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takes1 · 15 hours ago

Note

Can you do needy kenma smut????? Plzzzz

needy!kenma can't keep his hands off of you

this was incredibly fun to write lmao, just some nasty, feel-good stuff here

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / established relationship / fluffy smut / whiny!kenma / cuddly!kenma / so much PDA / kuroo wants to third / tired!kenma / cuddlefucking / dacryphilia / switchy!kenma / subby!kenma / kenma begging a lot / cumming inside / f!rec oral / passionate sex / kenma loves head scratches / 2.8k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. requests OPEN

Nekoma was walking away with a laborious and well-fought win against their last opponent of the day. It was a lengthy, painstaking endeavor to watch-- let alone to play it all. With months of experience under your belt, you were prepared for Kenma to be tired.

Yet, as he stumbled up to you, hot and wet and miserable, a shocked chuckle drifted past your lips.

"Mmnh-! Thank Goood," He moaned into the comfort of your shoulder and let himself collapse onto you.

The unbridled sound startled not only you, but got the attention of his teammates, still trying to find their partners or family in the crowded and noisy halls.

You wavered under so much weight at once and took on a staggered stance, having completely underestimated his exhaustion just by the look of him.

"C'm'over t'night-," He begged, right away.

He spared no time to talk about the game, his condition, or to say hello.

"Kenma-!"

You half-laughed at his theatrics and his desperate tone. It wasn't rare for him to be grabby or gropey after a game, but this was explicit stuff for an environment so public. He also wouldn't let up on how much he was leaning on you; although he wasn't a big guy, his dead weight wasn't something you weren't equipped to carry.

"Please b'by," He blubbered against your neck; it turned into a big, wet kiss, and a very intimate whisper, "I need t' hold you..."

A fretful sound stayed shared between you, against his shoulder, before you pushed him off to stand on his own. He quickly sunk to the floor.

"Oh my gosh-," You hauled him right back up, eyes darting around for explanation and found Kuroo, "Is he okay?"

Finally given a strong reason to tease, Kuroo shrugged, leaning closer to your height. He was inspecting him to see if he was at risk for something serious, but found nothing other than his friend's shitty stamina to blame.

Kuroo stood back up, a fake sincerity in his face and to his words, "Hm...Looks like he just needs some T&A."

"You're not helping," You snapped, adjusting under Kenma as he yawned against your hair.

He only snickered at your plight.

The team was supposed to go out for a victory meal, courtesy of their Coach, but Kenma refused to attend if you weren't invited. He refused to do a lot of things, including getting his hands off of you, even when formally told to do so. It was only because Kuroo was their Captain, and held a special fondness for the two of you, that you were vouched for and allowed to be there.

It put you in a tough position. You planned to bring it up to Kenma when he wasn't so useless.

He held you in a vice grip, all bent over, cheek atop your shoulder, the entire ride there. You were stuffed in the corner of the car, suffocated by his body, the addictive smell of his sweaty uniform under a hoodie you brought for him. He flat-ignored every single attempt to talk from the rest of the team, so you took up the mantle of answering for him, if it was needed.

"He's fine- he's just tired," Was one you found yourself repeating at least four times.

But you weren't exactly sure if that was the only thing ailing him. He wasn't usually this bad after a match.

"Carry me?" He begged.

"Baby, you know I can't do that."

He slid like a liquid out of the car, into the restaurant, onto booth seat next to you- practically on top of you. Kuroo trapped the two of you in from the outside and you were once more, squished against a wall.

His leg wrapped around yours, his head returned to your shoulder, arm around you, a groany sigh in his throat.

Kenma was usually very touchy, too touchy- in most cases- but this was a brand new extreme.

"Can we just go home?" Was a question for both you and Kuroo.

You pressed a long, loving peck to his temple, your fingers reached into his hair to scratch his scalp, reassuring.

"No, you need to eat something first."

You tried to stifle your reaction to his hands gripping the table. His eyes were scrunched tight at how fucking good that new manicure felt.

The weight of his head was crashing into your palm, something too close to a whine at the top of his throat.

Your hand was back in your own lap. He leaned towards the absence, dizzy in the aftermath.

The uncontrollable blush crept into every nook and cranny of your face and it only grew in intensity at Kuroo's curiosity and amusement.

"That feel good, buddy?"

"Shut up," Was in a strained mumble.

He accepted the bowl Kuroo built for him as an apology. He ate gradually, much slower than the rest of the team. While most of the guys worked on seconds, thirds, even fourths, Kenma was lucky to finish what he got the first time.

It was good enough.

As promised, it was straight home after the little dinner celebration. You were able to spend the night last-minute, under the excuse that it was late and you were scared of public transportation in the dark, alone.

The thought that he might feel better after a meal and a shower was proven to be just as wrong. He walked out of the bathroom in just his briefs.

Taut, toned and a little tacky to the touch. His fingers scratched at his smooth belly, like he was still hungry.

You set your phone down and slid to sit on the edge of his bed.

"D'you feel any better?"

Now that you were alone, you were much more receptive to his afflictions. He rubbed his hair partially dry, threw the towel on his gaming chair, and collapsed at your feet.

Kenma stuffed his face in your lap, arms wrapped strong around your legs. He took a sobering breath in, but it did nothing to calm himself down.

"Aaah, you smell sooo good-!" He seethed, fingers filling with your soft thighs.

Kenma's affinity for your scent rivaled that of an animal.

He stole long, messy kisses, right at the top of your thighs, spreading your legs further apart- you squirmed at the tingly sensation, but he gripped you tight.

From here, you had a nice view of his lean and chiseled back. You dragged your nails over it, slow and steady circles, as he sighed and grew heavy in your lap.

His kisses grew slower and distracted, but he didn't stop trying to nuzzle in closer to your sex.

"Missed you..." He mumbled.

His admission buzzed through your clothes, inspiring a strong twitch. He grinned.

Palms sliding under your legs, he knocked you off balance to your elbows and shuffled closer, fingers hooking to pull your clothes off until you were completely bare.

When he got this way, he never wanted to talk much. He couldn't hold a conversation for shit when he was hard, so you were limited with what you could get out of him.

If he felt fine enough for this, he must have been okay the whole time.

"So this was all you needed," You muttered to yourself, grumpy about his behavior for only a moment.

The sloppy kiss against your pussy was all the apology you needed.

You relaxed with a whine and slid back onto his sheets. The wet sounds of him eating you gave you butterflies, no matter how often he did it.

"Ooh-, fuuck," You moaned.

The way he pleased you, regardless of method, was always a slow, sleepy endeavor. He carried a kind of dirty ease about it, never struggling to meet your eyes during the raunchiest parts.

He shot his tongue out far to lap at your needy entrance, slow back up to your clit with a kiss, his stare never wavering from your face.

You sucked in a breath through your teeth, your nails back in his hair, and bucked into his strangled groan.

"Did you have some good games today?" You managed to ask, sweet, teasing him.

Your thighs flinched, a whine coming forward, at his long, "Mmmmhmn..."

Hearing him beg for your touch, your body, your attention for hours left you craving him.

You knew he had a short battery for hard work, but he was flat out pathetic all evening. You had never seen him this needy, but it was a huge turn-on.

He met your gaze, leaning hard into your hand.

"You want this pussy?" You tested the waters with a taunt.

His face washed over with complete ease, his brow twisted up tight as he lifted his head from you. You were dripping from his chin.

"Please- yesyes'ys- please--,"

You shushed him- half because it was hot, half because of his family downstairs. You pulled him up by his hair and he rubbed his throbbing erection against you with a whine.

A hot, messy kiss failed to make him quieter, but you were able to at least muffle it.

From here, you could feel how shaky his shoulders were from the demand of the day. It didn't effect how quickly he pulled his cock out and sank into you, never once parting to look or to breathe.

