an excuse to put your hands on me, kitten,” he drawls with a smirk, deciding to give himself into it, into her.

And despite the most serious injury he’s had in a while tearing into the space between his missing skin and your palm, all he can feel is a fluttering, healing warmth when your cheeks flush and your pace quickens.

[naffeclipse]

Tusks

Reader x Yeti!Sun & Moon

Commission Info

The lovely @divinit3a requested their Frostbite AU with their cryptid Arctic boys, which was an absolute delight! There's snow, there's local legends, and there's the fellas themselves! I had such a great time writing them, and I'm so glad for the chance to write Sun being so extra monstrous and Moon as soft and sweet. Enjoy!

Content Warnings: Animal death, blood, gore, and fear.

———

The evening light slants golden over the frozen tundra, the sky softening to a popsicle pink hue. Trees and jagged mountain outcroppings alike cast shadows which turn the snow blue and the rocks and bark of willows dark and thick. You cheerfully continue deeper along the expansive land, hiking in snug boots and thick layers of clothing that loudly rub in a high pitch zip with each stride you take. 

This journey is very ill advised—but that has rarely stopped you from chasing after what you wanted. Vanessa, the one who strictly told you not to leave the town set on the frozen edge of the sea at the North Pole, warned her to wait for either her or an official crew before you started chasing after myths and folklore in the region. But one night in and hearing about the local abominable snowman propelled you forward into a solo day trek into the frigid wilds just beyond town. 

Yeti. Local legend. Tall tale. “The ice devil” is too great of a story to pass up. You set out to find a hook, a real, captivating myth to jot down upon your notebooks and preserve on your voice recorder, and you are not going to disappoint yourself. 

Stories are as important as reality, as nature itself. Stories are how people keep themselves alive. You continue the tradition by writing reports for a renowned wildlife and wilderness journal. Nothing would give you more pleasure than to witness first hand the places and conditions which swirl the rumors of a creature so inexplicable lurking along the edges of the town. 

It was once thriving too. Even before the tourism died down, the town hushly boasted of the local cryptid that were said to roam in blizzards after dark. You’ve walked between the frozen houses and down the thin strip meant to behave as the mainstreet—it is struggling. 

Perhaps a new, fresh story could bring attention back to such a place. It could do good to remind the world that there are still stories here, waiting to be heard, wishing to inspire awe and fright and imagination. 

You slide between two giant boulders slick with frost and reach a fantastic overlook at the top of a crag. The town seems so small and far away. The sun is setting low, the perfect golden hour setting upon you like a caress from a loved one saying goodbye. You brush a gloved hand against your nose. It drips slightly, and you can already imagine how bright-red and cold-bitten you must look. 

It’s going to be a trek back down. You frown slightly, studying the distance. Maybe the town really is far away. You have… less than a perfect amount of time to return to your shelter for the night. You simply don’t have the gear to survive a night in the Arctic tundra without additional aid, but that’s no matter. You’re on your way back to your rental room.

Ignore the slight ringing of Vanessa’s voice in your mind, terse and firm, telling you to wait for her, you turn around to find a way to slip down the mountain. You couldn’t help but be allured by the beautiful tundra and the rising mouths of caves and caverns alike. Icicles hang thick as harpoons from the mouths of openings in the mountain and snow piles are so thick in some areas, it would bury you alive to step in them.

You’ve been careful. You’ve traveled slowly and mindfully, and stopped to jot down your notes in a notebook before pulling out the voice recorder to wander aloud about how the environment has crafted a perfect abominable snowman for the locals to chat about. 

Of course, you’re convinced there is no such thing. Stories are born for the need of understanding. One night, a long long time ago, someone saw something in the snow and it seemed larger than reality and taller than life, and then they never saw it again. The understanding of it drifted perfectly into place as a monster. One can wrap their head around a spooky thing when it fits the criteria of horror within their mind, and it becomes a way for people to warn others from wandering too far or staying out at night when the temperature drops to lethal negative digits. 

A new understanding was born. The story of the yeti thrives. 

You drop down towards a sprawling of trees. The mountain still looms tall and dark behind you, its pale face darkening with the change of the light. You almost lose sight of the sun over the sharp slopes and peaks—but you’re sure these are your own foot tracks you’re following back.

And Vanessa was so worried about you. You grin only for yourself to know.

A tempting ice cavern opens up along your side. It’s yawning mouth is towering and the inside is deep and dark. You stop a moment to gaze within, picturing a monster lunging from its depth at a poor, unsuspecting victim. Quickly, you pull out your recorder and make a few vocal notes about the textures and impressions of the cavern. Could more ice be inside, thickly burrowing underground? 

Something to return to later. Vanessa will have to explain more to you, and you’ll ask if she’ll deign to take you on a tour inside one of them. She’s so severe about anything—it can’t simply be the lack of light in half the year or the weather. No, that’s just her disposition.

Around a bend of willow trees, thick with snow clinging to its dangling branches like an umbrella beaded in white, you walk without care. Striding forward, followed the edge of several smaller caverns, still impressive but not comparable in size, your eyes fall to the ground you tread. 

The snow is disturbed. Long and lengthy strides of something small, and there are multiples of them. You slow your rush to peer closer under the deep shadow you’re caught within. Paw prints. Large, impressive animal tracks. 

Wolves.

You slowly straighten, intrigued. Did they pass through here? Perhaps they caught your sense and curiously lingered. You trek through the little patch of willows, studying the strangeness of which the snow is disturbed, markings that are too thick and long to be from wolves, but could perhaps come from them falling into the snow and rolling. Why would wolves roll around here? This couldn’t be a local resting spot for them, could it? 

The division between shadow and brilliant, bright sunlight glittering on snow is a stark threshold. You reach it, stepping from the trees’ shelter only to stop in the golden glare of a sunset. 

Further ahead is a wolf in the path. It lies upon the snow, terribly still. Your pulse pricks up along your throat as you stare. The beautiful, thick coat of the creature is ripped to shreds, stained with blood which languidly spills out around it. 

Your skull empties of rational understanding. As if compelled by morbid curiosity, you step closer, reaching its unmoving side.

Its tongue luls out of its mouth. Eyes, wet and open, stare lifelessly. The hide is decorated with severe gouges, exposing its entrails. Heat ever so delicately rises in misty wisps into the frigid air. The carcass, missing pieces, is not even cold yet.

Something was eating it. 

A crunch of snow echoes further down the path. You startle. An instinct, animalistic and wild within you, scratches at your heart. Go. Hide. 

You obey. Flinging yourself back from the clearing of the dead, eaten wolf, you hunker behind a cluster of frosted rocks. Dropping to your knees, the light barely glancing off the icy edges of the stones, you throw yourself into its shadow. 

The crunch of snow shifts into footsteps, heavy and quick. You press a glove over your mouth, afraid the smoke of your breath could somehow give your position away. 

The footsteps stop. The stillness turns your blood to slush. 

“Oh my,” a curious voice singsongs. It’s high and bouncy with a strange, radio-like static underlying its tone. “Friend? Come on out. I can share.”

The demand is too cheerful. Friend you are not. You hold your breath, terrified as you lean your head against the cold, unforgiving rock. 

“Reveal yourself before I find you,” the voice still is strong, but a strain hits its cords. 

You are doing no such thing. 

“How rude,” the voice pouts. 

The crunch of snow becomes a rapid sharpness of footsteps, and then silence.

The back of your neck prickles. You lift your head back, back, back—

A face of gold and rust stares back down at you, a crown of sharp, splayed icicles framing the creature's head, with a grin stained in blood just behind two golden, metallic tusks. Thick white fur clings to the monster’s frame.

The ice devil.

“There you are,” his voice deepens into a growl most dreadful. A hand, large and clawed, dripping blood, reaches over the rocks.