The stretch he gave you was just right- you arched into him, legs bringing him in further.

His sleepy, obsessed gaze only grew harder to focus on as he started to fuck you steady and fast on the edge of his mattress, like he'd been waiting to all day, fantasizing about during every break.

And you lay there, taking him so well, adoring and comforting and supportive- just as you had been, giving up your time to cheer for him at his exhausting day of matches.

"Mmh-!" You whined as he straightened back up, his thumb rolling against your clit.

He was even fucking you with eyes. He wished he could turn you out after every practice, just to blow off steam. If he had your pussy to look forward to, it might motivate him to try a little harder, like Kuroo always joked that he needed.

The glossy, loving look you wore was too much. He grew huffy, tired- closer.

"F-uck," He cried, high and shaky.

His hand squeezed the lower half of your face with varying degrees of strength, as he could manage it. The way he stared down at you was loaded and layered. Somehow mastering the look of both submission and possession.

"You're- mmnh- ahh, you're soo pretty," His eyes rolled back, welled up, another unchecked cry at the back of his throat.

Tears started rolling down his wanton expression. He let you go so he could wipe them.

"Are you- ah-mmn, Okay?"

You reached your hand out to stall his hips. Thighs tired, but squeezing on him to make it harder, but he sniffled and shook his head. He didn't stop.

"You just-," Kenma sobbed again, coming forward to hold you, not forgetting to take the back of your knees with him.

Your shuddery mewl at the motion was talked over- the use of his bodyweight and this position stretched, tightened, your sore pussy around him.

"Feel s-o good."

He shoved his face in the nook of your shoulder, the water from his hair mixing with his tears, soaking the sheets and cooling you off. The struggle in his noise was impossible to distinguish between him crying and moaning.

The lewd sounds of him bottoming out in you had you on edge for a couple of reasons; there was no way his folks couldn't hear this, or least his shitty bedframe squeaking- but he was working you so close to finishing that you didn't dare tell him to be quiet.

"Can I--ah-!" He pulled away, breathy and flushed, his tears dried against his cheeks, "Cum- inside?"

The look, coupled with his deep, rough thrusts, left you speechless. You nodded, unable to form any string of words.

Kenma was all too spoiled- you never had the resolve to deny him at this point, when he needed to cum and asked you nicely. He was so deep, he was so good to you, he begged so well, you couldn't just let him pull out.

You knew you probably shouldn't rely on a little pill to keep this from turning into a big problem, but like every other time he filled you up, it could wait to be worried about.

Right now, you couldn't get enough. You needed it all.

The rhythm of his thrusts got so hard, so fast, you couldn't believe he was acting that tired earlier. You couldn't keep your noise down, and neither could he. So he sandwiched your thighs between you and leaned, even further, to kiss you through your climax.

"Mmn-h," He dug his nails into you, another pitched cry crashing against your sore lips.

Warmth filled you up, leaving you gasping, watching his face, at all the heat he fucked into your spasming cunt.

You were squirming for a while, breath uneven, little whiny noises in his ear, at how hot and sticky and heavy it all was, dripping slow onto the sheets.

His fingers steadied you, grounded you, slow, small, gentle little circles in your hair.

He loved how undone you were, how he could fill you up with just the right amount of dumb for a while if you let him.

Kenma sucked a few bruises into your neck while he waited for you to come down, softening inside but keeping himself buried, mindlessly. He was comfortable. No need to move.

"I'm okay..." You sighed, finally verbal again- he smiled at how cute you were.

He straightened with marked effort. You shared an overstimulated wince at the consequence of the decision.

Eyes closed, you let him slowly straighten your legs back out with a trusting exhale.

"I love you," He affirmed.

It was quiet, simple, and not the first. You brushed his cheek, studying his tear streaks with your thumb as he flopped on his back, next to you. He didn't need to say it out loud for you to know.

A little peck to his chin, "I love you, too."

You stretched, standing, to go clean up and get ready for bed. When you came back from the bathroom, you expected him to be on a game, or at least catching up on his phone.

He was lying just the way you had left him, but fast asleep. Some seize-like twitching confirmed it. He was out cold.

Kenma didn't make a fuss when you had to push him 90 degrees, to get his legs on the bed, and rolled him closer to the center. He quickly fell back asleep, if he had even truly woken up for all of it.

You had just snuggled up to his warm side, falling asleep to his light snoring, when his phone began to ring.

You still answered it straight away in a knee-jerk response, but that's how you knew he was in a deep sleep. He didn't stir at all.

Eyes back on the phone, you realized it was Kuroo and went to say hello.

Your body gave a hard flinch. You didn't realize it was a FaceTime and barely had a second to pan the camera away from anything too incriminating.

He studied, squinting at what he could see. It was just your face, your messy hair, and maybe an aftersex glow, if he looked hard enough.

"Hm. Is Kemma asleep?"

"Mhm," You panned to his sleeping form next to you, not careful enough to leave your shared skin out of it.

He giggled hard at the sight, the sound of him snoring. You heard the clicking of screenshots and grinned at the future grief Kenma would give you for letting it happen. When Kuroo was done, he sucked in a breath.

"Mmm, you did all that?"

You had to take another look at the screen to understand what he meant- if he meant it like that. He sure did. That low-lidded, mischievous smirk was unmistakable.

A roll of your eyes, "What about it?"

He seethed, scanning your pretty, sleepy features. He couldn't resist. "You want me to come finish you off?"

You were too used to his flirting and boundary-ignorance at this point. The best tactic you found was to ignore him.

"Bye, Kuroo--,"

"I'm kiddiiing! Kinda- Ah-hm, You're the best, byyye!"

VIP

@integers @yuchacco

my masterlist. my request box.

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judespoets · 1 day ago

Text

with you | jude bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

requested: yes!

word count: 0.6k

You were never the extroverted kind of person especially with other people. Meeting them was hard for you but when you got along, you were anything but shy and introverted.

Today was no different. You were at an event with your boyfriend, Jude. Normally, you would’ve stayed at home but you saw how excited he got when you agreed to come with him, you didn’t want to ruin this for him.

So as you were currently standing in a group with some of Jude’s teammates after the trophy ceremony, you only listened. They talked about their brake and what they did for Christmas yet you were only standing next to Jude, your arm wrapped around his waist and his hand sitting right above the curve of your back. You felt comfortable like this, you didn’t need to be a part of the conversation, you always liked to just listen to people.

But someone ripped you out of your thoughts. It was Eduardo, you knew him, he was over at your house a few times, meeting with Jude.

“How was your Christmas, did you spend it with Jude?” He asked, oblivious to your disinterest in the conversation.

“Me? Oh I- yeah. We were back in England with Jude’s family.” You answered shortly, not wanting to draw attention to yourself.

Eduardo nodded, wanting to keep the conversation going. “You were at Jobe’s match no?” He asked, wanting to include you.

As you just nodded, wanting to end the conversation as quickly as you could, you felt Jude brushing his fingers over your back, sensing your discomfort.

He placed a kiss to your temple. “We’ll leave in five, okay? We’re basically done here.” He reassured you, knowing you would rather be at home on the couch with him than here.

You just nodded against his mouth, feeling more safe now.

After Jude said goodbye to the people he knew, the two of you sat in the car on your way back home.

Jude’s right hand was resting on your thigh while his other hand was holding the steering wheel confidently, his thumb brushing over your skin every now and then.

The silence between the two of you was comfortable, it always was. The amazing thing with Jude was, that you didn’t need to talk all the time. You could just sit in silence and still feel like you were safe and loved.

Jude understood you better than anyone else so when he felt you wrapping your hands around his arm, leaning tiredly against him, he knew you wanted to just get home.

“You okay, love? Tired?” He asked, glancing at you.

“Yeah, I had fun.” You answered, that being only part of the truth.