You throw yourself to your feet. Almost knocking into a willow, snow falling from the branches and catching like dozens of wayward diamonds in the sunlight, you run. 

The creature snarls and quickly strides behind you. Your heart thunders in your ears.

You almost trip over a rock and the creature tuts a sharp sound of rebuke, calling for you to stop. Breathless, fighting the tightening of your throat, you race back towards the ice caverns. A hapless thought of losing it in one of the caves crosses your mind. You step towards the fine division between shadow and sunlight upon the ground, and pump your legs with all your might.

A large hand closes on your shoulder, twisting you back to face him while throwing you to the ground. It knocks the breath from your lungs. In a split second, the creature of wild white fur and golden plates is upon you. He pins you down neatly, as if you were a small toy for his hands to enjoy shaking about. 

“Friend,” he beams, tusks decorated in red, “There’s not enough time!”

You struggle, your boots sliding against snow while you panic without air in your body. Your head spins. The yeti crouches over you, far too close for comfort. One eye is wide and pale, icy blue. The one is damaged, scratched, with a star-like prick of blue deep in its black center.

His claws squeeze your shoulder. His other palm sits on your chest, keeping you in place.

“I won’t get to play with my friend,” he pouts and snarls the next, “How naughty of you to run from me.”

The air trickles slowly back into your gaping mouth. You scramble, clutching at his arms in a vain attempt to push him off you, but you only succeed in smearing blood onto your coat.

The shadows stretch deeper. The monster tilts his head, the impressive icicle jags upon his head spinning like crystals in the air. He releases your shoulder to drag the back of a claw down your cheek, leaving you to whimper with precious little breath.

“We can play,” he decides. “You can run and I’ll hunt you down.”

You frantically mewl, trying to push out from underneath him but he cages you in his long and looming figure. He laughs, bordering on maniacal. 

“Keep struggling, little hare,” he growls, “It’ll make you taste all the better—if you don’t behave.” 

You suck in a sharp breath at the first cool brush of shadows on your face. The yeti snarls a guttural, temperamental sound. His claws sink into the front of your coat, pricking the fabric. 

“No, no, no!” His other hand flies to his face, covering it as the evening gives way to twilight, and the gold upon his particular face fades to a silver and black.

Unhanded, you push yourself out from underneath the monster before bolting straight back into the thicket of the willows. You dash madly. Your footsteps remain in the snow, calm and steady, now smeared with your backtracking as you rediscover the great opening of the ice cavern from earlier, and toss yourself inside with all your might. 

You race into the darkness. The coldness turns your breath into thick smoke before your lips. Your heart pounds while your fingers and toes grow numb. You ignore the paint of red upon your clothing, left on your cheek.

Stories are understanding. A warning. A way to survive.

The ice devil should have been a story.

The rounded walls of the ice cavern grow narrow. Panic hooks into you, sharp and cold, as you push yourself against the wall. The cold bites at your nose. Your head swims as black stains the edges of your vision—or is it that dark?

You slip down to your knees. Clutching yourself, your body shakes violently with shock and icy temperatures. This is too dangerous for you to lie low in—you won’t make it through the night.

Footsteps click into the icy entrance. You lift your head, staring at the large figure taking up the entrance with a thick, wild coat of undisguisable white. Shrinking closer to the frozen ground, you bite your bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

The figure draws near. The low light of the deepening twilight barely reaches inside. Your heart struggles in your ribcage, clawing at your sternum. You can no longer hold your breath. A faintness takes hold. 

A head snaps towards you, two sharp and icy horns upon the crown of its head, paired with two dark tusks. Something long and fluffy sways behind its head—a nightcap. The creature lumbers towards you upon lethargic steps. You yelp as it stands over you, eyes blue and piercing, but his expression is far less bloody. 

A sluggish hand reaches for you. Fear strikes so thick in your mind, you freeze without any adrenaline to protect you. The hand lifts you off your feet and pulls you against its body. You briefly struggle.

“Stop,” a voice comes, low and raspy, and exhausted, “Hold still.”

You obey, if only due to being struck dumb by the difference in the voice from only moments before. 

Long and thickly furred limbs wrap around you. A cloak, white and heavy, drapes over you until you’re snuggled against the creature’s chest, held secure in lithe arms.

Surprisingly gentle, the ice devil ensures every part of you is coated in the warmth of his attire. The fluff is wild and warm. The relief it brings is instant despite your shaking limbs, and you stare, wide eyed, up at the mysterious face of silver.

“Sun…” he mutters, shaking his head. His tusks cut through the air before he looks down at you. “It’s alright now.”

You don’t know if you believe him, but your body sags, and the blackness flanking your vision engulfs you entirely. The last fleeting sensation is a claw touching your cheek, wiping away blood.

[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

[melodyanqel]

Fairness | w.hj & k.hn

summary: another little angel sees her father at work except she must learn a lesson.

pairing: husband!father!ha-joon x wife!mother!reader

genre/tags: fluff, established relationship, married couple, husband!father!ha-neul, jealousy, cuteness overload

wc: 900+ words

a/n: thank you @deardevilradio for this adorable idea and sorry that it took a while to create it lol. but i hope you and everyone enjoy pt 2 of heart stealer! <3

Today’s filming involves many actors and actresses on set, who act like the participants in the game and come together. 

Plus, another child comes to their father’s work. Ha-neul’s little girl, Kang Min-hee, was brought by his wife to visit him and you volunteered to help take care of her. You are not only a set designer but also a nanny. Min-hee is a lovely toddler and is starting school soon. Despite being much older, she likes to play with Hwa-young. 

“Appa!”

Min-hee’s sweet, high-pitched voice echoes through the studio when she sees Ha-neul talking to Si-wan. The people around her laughed because she was too adorable. Ha-neul smiles and waves at his daughter. The actor is dressed up as his character for the show and it’s amazing how Min-hee still recognizes him with long hair. 

You go into the studio and Hwa-young is in your arms. “Darling, appa has to work soon. Let’s go hang out together.” You tell the toddler kindly yet firmly because the atmosphere will change once the cameras are recording. Min-hee understands you and happily skips away from the room. You giggle at her silliness because she cares about playing with her toys, eating food, and giving hugs. 

Inside an empty makeup room is a mess. You aren’t complaining because Min-hee will clean up after herself and you know what to expect when having children around. There are coloring books, block sets, plushies, snacks to munch on, and blankets if anyone wants to nap. You came in prepared because you didn’t want them to get bored. 

Min-hee and Hwa-young enjoy being great friends while you are on the couch, going through your phone. Ha-joon is in a different room, practicing his lines, which is understandable because he is a perfectionist and never likes to mess up. Just you and the kids trying to pass the time. So far, it’s been a chill work day unless you get called by the design team to fix something like the paint of the dormitory or broken pieces of a set. 

After an hour of filming, the director lets everyone have a break. 

You hear the door opening all lively from the main cast members and your husband. You also got elated when you saw Sung-hoon because he came in after you arrived. Min-hee beams and springs up to run to Ha-neul. “Appa! Let’s pway!” Her pronunciations are still not perfect but she knows a lot of words. Ha-neul’s face brightens and he bends down to catch her in his arms. “Yes! Appa can join you!” He exclaims. Once letting go of his daughter, he stands up and she drags him to the spot. 

Hwa-young is doodling on a blank paper while the uncles and aunts gather around the little play zone. Ha-joon sits next to you and watches his baby do her thing. “How is it being a nanny?” He asked. You snickered because you weren’t expecting to have two jobs. You replied to your husband. “Fun. The girls are so cute when they share toys.” You’ve watched Min-hee help Hwa-young build a tower of blocks until it gets taller than them. 

Ha-joon smiles mirthfully. “That’s nice. I wish I could be in your position.” He makes a pout which has you giggling. You gently caress his head. “Well, the people love Jun-ho so it wouldn’t be the same if you get replaced.” You stated the truth because you’ve seen how the fans react to the character. Ha-joon leans his head against your hand and stares at you with endearment. He is loving your touch. “You’re right. I just need another five hours of filming.” Ha-joon groans quietly and digs his nose into your palm. “Aww~” You cooed and understood his exhaustion. 

“Wow, Hwa-young that’s a pretty sun.” Sung-hoon compliments the youngest child’s art—a splatter of yellow and spikes. 

Ha-neul looks over Min-hee’s head, who is sitting on his lap and drawing too. “So beautiful! I wonder if she got her skills from omma.” He compliments the art as well and gives you a smirk. The cast members laugh at your playful eye-rolling. 

Min-hee abruptly shoves her art to Ha-neul’s face. “Look, appa! Pweety?” She asked about her colorful flowers. He gingerly pushes the paper away and looks at it. “It is pretty. Omma would love it.” Ha-neul kindly comments. 

Byung-hun then noticed something. He saw Min-hee staring at Hwa-young with a hint of jealousy when Ha-neul complimented the baby’s sun drawing. Byung-hun tells everyone, “I think someone wanted appa’s attention because he said something nice about her friend.” His statement made them shocked.

Jung-jae raised his brows. “How so hyung?” He questioned.

Byung-hun chuckled before speaking. “I have two kids and my son would get jealous whenever his sister gets more attention. He thinks Min-jung and I favor his sister.” He explained in brief. The youngest of the cast, Yu-ri, smiles at Ha-neul. “Oppa, I believe Min-hee doesn’t like your compliment on Hwa-young.” Her response astounds the man 

Ha-neul turns Min-hee on his lap to face him and gives a small lecture. “Sweetie. Hwa-young is your friend and shouldn’t be upset if I say something nice to her. You both are amazing, but I don’t want you to think appa doesn’t love you. Okay?” He tries to make Min-hee comprehend the purpose of fairness. 

Like a pure yet smart child, she acknowledged by hugging his neck. Ha-neul takes Min-hee into a tighter hug and kisses her head. 

Baby Hwa-young looks up from her drawing to see the precious moment. She shifts her head to see her father has been here this whole time. She squealed which had the adults’ and toddler’s eyes on her. Hwa-young lifts her arms to Ha-joon. 

“Someone also needs her appa’s touch.” You tell the love of your life to grab the little one. Ha-joon laughs merrily and reaches over to Hwa-young. The man gathers his baby into comforting arms. 

Another thing Ha-joon hopes for Hwa-young is to not develop envy.

[happypotato48]

Recent GMMTV BL Shows, Passion vs Commercialization 

Yee fucking Haw bitches I'm very bored and in need of something to write and as person who have complicated relationship with GMMTV and still can’t decide what to do with it, I'm gonna start talking mad shit and ramble for a bit of which recent shows feels like they have passion behind them and which recent show feels more like products to keep the BL engine rolling. this post gonna be unhinged, unkind and unbothered so if those are not you jam then.... Suck to be you!5555

Let start with a show that just finished airing, The Heart Killers. well well, Khun Phi Jojo kha i see what you were trying to do (mostly) despite this show lacks of good writing, or coherent plots and abysmally bad editing. i can tell that there are passions behind the screen of this mess of a show. most of the actors ate their roles and the casting are pitch perfecto. this show is in the middle on the Passion vs Commercialization line. there was effort and soul behind the wheels, but sadly the car was in a horrible shape and drive by a person who really seems to be running out of idea and is only here to churn out rushed products to be consume by ravenous hungry BL fans.

Next is Perfect 10 Liners a show by New Siwaj my soon to be senior and my trash fav?? director. as a We Are defender i have this weird and very fuck up relationship with this man cause omg this show is hot garbage 80% of the time. the first 8 EPs ForceBook arc was dumb, cliche and irritating to watch. then there PerthSanta next arc that was also kinda the same for the first half then somehow got kinda good at the end. and now with the current juniorMark with started off with a really interesting plot of the queer guy who is dealing with internalized homophobia finding a space in this BL bubble. this show feels like a souless cash grab BL made to fills the air time but somehow by the the virture of being so goddanm long some good ideas are leaking out of this stinky hole.

And now to the hardest one to talk about for me, Ossan's Love Thailand. I really want to love this show y'all, it's EarthMix in Oassan's Love ffs but so far, all i can think about this show is how much mid it is. the jokes are uneven some landed really well some were just straight up not funny. the biggest sin of this show is how much wasted potentially it is, it fails to capture the spirit of the original but it still inoffensive enough for me to not hate it. the passion and the love for the original are there but because of GMMTV unwillingness to commit, this show fallshort of being a great passion project and is kinda a modicare product of a show.

Ok i'm saving best for last, it's ThamePo Heart That Skips a Beat time! omg this show is so swoony and i can feel the passion for romance from behind the screen 50 kilos aways. this show has a better cinematography than most usually GMMTV shows and because of that the quietness and the atmosphere made room for the characters and the story to breath. the writings are great and the performances are good all around. i still have some doubt of whether or not the show would land in it themes of idol culture but even if it doesn't i still think this show passion for romance should be greatly appreciated. also, Jun is the best bitch boy third wheel and no matter what other people said i liked that we had a semi love triangle (i'm a trash rebel baby.)

[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.  

[szariahwroteit]

FUNGIRL A Trent Alexander-Arnold + Original Character Erotic Series.

Chapter 6

18+ Minors DNI

While Trent and Jude were close friends, brothers even. On the football pitch, they were fierce rivals and competitive leaders in their own right. 

When Real Madrid came to Merseyside, Trent and his Liverpool teammates refused to allow Jude and his teammates a chance to win on their home turf. 

The game was intense from the very first whistle, however after Liverpool left the stadium with a win, players of both teams had arranged a night out in Liverpool spearheaded by Jude and Trent. 

It went without saying that Trent had Amber accompany him on their night out, her perfect little body draped in a cleavage-baring backless dress that Trent was ready to rip off of her the moment he saw her in it. 

Living in the capital often diminished any need to venture outside of it for nightlife, but Amber couldn’t deny how vibrant and full of life the nightclub they currently stood in was. 

It almost reminded her of some of her favourite spots back home in Los Angeles, but her comparisons were pushed to the back of her mind as Trent approached her holding a glass of champagne. 

“Here you go, beautiful,” Trent said, his voice smooth as he handed her the glass. His eyes sparkled with mischief and admiration as he took in her stunning appearance. The way the dress hugged her curves left him momentarily speechless, and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride knowing she was with him.

Amber accepted the glass, her fingers brushing against his as she did. “Thanks,” she replied, a playful smile dancing on her lips. “You clean up pretty well yourself, you know.”

Trent chuckled, adjusting the collar of his tailored shirt. “I try my best, especially when I have someone like you by my side.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. “You look absolutely perfect tonight.”

Amber felt her cheeks flush at his compliment, a flutter of excitement coursing through her. “You’re not too bad yourself, Mr. Alexander-Arnold,” she teased, taking a sip of the champagne. The bubbles tickled her nose, and she savoured the crisp taste.

As they stood together, the energy of the club pulsed around them. The music thumped in time with their heartbeats, and the vibrant lights danced across the room, casting a kaleidoscope of colours on their faces. Amber felt alive, the atmosphere intoxicating, and she couldn’t help but lean into Trent’s side, feeling the warmth radiating from him.

He’d introduced her to his friends from home who were in attendance, his teammates who shown up for the night out, and Jude and his Real Madrid teammates, who were equally eager to let their hair down after such a physical match. 

The club was absolutely bustling and the presence of so many celebrities only seemed to add to the energy of the room. 

Trent was pulled away from Amber’s side by a teammate of his, taking a sip from her glass, she went and took a seat on the arm of a plush sofa a few of Trent’s friends were lounging on. 

Offering them a polite smile, Amber took another sip of her drink as she watched the club move around her. 