“I know you didn’t have fun the whole evening, babe.” He chuckled.

“Yeah, but I’m so proud of you.” You sighed, closing your eyes, feeling exhausted.

“We’re almost home.” He said in understanding.

When Jude and you walked through the front door of your shared home, he immediately bent down, unclipping your heels softly.

And without another word, he swapped your feet off the ground, carrying you to the couch in the living room, lying down next to you.

You immediately cuddled into his side, the affection being the first one today. You missed it.

“Hey babe.” You whispered softly, placing soft kisses against his neck.

“Hey, you. Not so shy anymore, huh?” He asked you, chuckling softly but quickly responding to your touch and turning you to be held by him.

“I like it here, just with you.” You said, the exhaustion of the day catching up with you.

“I like it here too, my love. Thank you for coming with me.” He said, grateful for you being at his side despite you hating it.

“I couldn’t imagine not coming with you. I love you so much, Jude.” You admitted quietly, cuddling into his side further.

“You’re cute, you know? Being shy first and here you’re so extroverted. I love you, babe.” He told you, repeating to kiss your head softly.

And at that moment, everything was perfect, your shy side long forgotten.

#jude bellingham #judespoets #jb22 #jb5 #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fluff

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leftoverghosts · 2 days ago

Text

in the valley of shadow

hades!art x persephone!reader. past art x tashi.

"I'd rather hurt with you than be happy with anyone else."

warnings: dark obsessive art ala hades. use of she/her for reader. no use of y/n. not beta read.

nori says: sfw—i know i said blurbs would be nsfw, but obsessive art takes a lot of me!! crazy to get this same quote for him twice, but i had so much fun!!! as always, xoxo.

word count: 2,000?~

You were twenty three, freshly graduated and just beginning to dip your toes into the world of professional tennis. The bright lights, the buzzing crowds, the endless possibilities—all of it felt like a dream. But among all the faces and all the players, one stood out to you like no other.

Art Donaldson.

Seven years your senior, he was a legend amongst Stanford Alumni and seemed to embody everything you strived to become. His confidence on the court seemed unshakable. Yet, there was something about him that held a shadow, a darkness that made you wonder if there was more beneath that perfection his wife demanded of him.

You first crossed paths with him at a Donaldson Foundation event—an annual gathering where up-and-coming talents like yourself were invited to volunteer with children who had an interest in tennis.

You’d always admired him from afar, reading about his triumphs, watching his old matches, and marveling at how effortlessly he dominated the game. But meeting him face-to-face left you speechless. His gaze was penetrating, as if he could see right through you.

"How’s it feel to be the next big thing?" he asked with a knowing smile, his warm voice enveloping you.

It was a simple question, one you could have easily answered thanks to your media training in college. But as you looked into his eyes, something inside you stirred.

“I’m just starting out. Still have a long way to go,” you gesticulated wildly, trying to appear humble.

He chuckled, a sound that was full of harrowing amusement. “We all start somewhere, but not all of us get to where we want to go.”

You smiled nervously, but the words stuck in your throat. He was magnetic. Something about him made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t felt before.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

From then on, whenever you found yourself in the same vicinity as the Donaldsons, Art would make a point to seek you out. Your discussions were never long, but they always left you feeling exhilarated.

When you won, his compliments were overflowing. But when you lost, his analysis of your gameplay felt like a puzzle, filled with subtle warnings. You told yourself it was just his love for the game and his drive to push those around him to be their best.

It would have been easy to romanticize his intensity, to make excuses for the way his eyes lingered a bit too long or how his questions about your career felt overly personal, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

He was married, you knew that.

Tashi was always by his side, a constant presence that kept him grounded in the public eye. But there were moments when you could see the cracks in their united front. They manifested in the way he looked at you during the press events, or how he’d make a point of saying goodnight to you in crowded rooms when the evening grew late.

You convinced yourself that it was all harmless. That Art saw something in you, as a fan and a mentor of sorts. A fellow athlete who could understand the sacrifices, the pressures of the game.

He had a way of making you feel desired, whether it was a fleeting touch on your arm or a lingering look that made your heart race. You wanted his attention, and he gave it to you. But you were naive enough to believe it was just admiration.

It wasn't until later that you realized Art wasn't someone who admired from afar— he wanted to consume you.

There was a moment—a turning point—that you would look back on, your heart in your throat, wondering what you’d been thinking.

You were alone in a back hallway of a hotel during a tournament. Tashi was elsewhere, surrounded by other players and the media, and Art had found you, waiting for you just outside the elevator.

“I saw you play today,” he said softly, tenderly moving away the hair from your face. He was too close for this to be considered friendly, but you didn’t push at him. “You have something, you know. Something special.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, feeling your cheeks flush under his touch.

"With the right team behind you, you could be more than just a player," he continued, pressing you against the wall as his voice dropped even lower. "You could be everything. Let me help you."

It wasn’t the words that alarmed you. It was the way he said them, as if he had already planned your future for you. The weight of his gaze felt like chains.

“I don't need anyone's help," you blurted out before pausing to think. “I’m doing this on my own.”

Something shifted in Art's expression, for just a moment, he looked almost vulnerable. He wasn't just the fierce and intense athlete you idolized; he was human. “You don’t have to be alone.” He brushed his lips against yours softly, “I can show you how much more you can be. How much more you can have.”

And that was when it hit you—the real reason you were drawn to him. It wasn’t the tennis. It wasn’t the accolades or the fame. It was that, for the first time, someone powerful had noticed you. Someone who could offer you everything— success, the world, and something darker and more alluring than you ever imagined.

But before you could respond, before you could step closer to the edge of that precipice, a voice called from down the hall, pulling you back to reality.

It was Tashi, her tone commanding, and when Art turned to look at her, there was a fleeting trace of annoyance on his face.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he offered you a small, almost sad smile, and then turned to walk away.

You stood there, breathless, heart pounding in your chest.

You had slipped from his grasp. For now.

But you knew that Art was a man who didn’t let go easily.

And sooner or later, he would come for you again.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The locker room was eerily silent, save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead. Another win on the court meant nothing to you, as the weight of failure in your personal life pressed against your bones. Your racket bag sat slumped against the bench, abandoned like a forgotten piece of yourself. You rubbed at your temples, exhaustion and frustration clawing at you in equal measure.

“You played well,” came a voice from the doorway, warm and unmistakable.

Frightened, you looked up.

Art stood there, leaning casually against the inside frame of the only exit. He was dressed impeccably, as always—dark slacks and a perfectly tailored dress shirt you had given him, made him look more like a businessman than a retired athlete. His piercing blue eyes, with that gorgeous speck of brown, were locked onto you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

In one hand, he held a bottle of pomegranate juice— your favorite drink.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice clipped, though you already knew the answer. Art was not one to listen to mortal things like court orders.

“I’m your coach, remember?” he shrugged, stepping inside as the door swung shut behind him. “It’s my job to be here for you.”

You stood up, putting the bench between you and the man who you hoped would soon be your ex-husband. “I told you I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want you anymore.”

If anything, your words seemed to amuse him. “You’re upset,” he said calmly, as though addressing a child. “You’re not thinking clearly. I’ve done everything to help you—your sponsorship, your career, your success. That’s all because of me.”

Your stomach turned, upset that you were unable to deny those words in their entirety. “You manipulated me. You isolated me from everyone who mattered. I didn’t ask for any of this!”

“Those distractions?“ Art’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained steady, one of his eyebrows raised in question. “You think they cared about you the way I do? No one else would go to these lengths for you. No one else could understand you like I do.”

“This isn’t understanding, Art. This is control.”