Turning as she felt the presence of someone who took the seat beside her, she found it to be another of Trent’s friends, whose eyes ran up and down her body a few times before meeting hers. 

“Amber, right?” he smiled. 

“That's me,” she acknowledged politely. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked leaning into her ear so she could hear him over the music. 

“Yeah, it’s been great so far!” Amber replied, her voice bright as she tried to keep the conversation light. She glanced around the club, taking in the vibrant atmosphere and the laughter of the people around her. “The energy here is amazing.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, his smile widening. “Micah,” he introduced himself, leaning closer. “You’re the most stunning girl in the room. I’d be lying if I didn’t say Trent is pretty lucky to have you here.”

Amber felt a small rush of warmth at the compliment and smiled back at him, but something in Micah’s gaze shifted—harder, more probing. “But you know, it’s just wild to think he’ll never actually take you seriously.”

Her smile faltered, and she swallowed hard, questioning the energy she’d felt only moments earlier. “Excuse me?” she asked, trying to hold onto a semblance of confidence.

“Look, we all think you’re beautiful , but that’s never been enough to keep Trent. He just doesn’t care to take things seriously, you know? But then again he doesn’t have to he’s a handsome millionaire. It’s not fair,” Micah laughed, his voice barely above the thumping music.

Amber felt her heart drop. “That’s not true,” she replied, but doubt crept into her mind. A lot of Micah’s thoughts had previously been her own and it stung to hear them come so freely out of someone else’s mouth. 

Micah leaned in closer, his voice low and conspiratorial. “The fact he shares is a good consolation, though.” 

“What does that mean?” Amber asked, a chill of unease moving slowly down her spine. 

“I mean, I’m more than happy to share with Trent. It wouldn’t be the first time.” Micah said as he bit his bottom lip, dragging his eyes lustfully down Amber’s figure instantly making her stomach flip. 

Standing to her feet, Amber put down her glass and quickly made off in the direction of the bathroom as her eyes filled with tears and her hands grew clammy. 

Tearfully ordering an Uber to her location, Amber sat in the bathroom stall of the club feeling absolutely pathetic. 

This repeated cycle was one she couldn't continue, Amber was officially stepping off of the emotional roller coaster that was Trent Alexander-Arnold. 

When her phone vibrated in her hand, Amber quickly wiped her tears and glanced at the screen. Standing on her feet when she saw her car was outside of the club. 

Being careful not to bump into Trent or any of his friends as she made her way towards the exit, Amber wrapped her hands around herself in a poor attempt to shield herself from the cold as she stepped out into the night air. The club's pulsating music faded behind her, replaced by the distant sounds of laughter and chatter from the street. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly defeated.

As she approached the waiting Uber, she took a moment to collect herself. The driver, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, nodded at her through the rearview mirror. “You okay?” he asked gently.

Amber forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “Yeah, just a long night,” she replied, sliding into the back seat. She closed the door, shutting out the world for a moment, and leaned her head against the cool glass window.

The driver started the car and pulled away from the curb. Amber watched the city lights blur past, each one a reminder of the fun she had hoped to have tonight. Instead, she felt like she was leaving behind a piece of herself—again.

Her mind drifted back to Trent. They had shared so many good times, but the highs always seemed to be followed by crushing lows. He was charming, funny, and undeniably attractive, but he was also emotionally unavailable. She had tried to convince herself that he would eventually come around, that he would see how much she cared. But tonight had been the final straw.

When the cab driver pulled up outside of a rather upscale and plush hotel he’d recommended to Amber to hole up in for the night while she licked her wounds, her turned to her giving her an empathetic smile. 

“Whoever he is isn’t worth it,” he said soothingly, his accent thick as he offered Amber words of comfort, a blind man could see she was a stunning young woman and if he had to guess a man was the reason behind her tears. 

Ironically when he leaned forward and his coat gaped open, it revealed a Liverpool jersey tucked beneath it, making Amber smile tearfully before she got out of his car and made her way inside. 

She was thankful the check-in process didn’t take long and she was currently in possession of two pieces of identification. 

As she walked toward the elevator, Amber felt a mix of relief and sadness wash over her. The hotel felt like a sanctuary, a place where she could escape the chaos of her emotions and the memories of Trent. She pressed the button for her floor and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment. 

When the elevator doors opened, she stepped out and made her way to her room. The plush carpet felt soft beneath her feet, a stark contrast to the hard reality she had just left behind. She inserted the key card into the lock, and the door clicked open. 

Inside, the room was beautifully decorated, with soft lighting and a large bed that looked inviting. Amber dropped her purse on the floor and walked over to the window, pulling back the curtains to reveal a stunning view of the city skyline. The lights twinkled like stars, and for a brief moment, she felt a flicker of hope.

But as she sank onto the edge of the bed, the weight of her emotions crashed down on her again. She pulled her phone from her pocket, staring at the screen as if it held the answers to her heartache. Should she text Trent? Should she tell him how she felt? Tell him where she was.

Back at the club, Trent’s eyes scanned their section for any sign of Amber, but all he found was the laughter of his friends and the remnants of the night’s revelry. He had seen her earlier, her laughter ringing out like music, but now that sound was replaced by an unsettling silence. A knot formed in his stomach as he realized she was gone.

“Where’s Amber?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual, but the concern seeped through. His friends shrugged, too caught up in their own conversations to pay much attention. 

“She probably just went to the bathroom or something,” one of them replied, waving a hand dismissively. But Trent couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

He excused himself from the group, his heart racing as he made his way towards the rope that separated VIP from the rest of the club. 

Pulling out his phone he called Amber, his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for her to pick up. The ringing echoed in his ears, each tone amplifying his anxiety. After a few rings, it went to voicemail. “Hey, it’s me. Just wanted to check in. Call me back when you can,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, but the worry crept in.

He hung up and stood there for a moment, feeling the weight of the night pressing down on him. He should have been more attentive and should have noticed the signs that she was upset. The way she had looked at him earlier, the way her smile had faltered—it all made sense now. 

“Trent, you good?” one of his friends called out, pulling him back to reality. 

“Yeah, just… did Amber say anything to anyone?” he asked, his voice laced with urgency. 

His friends exchanged glances, confusion etched on all but one of their faces. “I might have told her not to get her hopes up about you,” one of them admitted, a hint of guilt creeping into his tone. “I thought it was just a joke, man. I didn’t think she’d take it seriously.”

In all honesty, he’d said a lot more than “don’t get your hopes up”, but judging by the look of frustration on Trent’s face, he knew better than to add insult to injury. 

Trent felt a surge of frustration. “How is that a joke!?” he snapped, his voice rising. “You think it’s funny to mess with someone’s feelings like that? She’s not a fucking toy to play with!”

His friends shifted uncomfortably, the atmosphere growing tense. “I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm, Trent,” one of them said, trying to calm him down. “We just thought—”

“Thought what? That it was okay to belittle her?” Trent interrupted, his anger boiling over.

Just then Trent’s phone vibrated with a text from Amber letting him know she had checked into an undisclosed hotel and would be at his house tomorrow morning to collect her belongings that were still at his place. 

Trent's heart sank as he read the message, a mix of relief and dread washing over him. She was safe, but the thought of her spending the night alone in a hotel, feeling hurt and abandoned, twisted his stomach into knots. He quickly typed a response, his fingers trembling as he tried to find the right words.

Trent: Amber, please don’t stay there alone. I’m sorry for everything. Can we talk? I want to make this right."

He hit send and stared at the screen, willing her to reply. The seconds felt like hours as he waited, his mind racing with thoughts of how he could have handled things differently. He should have been more attentive to her. Instead, he had let his friends’ careless words dictate his actions, and now Amber was hurting because of it.

“Did she respond?” one of his friends asked, breaking the silence that had settled around them.