“Control?” he echoed softly, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. He was a man full of contradictions—each calculated move wrapped in a smile. For every decision made without your knowledge, there had been a kiss or a whisper to try and soothe your apprehension. It had worked before, and there was no reason to believe it wouldn't work now. To him, this was a tantrum that he was tired of waiting for you to finish. “Is that what you think this is? No. This is love. Love that no one else will ever be capable of giving you.”

“I’ve heard this before, Art. You’re hurting me like she hurt you.” You did not have to say Tashi’s name to be understood by him. She had been the one before you, the one who had owned him, in a way that still haunted him, even now. The thought of her, the reminder that Art’s heart had belonged to someone else, made a bitter knot tighten in your chest. It wasn’t just about jealousy—it was about the fear that he would never truly be yours the way he had been hers. “You still think about her,” you accused, your voice trembling with inadequacy.

“It’s not her, it’s you,” he replied, shaking his head. “I’m always thinking of you. I’d rather hurt with you than be happy with anyone else.” You sucked in a breath, upset that his declaration excited you and he knew—he knew the power he held over you, and he would never relinquish it.

He had already decided your fate. He was your captor, and you were his prize.

“I’m leaving,” you said, your voice fearful but resolute. “You can’t stop me.”

Art’s gaze flickered, and for the briefest moment, you thought you saw something crack beneath his calm facade. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by a chilling certainty.

“Try,” he said, his lips curling into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His voice, low and laced with menace, seemed to echo in the space around you. “You don’t understand, do you? This isn’t something you can just walk away from. Not anymore. We’re married.”

The words hit you like a thunderclap, the truth of them shattering the last vestiges of resistance in your chest. Art wasn’t just a man obsessed with you. He was a man willing to destroy everything in his path to keep you by his side. The world you thought you could escape to was gone. You were his wife, bound to him in ways you hadn't yet fully understood until now.

You frozen in place as he took a slow step forward, and watched as his gaze was drawn to the small but noticeable tan left behind by the missing wedding ring on your finger. His brand.

You could sense his anger just by the way his lips slightly parted as he reached for the bottle of juice and unscrewed the cap, taking a slow, deliberate sip before offering it to you. You gaped at the bottle in his hand.

A rush of panic flooded your chest, but before you could speak, Art closed the distance between you. His fingertips brushed against your cheek as he forcefully pulled you towards him, crushing his lips onto yours. The kiss was hard, demanding, as if he were pulling your very soul from your body. His tongue slipped past your lips, and you whimpered, caught in the web of his obsession.

The taste of pomegranate juice lingered on your palate, sweet but tainted, just like everything else Art had ever given you.

He pulled back just enough to whisper, his breath warm against your skin. "We are one. As we were always meant to be."

Your pulse raced, heart pounding, as you tried to regain some semblance of control, but his grip on you was relentless. He wasn’t letting you slip away again, not after everything he’d done to claim you.

And with every second you stood there, you could feel the walls closing in, just like the dark, silent underworld that had already begun to welcome you home.

#hades!art #nori's christmas gift #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #challengers 2024 #challengers x reader #challengers x you #challengers fanfic #mike faist #noriwroteit

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kawoala · 21 hours ago

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hi!! i would like to request sakusa having a very cheerful girlfriend who gradually changes her appearance little by little, he doesn’t notice it because he thinks she’s beautiful in any way, like lets say she used to have this fluffy wavy hair then she just smoothen it and her clothes used to have fun patterns on them now its just plain. then one day he just goes “what happened to your hair?” And she just breaks down because she did all that so that she could fit into his ‘type’. you can make it as fluffy or as angsty as you wantt, thank youu sm💗💗

𝐊𝐈𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀 fit in word count ; (777) content warning ; (first time writing for him BEAR WITH ME, curly hair! reader, insecurity, angst to comfort, profanity, crying)

It starts off small. So small, in fact, that Kiyoomi convinces himself that he’s imagining things.

The first thing he notices is small. A mute blue hoodie instead of your usual bright yellow one. If he were anyone else, he wouldn’t have even noticed it. He thought it was odd at the moment, but assumed you just hadn’t done laundry.

The next thing he notices is that you’ve been gradually replacing your loud jewelry— different shaped beads of all shapes and colors— with simple, silver jewelry. He wants to comment on it, but he assumes you’re just trying out new things. You’ve always liked to do that, right?

When you start straightening your hair more often and wearing it in slick-backs, he’s confused. You’re basically a shell of your past self by now. Fun, loud colors turned to dark, muted colors. If he was paying closer attention, he would compare it to his own closet and see the similarity. Jewelry that clinks against each other with each step, is now a simple chain with a heart pendant. Your beautiful curly hair— now straight, hanging down your back as you do the dishes.

Kiyoomi sits at the dining room table, eyes narrowed as he pieces all of this change together. His chin is in his hand, his elbow on the table, one finger framing his face. He wants to say something— badly. But if he does? Who knows what will happen. Maybe you’re just growing. That’s a thing people do, right? People change over the years. Kiyoomi knows he sure as hell has.

“You straightened your hair,” he finally says, breaking the silence. He watches as you stop scrubbing the dish you're holding. “And you stopped wearing your jewelry.”

You hesitate to answer, he can see that. Your body twitches as if it’s going to turn around, but you don’t. You continue scrubbing at the dish. “I, um, got overstimulated. Couldn’t deal with the curls and the, uh, loud beads.”

Kiyoomi hums, because he knows you’re lying. There’s a shake to your voice that he can’t quite place.

“Do you not like it?” Your voice is quiet. Tentative. Timid. Something he’s never heard from you before.

He stands from the table and walks over to you, standing directly behind you. “I love you in all shapes and forms,” he says. “But you straightened your hair yesterday. And the day before that. And you put your jewelry in a box in the closet.” You turn to look at him, eyes widened a fraction. “Yeah, I saw it.” He frowns. “What’s going on? Why are you… changing yourself?”

You press your lips together and avoid his eyes. He takes your chin in his hand, making you look at him. His heart skips at the sight of tears on your waterline. “What’s wrong, Y/n?”

“I… I was just…” you can’t even get your sentence out. “You’re so clean. You and your family are… You’re nice and proper and rich and I am not. I am loud and obnoxious and I dress like an elementary school teacher and my hair is loud and big and I do not fit in with you.”

Kiyoomi is stunned. The words tumble out of your mouth, tears fall down your cheeks and Kiyoomi can’t move. His lips part in a desperate attempt to speak, but nothing comes out.

Kiyoomi has never been one for physical affection. Growing up, his parents never hugged him. His sister was much older, so she wasn’t around to fulfill that either. But in this moment, as the tears don’t stop and you’re practically choking on your own breath, Kiyoomi presses your face into his chest and wraps his arms around you.

“You are perfect just the way you are,” Kiyoomi mumbles into your hair. “I love your big, curly hair and I love the way you dress and I love you. You don’t need to change who you are just because you think you don’t fit in. You do fit in with me. And who gives a fuck what my parents think, hm? They don’t even know you, Y/n, but if they did, they would love you too. It’s not how you dress, or how you act, it’s you. I love you.”

Slowly but surely, your breathing steadies. You’re no longer choking on your own breath, no longer shaking. You keep your face pressed into his chest.

You pull away eventually and stare up at him with big, wet eyes. “I love you too.”

He presses another kiss into your hair and smiles down at you. “Good. Now, what do you want for dinner? I’ll make it tonight, okay?”

#kawoala #haikyuu #return to sender #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #hq sakusa #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi x reader

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xomakara · 2 days ago

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After Midnight

SUMMARY | You are on a blind date, and the guy turns out to be a total jerk. Increasingly uncomfortable, but too polite to get up and leave, you are grateful to be rescued by Yangyang, the cute college frat boy in your class and the object of your affections, who comes over and gives you an out.

PAIRINGS | Yangyang x Reader

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked

GENRE | smut, college au, non-idol au, blind date gone wrong

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), fingering, slight dirty talk, praising, vaginal penetration

LENGTH | 8,887 words

TAGLIST | ---

NETWORKS | @k-vanity @ksmutsociety

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Finally managed to get something written for Yangyang! Finally! Thank you @shadowkoo for the beautiful banner! I hope you all like it and enjoy it 💚

The dimly lit bar feels like a scene out of someone else’s life. The hum of conversation buzzes around you, but it feels distant, muffled by the tightening knot in your stomach. You shift uncomfortably on the barstool, your fingers tracing the condensation on your glass. Across from you sits Wooseok—your blind date. A guy who seemed charming over texts but now drips with an arrogance so thick it could coat the walls.

“So,” he says, leaning back arrogantly, his smirk as cocky as his tone. “You into sports? Or are you one of those artsy types?”

You force a smile, trying to mask the irritation clawing at you. “A little of both, I guess.”

His laugh is sharp, dismissive. “Yeah, I heard that one before. Bet you love yoga or something, right? All that ‘namaste’ crap.”

Oh god. You glance at your half-empty drink, wishing it were stronger, faster. Anything to numb this awkwardness. Why did you agree to this? Why didn’t you just ghost him when his condescension became clear over text? But no, you’d been raised too well for that. Too polite. Too much of a people-pleaser. And now here you are, stuck.

He picks up the thread again, his voice rising above the ambient noise. “Anyway, I’m more of a gym guy. You know, real fitness. Not that flaky stuff. Gotta stay in shape, especially if you want to keep up with me.”

You nod absently, your eyes darting across the room. Relief floods through you as you spot Yangyang, the cute frat boy from your class. He’s sitting with a group of friends a few tables over, laughing and sipping beers. His smile lights up the room, and you feel a pang of longing.

If only this were a date with him.

As if sensing your gaze, Yangyang glances over. Their eyes meet, and for a moment, everything else fades away. His lips curl into a reassuring half-smile, and you feel a flutter of hope. Maybe—just maybe—he’ll save you from this nightmare.

But then your date leans closer, his cologne overpowering even the faint smell of beer and smoke. “So, what do you say we get out of here? Maybe grab some dessert? My treat, of course.”

His tone is smooth, almost too smooth, and there’s something in his eyes that makes your skin crawl. You open your mouth to decline, but the words catch in your throat. Before you can muster a response, Yangyang stands up, his attention shifting fully to you.

“Y/N!” he calls out, his voice warm and playful. “How’s it going?”

Your date frowns, his annoyance obvious. “Who’s this guy?”

You feel a surge of gratitude as Yangyang approaches, his presence radiating confidence.

“I’m Yangyang,” he says, extending his hand to your date. “A friend of hers. Classmate, actually.”

Your date shakes his hand reluctantly, his jaw tight. “Nice to meet you.”

Yangyang’s grin widens, and he turns to you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You weren’t answering my texts earlier, so I figured I’d come find you. What’s the deal? Having fun?”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift. But then you realize—he’s giving you an out. A way to escape this unbearable situation. “Oh, uh… yeah, sure. It’s been… interesting.”

Yangyang chuckles, his gaze flicking between you and your date. “Well, I hate to interrupt, but we’ve got that group project meeting tomorrow, and I need to go over some notes with you. You free to head out now?”

There’s a pause, and you can practically see the gears turning in your date’s head. Finally, he straightens up, his pride clearly wounded. “Sounds like you’ve got plans. Guess I’ll let you go.”

You stand quickly, relief washing over you. “Thanks for… uh, dinner? Drinks? This.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, no problem. Have fun with your… homework.”

Yangyang steps closer, his arm brushing yours as he guides you toward the exit. “Don’t be rude, man. Have a good night.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, once you’re out of earshot.

Yangyang grins, his dimples deepening. “No problem. Couldn’t let you suffer through that alone. You looked like you needed rescuing.”

You laugh softly, the tension easing slightly. “You have no idea. How did you even know it was me?”

“Oh, I saw you walk in earlier,” he admits, his voice lowering. “Figured I’d wait a bit, see how things went. When things got weird, I knew I had to intervene.”

You glance at him, your cheeks heating. “That’s… kind of amazing, actually.”

He shrugs, looking away briefly. “Happens to the best of us. Anyway, you okay? Want to grab some coffee or something? My treat.”

Your heart skips a beat. Coffee? With him?

“I’d like that,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

You both step outside, the cool night air hitting your faces. Yangyang walks close enough that both of your arms brush occasionally, sending shivers down your spine.

“So,” he says, his tone light but teasing. “What’s next?”

You turn to him, your pulse quickening. “Depends,” you reply, feeling bold suddenly. “What do you want to do?”

“Funny you should ask,” he whispers, his voice low and husky. He meets your gaze, his eyes dark and intense. “Because I’ve been thinking about this all night.”

Before you can respond, he steps closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “Do you trust me?” he asks, his voice barely audible.

You swallow hard, your heart racing. “Yes.”

He smiles faintly, his hand reaching out to lightly touch your waist. “Good. Because I don’t wanna take this slow.”

And then, without waiting for an answer, he presses his lips to yours. His kiss lingers on your lips, a sweet, dizzying sensation that makes your knees weak. You glance up at him, his dark hair catching the faint glow of the streetlights, and he grins, a playful glint in his eyes.

“So,” he says, his voice light but teasing, “coffee? Or do you want to see if I can make this even more interesting?”

You laugh softly, feeling a strange mix of nerves and excitement. The date with Wooseok feels like a distant nightmare now, washed away by Yangyang’s effortless charm.

“Coffee sounds good,” you reply, tilting your head slightly. “But if you’re trying to impress me, you might have to work harder than that.”

He chuckles, the sound low and warm, and nudges you playfully. “Challenge accepted.”

The two of you walk side by side down the dimly lit sidewalk, the quiet hum of the city surrounding you. Yangyang leads you to a small, cozy café tucked away from the main street, its windows glowing warmly. Inside, the air smells of freshly brewed coffee and baked pastries, and the soft murmur of conversation fills the space. A young barista behind the counter glances up with a bright smile as you approach.

“Hey, Yangyang,” the barista says, their tone friendly but subtly flirtatious. “Long time no see. What can I get for you tonight?”

Yangyang smiles back, leaning casually on the counter. “Hey, Ruby. Two coffees, please—something strong. And maybe a slice of that chocolate cake.”

“Coming right up,” Ruby replies, their fingers already moving deftly over the espresso machine.

As Ruby works, Yangyang turns to you, his expression shifting to one of curiosity.

“So,” he begins, his voice dropping just enough to feel intimate in the bustling café, “what made you agree to a blind date with him? He seemed… not your type.”

You sigh, shaking your head as you think back to Jake’s arrogance. “I don’t know. I guess I thought it was worth giving it a shot? But yeah, he was… not my type. At all.”

Yangyang nods, his gaze lingering on you as if he’s trying to read something deeper. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. Not when you’ve got me around.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you meet his gaze, feeling a sudden intensity in the air between you. Before you can respond, Ruby sets down two steaming mugs on the counter, each topped with a swirl of foam.

“Here you go,” Ruby says, sliding the plate with the chocolate cake toward you. “Enjoy.”

“Thanks,” Yangyang says, taking the mugs and handing one to you. “Let’s grab a table.”

You follow him to a small corner booth, the dim lighting casting shadows that make the space feel private. As you sit across from him, the warmth of the mug in your hands contrasts with the coolness of the night outside. Yangyang takes a slow sip of his coffee, watching you over the rim of his cup.

“So,” he says again, setting his mug down carefully, “tell me something about yourself. Something real.”

You raise an eyebrow, feeling both amused and intrigued by his directness. “Something real? What kind of question is that?”

He shrugs, leaning back in his seat, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. “You seem like someone who doesn’t open up easily. So, I’m curious. What’s something most people wouldn’t know about you?”