“No,” Trent replied, his voice tight. “But she’s at a hotel. I need to go to her.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” another friend chimed in, concern etched on his face. “What if she needs space?”

Trent shook his head, frustration bubbling up again. “She doesn’t need space. She needs to know that I care. I can’t just leave her there.”

It was times like these when Trent wished for the freedom to move in the way a normal man would, as one of the brightest stars in English football meant he was often under scrutiny, and his every move was analyzed. But right now, he didn’t care about the cameras or the headlines. All he cared about was Amber.

“I need to find out where she is,” he said, determination flooding his voice. He turned on his heel and headed for the exit, ignoring the calls of his friends behind him. The club felt suffocating, the laughter and music a stark contrast to the turmoil in his heart.

As he stepped outside into the cool night air, he pulled out his phone, trying Amber’s number again. Simply knowing she was safe wasn't enough for him, he needed to find out where she was and go to her. 

He dialled her number, his heart racing as he listened to the ringing. Each tone felt like a countdown, amplifying his anxiety. After a few rings, it went to voicemail again. “Amber, please pick up. I’m on my way to you. Just… please answer,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Trent hung up, frustration and worry swirling inside him. He couldn’t just sit around waiting for her to respond. He needed to act. He quickly pulled up the addresses of hotels local to the area on his phone, just as his driver pulled up to the curb. 

Climbing into the back of the car he ignored the whispers and no-so-subtle camera flashes of those wanting even just the small piece of the premier league star. 

“Where to?” the driver asked, glancing back at him through the rearview mirror.

“Just drive around the area,” Trent replied, his voice clipped. “I’ll let you know if I see the hotel.”

As they pulled away from the club, Trent’s mind raced. He thought about Amber, the way her laughter had lit up the room, and how quickly that light had dimmed. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had let her down, that he had taken her for granted. The thought of her alone in a hotel room, feeling hurt and abandoned, gnawed at him.

“Do you know any hotels around here?” he asked the driver, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Yeah, there are a few nice ones not too far from here,” the driver replied. “You looking for someone?”

Trent hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to share. “Just a friend,” he finally said, his heart heavy. “She’s having a rough night.”

The driver nodded, his expression sympathetic. “I hope you find her. Sometimes people just need a little reassurance.”

Trent appreciated the kindness, but it did little to ease the storm brewing inside him. He needed to find Amber, to make things right. As they drove through the city, he scanned the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of the hotel where she might be staying.

After a few minutes, he spotted a familiar sign. “There! That’s it!” he exclaimed, pointing to the upscale hotel. The driver pulled over, and Trent jumped out before the car had even come to a complete stop.

“Thanks!” he called over his shoulder, already sprinting towards the entrance. The lobby was bustling with guests, but all he could focus on was finding Amber. He approached the front desk, his heart pounding.

“Excuse me,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. “I’m looking for a guest named Amber. Can you tell me what room she’s in?”

The receptionist looked up, her expression neutral. “I’m sorry, but I can’t disclose that information.”

Trent felt a surge of frustration. “Please, it’s important. She’s upset, and I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

The receptionist hesitated, her eyes flickering with sympathy. “I understand, but I can’t—”

“Just tell me if she’s checked in,” he interrupted, desperation creeping into his voice. “I promise I won’t cause any trouble.”

After a moment of contemplation, the receptionist sighed. “Okay, but I can’t give you her room number. I can confirm that she is here on the fifth floor.”

Relief washed over him. “Thank you. That’s all I needed to know.”

He turned away from the desk, scanning the lobby for any sign of Amber. He felt a mix of hope and anxiety as he made his way toward the elevators. He pressed the button for her floor, his heart racing as he waited for the doors to open.

When they finally slid apart, he stepped inside and pressed the button for the highest floor. The elevator hummed softly as it ascended, and Trent took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He thought about what he would say to her, how he could express the regret he felt for not being there when she needed him.

As the doors opened, he stepped out into the hallway, glancing at the room numbers. He walked slowly, his heart pounding louder with each step. Finally, he reached the door that matched the number he had seen on the receptionist’s screen.

He raised his hand to knock but hesitated, suddenly unsure of what to say. What if she didn’t want to see him? What if he had pushed her too far? But he couldn’t let fear hold him back. He had to try.

With a deep breath, he knocked softly on the door. “Amber?” he called, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s me, Trent.”

Silence hung in the air, and for a moment, he feared she wouldn’t answer. But then he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. The door creaked open, and there she stood, her eyes wide with surprise and something else—hurt.

Trent found that her dress had been replaced by a poorly tied hotel robe, that showed off her cleavage and her taut abs, her hair that was previously styled into an updo fell in damp waves over her shoulders, her face free of any makeup and her eyes red and puffy from crying.  

“Baby,” he sighed, his heart cracking as her sad eyes gazed up into his helplessly. 

“Please don't call me that,” Amber sniffled, using the sleeve of her robe to wipe away a fresh set of tears.

“What happened?” he asked cautiously, realizing that whatever had been said to her by one of his boys had definitely been downplayed when relayed to him. 

“Ask your friends, as far as they're concerned if I’m getting your dick wet I should be doing the same for them, or at least that's the impression you gave them.” Amber's voice trembled, each word laced with hurt and betrayal. She took a step back, wrapping the robe tighter around herself as if it could shield her from the pain.

Trent's stomach twisted at her words. He had always known his friends could be reckless, but he never imagined they would cross such a line. “Amber, I swear I didn’t—”

“Didn’t what? Didn’t tell them it was okay to treat me like I’m just some down to do anything slut?” she interrupted, her voice rising. “Regardless of whether or not you're ready to be committed to anyone. I thought you respected me.”

“I do respect you!” he exclaimed, stepping forward, desperate to bridge the distance between them. “You have to believe me. I would never condone that kind of behaviour. They’re just—”

“Just what? Just being guys? Just being your friends?” Amber shook her head, her damp hair falling into her face. “I can’t believe you’d let them think that way about me.”

Trent ran a hand through his hair, frustration and guilt swirling inside him. “I didn’t know they were saying those things. I’ll talk to them, I promise. I’ll make it right.”

Amber looked up at him, her eyes searching his for sincerity. “You think that’s enough? You think a conversation will fix this?”

“I want to fix this,” he said, his voice softening. “I want to make it right between us. Just tell me what I can do.”

She took a deep breath, her shoulders trembling. “Nothing, we should both just leave this as it is.”

“Amber, no,” he pleaded, stepping closer, his heart racing. “I can’t just let you walk away like this. I care about you too much.”

“Caring isn’t enough when your friends treat me like I’m nothing,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought we had something real, but now I feel like I’m just a joke to them….to you.”

Trent’s chest tightened at her words. “You’re not a joke to me. You’re everything. I never wanted you to feel this way. I thought you knew that.”

Amber shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “How can I trust that when your friends think it’s okay to talk about me like that? It makes me question everything.”

“Please, just give me a chance to fix this,” he said, his voice earnest. “I’ll talk to them, I’ll make sure they understand how wrong they are. I’ll do whatever it takes to show you that I’m serious.”

She looked at him, her expression torn between anger and longing. “You're not serious, maybe the sex is good, or I'm easy to get along with, but you are not serious about me.”

Trent felt the weight of her words like a punch to the gut. “That’s not true,” he said, his voice shaking with emotion. “I’m serious about you. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. You mean more to me than just a fling.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m just another notch on your belt?” Amber’s voice cracked, and she turned away, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her robe. “You say you care, but your friends don’t see me that way. I’m just here for your amusement.”

“Amber, please,” he said, desperation creeping into his tone. “I can’t control what they think, but I can control how I treat you. I want you Amber. I’m with you, physically and emotionally too.”

She turned back to him, her eyes searching his for any hint of truth. “Then why didn’t you stand up for me? You left me with them to get ripped apart while you found time to talk to every other girl in that club with Jude.”