Your heart skips a beat at the question, and you shift uncomfortably, unsure how much you want to reveal. But there’s something about the way Yangyang looks at you—calm, attentive, and genuine—that makes it hard to resist.

“Okay,” you say slowly, picking at the edge of the cake with your fork. “I… write poetry. Like, really bad stuff, mostly. But it helps me process things.”

Yangyang’s lips curl into a slow, appreciative smile. “That’s pretty cool. Do you ever show it to anyone?”

You shake your head, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. “No. It’s just… for me. Private.”

He nods thoughtfully, his gaze never leaving yours. “Fair enough. Maybe one day, though, you’ll let me read some. If you want to.”

The suggestion hangs in the air, heavy with possibility, and you find yourself wondering what it would be like to share that part of yourself with him. Before you can dwell on it too much, Yangyang reaches across the table, his fingers brushing lightly against yours.

“You don’t have to answer that,” he says softly, his touch sending tingles up your arm. “But I hope you know I’d listen. To anything you wanted to say.”

You swallow hard, feeling the heat of his words settle deep in your chest.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Yangyang’s expression shifts, a flicker of something raw crossing his face before it settles into a gentle smile.

“Maybe because I like you,” he admits, his voice low and sincere. “And maybe because I saw the way he was treating you, and I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to fix it. For you.”

The honesty in his words leaves you breathless, and you realize, with a jolt, that you’ve been holding onto so much tension since the start of the night. With him, though, it’s different. Easier. Like you can finally exhale.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say quietly.

“Yeah, I did,” he replies, his voice firm but warm. “Because you deserve better than that. And if you’ll let me, I’d like to show you how much better.”

The sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, and you find yourself nodding slowly, a knot of emotion tightening in your throat.

“Okay,” you manage to say, your voice shaky.

Yangyang’s smile returns, brighter this time, and he leans forward, his hand slipping beneath the table to rest on your thigh. The contact sends a spark through you, and you bite your lip, glancing up at him with uncertainty.

“I really like you, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice filled with promise. "Tell me if I’m moving too fast.”

Your pulse quickens, and you feel the weight of his hand on your leg, warm and deliberate. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”

He laughs softly, his breath feathering against your cheek as he closes the distance between you. “Like I said before, I don’t wanna take this slow.”

And then his lips are on yours again, soft and insistent, pulling a quiet gasp from deep within you. His hand tightens slightly on your thigh, drawing you even closer, and you melt into the kiss, your fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie.

The world seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you and the electric hum of connection. His tongue traces the curve of your bottom lip, and you part your mouth willingly, deepening the kiss until you’re both breathless. When he finally pulls back, his eyes are dark with desire, and he presses his forehead against yours, his breath hot and uneven.

“God, you’re incredible,” he whispers, his voice ragged. You don’t have the chance to respond before he speaks again, his voice thick with urgency. “We should go somewhere quieter. Somewhere we can focus on each other.”

Yangyang’s hand slips into yours, his fingers interlacing with yours as he leads you out of the café. The cool night air nips at your skin, but his touch is warm and grounding, a steady anchor in the otherwise chaotic evening. His hoodie swishes against his jeans as he walks, and you can feel the faint hum of excitement radiating off him.

“Where are we going?” you ask, your voice just above a whisper, curious and a little nervous.

He glances at you, his smile soft and mischievous. “Trust me?”

You hesitate for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah.”

He squeezes your hand tighter, like he’s trying to reassure you without saying it aloud. And then he breaks into a light jog, tugging you along with him. You don’t question it, following his lead with a laugh bubbling up in your chest. There’s something freeing about running through the streets with him, letting go of all the awkwardness and tension from earlier tonight.

The park comes into view after a few minutes, its gates already closed for the night. But Yangyang doesn’t seem fazed. He pulls you along the iron fence until he finds a small gap where a section of bars has rusted and bent outward.

“Shortcut,” he says with a wink, crouching down to slip through first. You hesitate again, looking around nervously. The park is eerily quiet, the shadows of trees stretching across the ground like skeletal hands. But Yangyang sticks his head back through the gap, his eyes bright and encouraging. “Come on, I promise it’s worth it.”

Swallowing your doubts, you duck through the gap after him, brushing dirt off your jeans as you straighten up. Yangyang takes your hand again, guiding you deeper into the park, away from the well-lit paths and toward the darker, more secluded areas. The crunch of leaves underfoot grows louder, and the scent of damp earth fills the air.

Finally, he stops near a large oak tree, its branches twisted and gnarled, reaching out like they’re trying to embrace the sky. The moonlight filters through the gaps in the canopy above, casting dappled patterns on the ground. It’s quiet here—peaceful, almost magical.

"Here?" You asked.

"Yeah," Yangyang nods. "Look up."

You tilt your head back, feeling a rush of awe as you take in the view. The stars glitter against a dark blue background, like tiny pinpricks of light in an infinite canvas. The air feels clear and fresh here, free from the noise of the city, and the wind rustles softly through the trees, adding to the serenity.

"I wanted to bring you to my spot," Yangyang murmurs. "Where I go when everything gets too much. When the world feels overwhelming."

You looked at him. "I'm sure you bring other girls here."

"Nah," he replies, a flicker of regret crossing his eyes. "I came here before I even joined the frat. Back when it was just me, getting by on scholarships and part-time jobs."

You reach for his hand, running your thumb along his knuckles gently. "You had a tough time?"

He smiles sadly. "Yeah. And even now, when I've got help with tuition and the whole student life deal... the pressures are still there, you know?"

It's strange to hear him talking like this, opening himself up to you. It feels vulnerable and intimate. You take a tentative step towards him. "I think I can relate. Even though I have a scholarship and good parents, I still have to balance work, studying and finding time for social life, and it can be a lot."

Yangyang nods, and you can tell he understands. He tilts his head, searching your face as he searches his next words. "What would help you deal with all that?"

The question takes you by surprise. You think it over carefully. "Spending time with friends. Releasing emotions through writing. Watching tv." You look back up at the stars and try again. "But the thing that helps most, the most soothing thing for me, is just going somewhere alone, listening to nature or the city. Finding somewhere peaceful and calming."

"Somewhere like here?" He asks.

"Yeah," you sigh contentedly. "I haven't found somewhere quite like it, though."

His hands settle on your hips as he pulls you in for a sweet, lingering kiss, his teeth lightly grazing your lower lip. You smile against his lips, and the butterflies in your stomach turn into something wild. He backs you up against the trunk of the tree, his body flush with yours, and you can't help but run your hands up his neck and into his soft, dark curls. The moonlight illuminates his face, revealing the hunger in his gaze. You close your eyes as he trails kisses down your neck, sending a thrill up your spine. He lifts his head and searches your gaze again.

God, he tastes so good, you think, your mind hazy with desire. His flavor is sweet, like the coffee you shared earlier, but there’s an undercurrent of something wild and untamed, something that sets your pulse racing even faster.

When he pulls back, his breath comes out in uneven puffs, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Fuck,” he mutters, leaning his forehead against yours. “I’ve wanted to do that since the first day I saw you in class.”

Your lips curve into a smile, giddy and breathless. “Really?”

He nods, his curls bouncing slightly. “Every time you walked into the room, I couldn’t focus on anything else. You have no idea how many times I almost asked you out, but I kept chickening out.”

You laugh softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Well, I’m glad you finally did.”

“Me too,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. Then his lips are on yours again, softer this time, more deliberate. His hands roam down your sides, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to rest on the bare skin of your lower back. The coolness of the night air contrasts sharply with the warmth of his palms, sending a shiver up your spine.

You press closer to him, your own hands fumbling with the zipper of his hoodie. When you pull it down, he shrugs it off his shoulders, tossing it aside without a second thought. Underneath, he’s wearing a plain white T-shirt that clings to his torso, outlining the muscles you only catch glimpses of during class. Your fingers dip beneath the fabric, skimming across his skin, feeling the tautness of his stomach beneath your touch.

He groans into your mouth, his body tensing under your exploration. “Jesus,” he breathes, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “You’re killing me.”

You smirk against his lips, feeling a surge of confidence. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” he growls, pulling you even closer. “Not even close.”

His hands move higher, sliding up your ribcage until they’re cupping your breasts over your bra. You arch into his touch, a needy sound escaping your throat. His thumb brushes across your nipple, teasing it into a hard peak, and you gasp, your head tilting back as pleasure shoots through you.

“Yangyang…” you murmur, half-pleading, half-whining.

He presses a quick series of kisses along your jawline, his breath hot against your skin. “Tell me what you want,” he says, his voice thick with hunger.

You bite your lip, suddenly shy. “I…”

He grins, his teeth flashing in the dim light. “That’s okay. Let me guess.”

And without waiting for your answer, his hands shift again, one sliding down to palm your ass while the other slips beneath your waistband, his fingertips trailing dangerously close to where you need him most.

Your breath hitches, your whole body trembling with anticipation. “Yangyang…” you say again, this time more urgently.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes gleaming with desire. “Yeah?”

“Please,” you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible.

His answering smile is slow and triumphant. “Anything for you.”

Your breath catches in your throat as Yangyang’s lips press against yours again, this time with a hunger that sends shivers down your spine. His hands move to your hips, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. You melt into him, your fingers threading through his dark curls as the world around you fades away. The cool night air is no match for the heat building between you, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest.

Just as you’re about to deepen the kiss, a sharp voice cuts through the silence. “Hey! You two! What do you think you’re doing?”

You freeze, your body stiffening as you recognize the authoritative tone. Slowly, you pull away from Yangyang, your eyes widening as you turn toward the source of the noise. A tall, broad-shouldered park ranger stands a few feet away, his arms crossed and his jaw set in disapproval. His uniform fits him like a glove, emphasizing his muscular build, and his sharp, observant gaze locks onto you both.

Yangyang curses under his breath, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Crap,” he mutters, tugging at your hand. “Let’s go. Now.”

Before you can respond, he’s already pulling you deeper into the shadows beneath the tree. Your pulse races as you follow him, the thrill of being caught making your stomach twist in knots. You glance back over your shoulder, your heart pounding as the ranger takes a step closer, his flashlight sweeping across the ground.

“I said stop!” the ranger calls out, his voice echoing through the park.

You press yourself closer to Yangyang, your breaths coming in short bursts. “What do we do?” you whisper, your voice trembling.

Yangyang glances around frantically, his mind working quickly. “We need to lose him,” he says, his eyes darting toward a small trail leading deeper into the park. “Come on, let’s go this way.”

Without waiting for your response, he drags you along the path, his grip firm but reassuring. The trees close in around you, their branches creating a natural barrier from the ranger’s view. You stumble slightly, the uneven ground making it difficult to keep up, but Yangyang’s hand stays locked around yours, guiding you forward.

The sound of heavy footsteps grows louder behind you, and you can hear the ranger muttering under his breath. “Kids these days… always causing trouble,” he grumbles, his frustration evident.

Yangyang smirks despite the situation, his playful nature peeking through. “Don’t worry,” he whispers, squeezing your hand. “We’ll give him the slip.”

You can’t help but laugh nervously, the tension between you and Yangyang growing stronger with every step. As you round a corner, Yangyang pulls you into a dense bush, muffling your laughter with his hand. You hold your breath as the ranger’s flashlight beam passes by, illuminating the leaves around you momentarily.

When the light disappears, Yangyang releases a shaky laugh. “That was close,” he says, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

You nod, your heart still racing from the adrenaline. “Too close,” you agree, your voice barely above a whisper.

Yangyang’s gaze softens as he looks at you, his playful demeanor melting into something more serious. “You okay?” he asks, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You nod again, feeling a warmth spread through you at his concern. “Yeah,” you say, smiling faintly. “Just… a little shaken.”

He chuckles, his confidence returning. “Well, I guess we showed him, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face doesn’t fade. “I wouldn’t exactly call that showing him.”

Yangyang shrugs, his dimples deepening as he grins. “Close enough. Now…” He pauses, his expression turning mischievous once more. “How about we get out of here before he comes back?”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by his suggestion. “And go where?”

His grin widens, and he steps closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “My place,” he murmurs, his voice low and inviting. “It’s not far. We can be there in ten minutes.”

Your pulse quickens at the thought, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling in your chest. Part of you wants to playfully protest, to tease him about his boldness, but the other part—the part that’s been drawn to him since the moment he walked into your life—is already saying yes.

Yangyang must sense your hesitation, because he adds, “I promise, it’ll be worth it.”

You look into his eyes, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all you find is sincerity and a flicker of desire. And maybe, just maybe, a touch of vulnerability. It’s that last part that seals the deal, pushing aside any lingering doubts.

“Okay,” you say softly, your voice barely audible.

His answering smile lights up his entire face, and without another word, he takes your hand and leads you out of the bush, navigating the dimly lit paths of the park with ease. The cool night air brushes against your skin, sending goosebumps down your arms, but Yangyang’s touch keeps you grounded, his presence a steady anchor in the chaos.

As you leave the park behind, the streetlights guide your way, casting long shadows that stretch and shrink with each step. Yangyang’s pace quickens, his excitement palpable, and you can’t help but match it, your own anticipation building with every passing second.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity but is probably only a few minutes, Yangyang stops in front of a modest apartment building. His free hand reaches into his pocket, pulling out a set of keys as he unlocks the door. He ushers you inside, his movements almost frantic with eagerness.

The apartment is cozy, with simple furnishings and a faint scent of laundry detergent and fresh air—just like him. Yangyang leads you to the living room, where he finally lets go of your hand, turning to face you. His chest rises and falls slightly, his breathing still a little uneven from the rush of the escape.

“So,” he says, his voice low and teasing, “what do you think?”

You take a moment to survey the room, your eyes lingering on the small details—the bookshelf filled with textbooks and novels, the worn couch draped with a blanket, the faint hum of a refrigerator in the background. It’s nothing fancy, but it feels lived-in, comfortable. And somehow, that makes it even more appealing.

“It’s nice,” you admit, your voice soft.

Yangyang’s smile returns, warmer now, less playful and more genuine. “Good,” he says simply, stepping closer. “Because I didn’t bring you here just to show you my apartment.”

Your breath hitches as he closes the distance between you, his hands reaching up to cradle your face. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, and you can feel the sincerity in every brush of his fingertips. When his lips meet yours, it’s slow and deliberate, a marked contrast to the urgency of earlier.

This time, there’s no rush, no fear of being interrupted. Just the two of you, lost in the embrace that neither of you seems willing to break.

Yangyang breaks the kiss, his eyes locking with yours. His hands slide down to your shoulders, then lower, tracing the curve of your back until they settle on your hips. The heat between you is palpable, a tangible force that seems to push and pull at the edges of your restraint.

“Do you trust me?” he asks quietly, his voice low and steady.

You nod, though the question sends a shiver through you. Trust. It’s such a simple word, yet it feels so heavy in this moment. You realize, almost suddenly, that you do trust him—completely. There’s something about the way he looks at you, like you’re the only person in the world who matters, that makes it impossible not to.

“Good,” he says, his lips curving into a sly smile. “Because I want to show you something.”

Without waiting for a response, he takes your hand and leads you deeper into his apartment. The hallway is dimly lit, the soft glow of a lamp casting long shadows across the floor. The air is quiet, save for the faint sound of your footsteps and the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards beneath you.