“I didn’t know they were saying those things until now,” he replied, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “I thought they respected you, respected us. I’ll talk to them, I promise. I’ll make it clear that I won’t tolerate that kind of talk about you.”

Amber’s expression softened slightly, but the hurt was still evident. “There is no need, I'm going home to London in the morning.”

As Trent gazed at Amber, her words hung in the air like a heavy fog, enveloping them both in a suffocating silence. Her declaration of leaving struck him like a lightning bolt, and he felt a surge of panic rise within his chest. The thought of her walking away, of never seeing her again, was more than he could bear.

"No, Amber, please," Trent pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation as he reached out to grab her hand, his fingers trembling. "Don't go. Stay with me."

Amber pulled her hand away, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she gazed at him with a mix of sadness and longing. "I can't stay, Trent. I can't keep doing this, pretending that everything is okay when it's not."

"But it is okay," he insisted, taking a step closer to her, his heart racing. "We're okay. I care about you, Amber. More than you know."

“Trent, I can't keep—,” Before another word had the chance to leave her lips, Trent's crashed against them. His hands cupped her wet cheeks as he leaned in, capturing her lips with his in a desperate kiss. It was a kiss filled with urgency, a plea for understanding, for connection, for everything they had shared. He poured all his emotions into that moment, hoping to convey the depth of his feelings and the sincerity of his intentions.

Amber stiffened for a moment, surprise flickering in her eyes, but then she melted into him, her body responding to the warmth of his touch. The kiss deepened, and for a brief moment, the world outside faded away. It was just the two of them, lost in a whirlwind of emotions, the pain and hurt momentarily forgotten.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, Amber looked up at him, her expression a mixture of confusion and longing. “Trent…”

“Just listen to me,” he interrupted, his voice low and earnest. “I know I messed up. I should have been with you. But I need you to understand that I want to make this right. I have to.”

Her gaze softened, but the hurt was still there, lingering like a shadow. “What if there is no point?” she asked. 

“Then we’ll find a point together,” Trent replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. “I don’t want to lose you, Amber. I know I’ve made mistakes, but I want you.”

Amber’s eyes searched his, looking for any sign of insincerity, but all she found was determination. “This is way more complicated than either of us ever intended.”

“I know it is,” Trent admitted, his heart racing as he took a deep breath. “But I’m willing to face that complexity if it means having you in my life. I don’t want to walk away from what we have without trying to fix it first.”

Amber looked down, her fingers nervously twisting the fabric of her robe. “It’s just so hard to see a way forward when I feel so worthless and disrespected. I thought you were different, Trent. I thought you cared about me.”

“I do care about you,” he insisted, his voice rising slightly with urgency. 

“How can I trust that?” she asked, her voice trembling. “If you did, your friends wouldn't have been saying the things they were.”

Trent felt a pang of guilt wash over him, the weight of her words pressing down on his chest. “You’re right,” he said, his voice steady but filled with remorse. “I should have been more aware of how they were treating you. I should have been there to defend you. I can’t change what they said, but I can change how I respond to it.”

Amber’s eyes glistened with tears, and she shook her head slowly. “But what if this is just who you are? What if you’re just like them, and I’m the one who’s been blind to it?”

“No,” he said firmly, stepping closer, his heart racing. “I’m not like them. I’ve never treated you like that, and I never will.“

Trent leaned in, eyes locked on hers as he continued to plead his case with a desperate intensity. 

"Amber, please understand. I'm not perfect, but this... what we have... it's different. I want you." He said taking her hand into his own and squeezing gently as he looked deep into her eyes. 

"I'll talk to them, make sure they never disrespect you again. And if they cross the line even once more... well, let's just say I won't hesitate to put them in their place." A soft, reassuring smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned forward slightly. 

"But enough about them. Let's focus on us. On what we have here." Trent continued, raising her hand and bringing it up to press against his chest, over his heart "This is real, Amber. This connection between us is real.”

Trent’s eyes scanned over Amber’s teasing little body draped in the hotel's robe before his eyes met hers again and cupped her face, using his thumbs to wipe away the remaining tears. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He murmured as he gazed into her eyes. 

Amber felt her heart flutter at his words, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the fog of hurt and confusion that had clouded her mind. She searched his eyes, looking for any hint of insincerity, but all she found was a deep, unwavering affection that made her chest tighten.

“Trent…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, but he shook his head gently, silencing her.

“Let me finish,” he said, his tone earnest. “I know I’ve messed up, and I know I can’t take back what happened tonight. But I want to show you that I care, I want to show you how much I want you.”

Amber’s heart raced as she listened to him, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around her like a warm embrace. She felt the walls she had built around herself begin to crack, the weight of her hurt slowly lifting as she looked into his eyes. 

“Trent, I just…” she started, but the words caught in her throat. She wanted to express her pain, and her frustration, but all she could see was the man standing before her, vulnerable and earnest, willing to fight for her.

“I know it’s hard to believe right now,” he continued, his voice steady. “But I want to try. For you. For us. I want to show you that I’m not just some guy who lets his friends dictate how he feels. I want to be the guy who stands up for you, who respects you, who cherishes you.”

Amber felt a flicker of hope ignite within her, but doubt still lingered. “What if this is just a moment?”

Trent stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “What if it isn't?” he countered. 

“What if this moment is the beginning of something beautiful?” he asked, his voice low and filled with conviction. “I believe in us, Amber. I need you to believe in us, too.”

As he spoke, Amber could feel the gravity of his words wrapping around her, pulling her closer to him. The vulnerability on his face mirrored her own fears, and for the first time, it felt like they were on the same page. She wanted to step forward, to let him in, but the emotional scars from the night were still fresh, and a part of her hesitated.

Trent noticed her conflict, and his expression shifted from determination to tenderness. “I won’t rush you, I promise. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere. Just… don’t shut me out. Let me be here for you.”

Amber swallowed hard, her heart torn between the remnants of pain and the spark of affection that Trent often ignited within her. “It’s not that easy,” she whispered, her voice trembling with uncertainty. “I’m scared of getting hurt again.”

“I know, and I completely understand,” he replied, his eyes softening. “But what we have is worth fighting for. I’m willing to stand in front of all the fears and doubts with you. Can’t we at least try?”

The intensity in his gaze made her pulse quicken, and she felt herself wavering. She found solace in knowing that he wasn’t just here for a fleeting moment, but was genuinely invested in what they shared. Her heart ached with longing, the need for his reassurance mingling with the tinge of fear.

“If I let you in,” she said cautiously, “if I let you into my life, you have to promise me you’ll respect me.”

Trent stepped closer, closing the distance between them. “I promise,” he said solemnly, his gaze never wavering. “You deserve nothing less.”

Amber held her breath, the weight of his promise hanging in the air between them.

Hooking a finger beneath her chin, Trent tilted her face up to meet his gaze fully. “I want you to feel safe with me, Amber. I never want to make you feel like you’re less than what you truly are. You’re extraordinary.”

The warmth in his eyes melted some of the fear embedded in her heart. Amber's breath hitched as she felt her walls begin to crumble, piece by piece. “Trent… I want to believe you,” she confessed, her voice shaking. “But it’s hard to forget how tonight made me feel.”

“I won’t ask you to forget,” he said, sincerity pouring from every word. “But I want to build something new. Something real and full of respect, passion, and understanding.”

With every word, he drew her closer, both physically and emotionally. It was as if he knew which buttons to press to unlock the door to her heart, and she felt the barriers she had erected beginning to falter.

As he spoke, the tension in the air shifted, becoming electric. Amber could feel the weight of the connection between them intensifying, almost palpable. “Tell me, what do you truly want?” he asked, his eyes locked onto hers.

“I want to feel valued, truly valued for who I am—not just for how I make you feel,” she replied, her heart racing.

“Then I’ll show you,” Trent promised, his voice a husky whisper. Taking a deep breath, he moved in closer, his warmth brushing against her. “I want to show you how much you mean to me—not just with words, but with my actions.”

Amber’s pulse quickened as their closeness heightened the atmosphere. “How?” she breathed, her apprehension mixing with burgeoning trust.

“Let me take you on a date. Just you and me," he said boldly, his desire burning bright in his gaze. "No distractions, just us. I want to show you that you’re worth every effort.”

At that moment, Amber felt a sense of hope blossoming within her. “A date?” she asked sceptically, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

“Yes, a date. We can go wherever you want, and do whatever you want. Just let me be with you,” he said, sincerity radiating from him.

She searched his eyes, looking for any sign of insincerity, but all she found was determination and warmth. “Okay,” she whispered. “I think I’d like that.”

His face lit up with a smile that felt like the sun breaking through clouds. “Really?” he asked, almost breathless with relief. 

“Yeah,” she nodded, feeling emboldened. “But you have to promise me something first.”

“Anything,” he said, eagerness colouring his tone.

“Promise me you won’t let anyone—friends or otherwise—disrespect me again,” Amber said, her voice firm. “I need to know I can trust you.”

“I promise,” he said earnestly, his hand moving to cup her cheek once more, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped down her face. “This is our thing now, Amber. I won’t let anyone come between us.”

With those words hanging between them, the atmosphere throbbed with unchecked desire and fragile hope. Trent leaned in closer, their breaths mingling, and Amber could almost taste the promise of a fresh start on her lips—the kind she’d yearned for after a night that had threatened to unravel her.

“Everything will be different,” he whispered, almost breathless. “I’ll show you how much I care.”

With a tentative heart, Amber leaned into him, closing the gap between their bodies. Their lips met once again, soft and urging—this time brimming with the promise of newfound understanding. The warmth of him enveloped her, and she felt the last vestiges of her heartache begin to fade, replaced by something captivating and real.

As the kiss deepened, emotions flooded back—connection, passion, and the hope that they could rewrite their story together. They would take the time to heal together, to love openly, without fear of the past shadowing their present. 

The world outside faded away as Amber let herself sink into the moment, wrapped in the certainty that maybe—just maybe—they could find a way through the chaos of their lives. For the first time that night, she felt not just alive, but truly seen.

Arguing about respect and boundaries previously, almost seemed comical as Amber allowed Trent to disrespect and defile her body in the most pleasurable way. 

Trent’s long, thick cock kissed against her cervix in the most masochistic way. His hand wrapped around her throat holding her body against his as he sat up on his knees, fucking her slow and deep. 

Amber let out a strained cry of pleasure as Trent landed a stinging slap on the swell of her ass, his hand around her throat tightening as he turned her head so he could look into her eyes. 

As Trent's cock throbbed against her cervix, Amber let out a muffled moan into his palm. The roughness of his grip on her throat sent shivers down her spine, mixing with the intense pleasure coursing through her body.

Amber's moans turned into gasps and whimpers as Trent's cock rubbed against her cervix, the sensation sending waves of intense pleasure through her body. She could feel every ridge and vein along his length, teasing her inner walls with each slow, deep thrust.

Trent's hand around her throat tightened further as he leaned in close, his hot breath fanning over her face. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, slapping her ass again for emphasis. "My cock buried deep inside you, right where it belongs."

Amber couldn't respond verbally, but she arched her back and ground herself against him in response. The pain from the slap mixed with the pleasure of being taken so roughly, pushing her closer to the edge.

With Amber's muffled moans and gasps as his soundtrack, Trent continued to take her with ruthless abandon. He squeezed her throat tighter, feeling a thrill run through him as she squirmed beneath him.

"Fuck, you're so perfect like this," he groaned, sinking deeper into her warmth. "Take my cock, Amber. Show me how much you need it."

Trent's thrusts grew more erratic as he neared his climax. His hand on her throat loosened just enough for her to catch a ragged breath before he captured her lips in a bruising kiss. As he came inside her, he bit down on her lower lip hard.

"That's it," he growled against her mouth. "Scream for me."

Amber's body went stiff as she cried out Trent’s name before a gush of arousal squirted from her core making Trent moan into her mouth as he cupped her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers.

As Trent pulled out of Amber, his cock still hard and twitching with the aftershocks of their intense coupling, he looked down at her with a mix of satisfaction and possessiveness. He could see the evidence of their sex glistening on her thighs and inner legs.

“Come here,” he murmured as he pulled her into his arms, kissing along her jaw and neck as he got comfortable on the plush hotel bed. 

Amber melted into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against hers as he peppered soft kisses along her neck. The intimacy of the moment wrapped around her like a comforting blanket, easing the remnants of her earlier distress. She could feel the tension in her body begin to dissipate, replaced by a sense of safety and belonging.

“Trent,” she whispered, her voice still tinged with vulnerability. “I didn’t expect any of this.”

He pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, his expression serious yet tender. “Neither did I, but I’m glad it happened. I want to be here for you, in every way.”

Amber felt her heart race at his words. The connection they shared was undeniable, and despite the chaos of the night, she felt a flicker of hope ignite within her. “I want that too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Trent smiled, his eyes sparkling with affection. “Then let’s take our time. We don’t have to rush anything. Just enjoy being together.”

Placing his hand at the back of Amber’s neck, Trent pulled her into his lips, humming as her tongue slipped into his mouth. 

With a low, possessive growl, Trent deepened the kiss, his tongue dominating Amber's as he pulled her flush against him. His large hand roaming over her body, mapping every curve and dip with an almost reverent intensity.

“Are you trying to get another round out of me?” Trent smirked against her mouth, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Amber let out a breathless moan as Trent's tongue tangled with hers, his strong hands gripping her body possessively. The sensation of his arousal pressing insistently against her hip sent a shiver of anticipation through her. 

"Yes," she breathed, her eyes dark with desire as she gazed up at him through lowered lashes. "I need you, Trent. All of you."

Trent growled low in his throat, a sound of pure male satisfaction. "You drive me crazy, you know that? I can't get enough of you."

He rolled onto his back, pulling Amber on top of him. She gasped as she felt his hard length slide against her slick folds, the tip nudging teasingly at her entrance.

"You're so wet for me already," Trent groaned, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts. He circled her hardened nipples with his thumbs, sending sparks of pleasure racing through her.

Amber arched into his touch, her back bowing as she ground herself against him. "I can never get enough of you either," she panted, her voice husky with need.

Trent's fingers tightened around her breasts, kneading the soft flesh as he rolled his hips upward. The head of his cock caught on her entrance, teasing them both with the promise of what was to come.

"Fuck, Amber," he breathed, his eyes blazing with lust. "You feel incredible."

With a low growl, Trent surged upwards, burying himself deep inside her in one powerful thrust. Amber cried out at the sudden penetration, her nails digging into Trent's chest as she adjusted to his size.

"That's it," Trent encouraged, holding still for a moment to let her acclimate. "Take all of me."

Amber's body trembled as Trent filled her completely, his thick cock stretching her inner walls to the limit. She felt so full, so owned by him in this moment.

"You're mine," Trent grated out, his voice rough with possession. "Only mine."

"Yes...I'm yours," Amber whispered, her eyes glazing over with pleasure.

With a low groan, Trent began to move, withdrawing until just the tip remained inside before slamming back in deep and hard. The force of his thrusts jolted through Amber's entire being, sending shockwaves of ecstasy rippling out from where they were joined.

Trent's hands gripped Amber's hips tightly as he pistoned into her again and again, each stroke hitting that perfect spot within her that made stars burst behind her eyelids. Her moans grew louder with every powerful drive of his hips until she was practically screaming with pleasure.

"Look at me," Trent demanded as he pounded into her relentlessly.

Amber's gaze snapped up to meet Trent's, her eyes wild and unfocused with pleasure. "Yes, look at me!" she gasped out between moans.

Trent reveled in the sight of her: body glistening with sweat, face flushed a deep pink, lips parted as she panted for air. He felt primal and powerful in this moment, completely unstoppable.

"You're so sexy like this," he growled, his voice low and gravelly. "Taking my cock so well."

With renewed intensity, Trent drove into Amber again and again, each thrust hitting harder than the last. The bed creaked beneath them as he fucked her with abandon, lost in the pure sensation of their bodies joining.

"Come on my cock," Trent commanded through gritted teeth, his own climax building rapidly. "Let go for me."

Amber's body tensed as she teetered on the brink, Trent's commanding words pushing her over the edge. With a strangled cry, she convulsed around him, her inner walls clamping down on his throbbing cock as waves of intense pleasure crashed through her.

"That's it," Trent groaned, feeling Amber's pussy milking him for all he was worth. "Squeeze my dick like that."

The sensation of her climax triggered his own orgasm. With a final, brutal thrust, Trent buried himself to the hilt and came hard inside her. He roared out his release, his hips jerking spasmodically as he filled Amber with spurt after spurt of hot semen.

As they rode out their high together, Trent wrapped Amber in his arms and held her close. They were both panting heavily now, sweatdrenched and sated.

"Fuck," Trent breathed against her neck when he could finally speak again. "You're so perfect for me.”

Once he’d mustered the willpower, Trent got out of the bed, his hands guiding Amber as he held her tired body against his leading her into the bathroom from behind so they could shower. 

Trent’s hands cupped her breasts softly, her body still trembling subtly as a result of great, mind-numbing, toe-curling, tear-inducing sex. 

As the hot water cascaded over their intertwined bodies, Trent's hands continued to roam possessively over Amber's curves. He squeezed and massaged her breasts, his touch gentling as her postorgasmic tremors subsided. "You're exhausted, baby," he murmured, nuzzling the side of her neck. "Let me help you clean up."

Trent took the washcloth from her hand and began to lather it with soap, his fingers lingering on her sensitive skin as he cleaned every inch of her. When he reached between her legs, he gently petted her swollen lips and drenched folds, humming softly as he gathered the proof of their coitus. 

After washing away the remnants of their passion, Trent cradled Amber in his arms, carrying her out of the shower and back to their hotel bed. He tucked her into the covers, kissing her forehead tenderly before slipping beneath the sheets himself.

Turning over to face Trent, Amber smiled as she gently traced his plump lips with her fingertip. 

“What was actually said to you tonight?” he asked softly, instantly making Amber’s finger halt their actions. 

“It was Micah,” she explained, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she relived the moment over in her head. “He said that I was beautiful but implied that you would never take me seriously. He made it sound like you were this asshole who doesn’t care about anyone but yourself, and that I someone you could easily share with your friends and that you had before.”

Trent's expression darkened as he listened to Amber recount the hurtful words Micah had said. Anger simmered beneath the surface, and he clenched his jaw, trying to keep his emotions in check. “I can’t believe he would say that to you,” he said, his voice low and filled with frustration. “Do you believe him?”

Amber looked down, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “It just made me question everything again,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Trent reached out, tilting her chin up so she would meet his gaze. “Look at me,” he insisted. 

Bowing his head towards her, he locked eyes with her, his expression earnest and unwavering. “You are not just some passing fling to me, Amber. You’re someone I genuinely care about. I want you to know that.”

Amber felt a rush of warmth at his words, but the doubt still lingered in her mind. She wanted to believe him, but it was only time that could tell if his words held any truth to them.

[amazinglystay]

Curveballs and Close Calls

‧‎₊˚✧ Bf!Seungmin x reader ✧˚₊‧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

warnings!:

Mild language (playful insults like "loser") and a intense sports game with some fluff

(not proof read)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting the baseball field in hues of amber and gold. The energy was electric, the kind that made your chest tight and your palms clammy. You stood just outside the dugout, bouncing on your heels, arms crossed as you squinted at the mound. Seungmin adjusted his cap, his familiar sharp gaze locked on the batter.

The bases were loaded, the score tied, and there were two outs in the bottom of the ninth. A classic baseball cliché, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch.

“Don’t choke, loser,” you muttered, knowing full well he couldn’t hear you. But a small part of you hoped he could.

One of his teammates, sitting next to you on the bench, snorted. “You’re brutal. Isn’t he your boyfriend?”

You smirked, not taking your eyes off Seungmin. “That’s exactly why I can say it. Besides, if he screws this up, he’s walking home.”

That got a laugh from the guys around you, though you didn’t miss the way your fingers tightened nervously around the edge of your jacket.

Out on the mound, Seungmin wound up for the pitch, his form as effortless as ever. You watched as he threw a blistering fastball, the kind you’d seen him perfect over countless late-night practices. The batter swung—and missed. Strike two.

Seungmin stepped off the mound for a moment, his eyes scanning the dugout. You rolled your eyes when he found you, tilting your head as if to say, Get on with it already.

He grinned—just the faintest twitch of his lips—before turning his attention back to the plate. He knew you were freaking out, even if you’d never admit it.

“Show-off,” you muttered, even as your heart flipped.

The next pitch flew out of his hand, a slider that curved wickedly. The batter swung and connected, the crack of the bat sending the ball soaring into the night sky. Your stomach dropped as you watched it arc toward the outfield, where the center fielder sprinted back, his glove raised high.

“Catch it, catch it, catch it,” you whispered under your breath, the words tumbling out like a prayer.

The fielder leaped, his glove snagging the ball just before it could clear the fence. The crowd erupted, cheers drowning out groans from the opposing side. The game was over. Seungmin’s team had won.

The dugout exploded with shouts as his teammates rushed the field, surrounding Seungmin on the mound. You stayed put, leaning against the fence with a small smile tugging at your lips. You’d never admit how proud you were, not right away, anyway.

It didn’t take long for Seungmin to break away from the chaos, jogging toward you with his cap in one hand and a cocky grin plastered across his face. His hair was damp with sweat, his jersey streaked with dirt, and yet he still somehow managed to look annoyingly good.

“Thought you were gonna walk home if you screwed that up,” you teased as he stopped in front of you, his breath still coming fast.

He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Guess I’ll be driving us home, then. You can thank me anytime now.”

“Thank you? For what? Nearly giving me a heart attack?”

“For winning the game,” he replied, leaning down slightly so your faces were inches apart. “Or is that too much to ask from my very supportive girlfriend?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the proximity. “Don’t get used to it, Kim. I’m only sticking around because I promised your mom I’d make sure you don’t starve.”

“Aw, so you do care,” he said, his grin widening.

“Barely.”

But before you could fire off another jab, he reached out, his hand cupping the side of your face. The playful glint in his eyes softened, replaced by something far more sincere.

“You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I was nervous for a second there. But then I looked over at you, and… I don’t know. You kind of make everything feel easier.”

Your heart melted, the teasing retort you’d been ready to throw at him dissolving on your tongue.

“Well, someone has to keep you from falling apart,” you murmured, your voice softening despite yourself.

He smiled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Good thing I’ve got you, then.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all mushy on me now,” you muttered, though your cheeks betrayed you with a telltale blush.

As the celebration roared on behind you, Seungmin laced his fingers with yours, tugging you gently toward the field. “Come on, you’re part of this, too.”

“Pretty sure I didn’t throw the winning pitch,” you said, letting him pull you along.

“Maybe not, but you’re the reason I did.”

And as the two of you stepped onto the field, surrounded by cheers and laughter, you couldn’t help but think that Seungmin was worth all the mean jokes and every heart-stopping moment in between.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

A/n 🖤 : make sure to like or reblog if u enjoyed it and to make sure u eat sleep and drink 👌🏾Okie bye bye now!

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