Yangyang guides you to a door at the end of the hall, one you hadn’t noticed before. He pauses for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at you before reaching out to turn the handle. The door swings open with a soft click, revealing a cozy bedroom bathed in the warm light of a bedside lamp.

His bedroom. The thought flutters in your mind, sending a fresh wave of excitement coursing through you. Yangyang steps inside first, pulling you in after him. The door closes softly behind you, sealing the space as your own private world.

The room is simple but inviting, with a large bed taking up most of the space. A pile of pillows rests against the headboard, and a few books are scattered haphazardly on the nightstand. A faint scent of cedar lingers in the air, mingling with the familiar smell of laundry detergent that seems to follow Yangyang everywhere.

He turns to face you, his eyes dark with intent. “I wanted to bring you somewhere… quieter,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Somewhere we could be alone.”

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, the rhythm accelerating as his words sink in. Alone. The word carries a weight that’s both thrilling and terrifying. You glance around the room, taking in the details—the softness of the carpet underfoot, the warmth of thelighting, the way the shadows seem to dance along the walls. It’s intimate, cocooning, and somehow perfectly fitting for what you know is about to happen.

Yangyang steps closer, his hands settling on your waist again. This time, there’s no hesitation in his touch—just confidence, laced with a tenderness that makes your knees weak. He leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “Just let me take care of you.”

The request hangs in the air, a silent promise that sends a jolt of electricity through your veins. You nod again, unable to find the words to respond. Yangyang smiles, a slow, knowing grin that makes your stomach flutter.

With one hand still resting on your waist, he reaches up with the other, sliding his fingers through the loose strands of your hair. The gesture is gentle, almost reverent, as if he’s savoring the texture and weight of it. You close your eyes, tilting your head slightly to give him better access, and feel a soft hum of pleasure ripple through you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve wanted to tell you that since the first day I saw you.”

The confession catches you off guard, sending a rush of warmth flooding through your chest. You open your eyes, meeting his gaze, and see nothing but honesty reflected there. It’s overwhelming, the depth of feeling in his expression, and it leaves you momentarily speechless.

Before you can respond, Yangyang shifts his grip, guiding you toward the bed. His movements are deliberate, each step calculated to draw you further into the moment. When you reach the edge of the mattress, he stops, his hands sliding from your waist to rest on your hips.

“Sit,” he commands softly, his voice a velvety rasp that sends shivers dancing down your spine.

You obey without hesitation, lowering yourself onto the plush comforter. The fabric is soft beneath you, and the faint scent of linen fills your nostrils, adding another layer of sensory overload to the mix. As you settle in, Yangyang kneels beside the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

For a moment, there’s silence—a charged, electric kind of stillness that seems to hold the weight of everything unsaid between you. Then, slowly, deliberately, Yangyang reaches out, his fingers brushing against the buttons of your shirt.

“May I?” he asks, his voice a teasing half-whisper.

You nod again, your throat too tight to speak. Yangyang grins, his eyes gleaming with mischief, and begins working on the buttons with expert precision. Each pop of the closure seems to echo in the quiet room, a symphony of anticipation that heightens the tension between you.

When the last button slides free, he tugs the fabric apart, revealing the thin layer of lace beneath. Your breath hitches as his eyes flick downward, briefly scanning the sight before returning to your face. “So pretty,” he murmurs, his tone a mix of awe and desire.

Without warning, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the hollow of your throat. The sensation is fleeting but insistent, a tease that leaves you yearning for more. You instinctively tilt your head back, giving him better access, and feel a surge of satisfaction when he obliges by trailing kisses along your collarbone.

“Yangyang...” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling with a combination of need and uncertainty.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his lips curved into a wicked smile. “Shh,” he says gently. “Just let me love you.”

And with that, he resumes his exploration, his hands and mouth working in tandem to unravel every thread of resistance within you.

Yangyang’s hands move with an almost reverent grace as he undresses you, his touch light but deliberate. Each piece of clothing he removes feels like a revelation, not just to him but to you as well. You feel suddenly exposed, yet entirely safe in his presence.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and gravelly with emotion. His fingers brush against the edge of your bra, hesitating for a moment before carefully unclasping it. The fabric slips away, revealing you to his gaze, and you catch a flicker of awe in his dark eyes.

“You don’t have to say that,” you whisper, your cheeks heating under his intense scrutiny.

Yangyang shakes his head, his smile soft and genuine. “I know what I see,” he says simply. His hands cup your shoulders, thumbs brushing lightly over your collarbones, and you shiver at the tenderness of his touch. “And what I feel… it’s overwhelming.”

He leans in then, his lips finding the sensitive skin just below your ear. A sound escapes you, half-laugh, half-groan, as his teeth graze the lobe gently. His hand trails down your arm, fingertips leaving a trail of fire in their wake before wrapping around your wrist. He guides your hand to his chest, pressing your palm flat against the rapid thudding of his heart.

“Feel that?” he asks, his voice thick with desire. “That’s all you.”

You nod, unable to speak, your own heart pounding in response. Yangyang’s free hand snakes around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The solid warmth of his body against yours is intoxicating, and you cling to him instinctively.

His lips find yours again, this time with a hunger that leaves no room for hesitation. The kiss is deep, consuming, every stroke of his tongue igniting a blaze within you. His hand slides lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, and you gasp into his mouth as his fingers tease the soft curve of your hipbone.

“Yangyang,” you breathe, clutching at his shoulders for balance.

“Tell me what you want,” he rasps, his breath hot against your cheek. His fingers dip lower, brushing against the wetness between your legs, and you clench your thighs together, both resisting and inviting his touch.

“I—” Your voice falters, uncertain, as his fingers ghost over your most sensitive spot. You arch into the sensation, your hips tilting involuntarily.

Yangyang chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your body. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his tone reassuring. “Take your time. We have all night.”

His words send a shudder through you, a mix of relief and anticipation. You relax slightly, letting go of some of the tension that had been coiled tightly within you. Yangyang takes advantage of your momentary surrender, his fingers sliding back between your legs, this time with purpose.

The first tentative touch makes you jerk, a sharp intake of breath escaping your lips. Yangyang holds still, watching you intently, his expression a blend of concern and arousal. “Too much?” he asks, clearly trying to read your reaction.

You shake your head quickly, your cheeks burning. “No,” you manage to whisper. “Just… unexpected.”

A slow grin spreads across his face, and he resumes his exploration, his fingers tracing delicate patterns against your folds. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, your body responding eagerly to his ministrations.

“So responsive,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with admiration. “You’re incredible.”

His fingers press harder, delving deeper, and you gasp, your back arching off the bed. Yangyang shifts his position slightly, angling his fingers to hit that perfect spot inside you, and you feel yourself spiraling closer to the edge.

“Yangyang,” you choke out, your voice trembling with need. “Please…”

“Please what?” he teases, his voice low and husky. His free hand cups your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple in rhythm with his finger movements.

You whimper, torn between the dueling sensations of his touch. “I… I don’t know,” you admit, frustrated by your inability to articulate the raging storm within you.

Yangyang chuckles again, the sound dark and intimate. “That’s okay,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss you deeply. His fingers quicken their pace, stroking in and out of you with increasing urgency. “Let yourself go. Let me take care of you.”

The combination of his words and actions is too much, and you feel the wave building inside you, cresting higher and higher with every thrust of his fingers. Your breath comes in shallow pants, your body tensing as you approach the precipice.

“Yangyang, I—”

He doesn’t let you finish. Instead, he presses a hard kiss to your lips, swallowing your cry of release as you come apart in his arms. Your body shudders, waves of pleasure rolling through you, leaving you boneless and gasping for air.

Yangyang pulls his fingers from you slowly, watching your face with rapt attention. His eyes are dark, filled with a mixture of awe and possessiveness. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, his voice raw with emotion. “You’re amazing.”

You blink up at him, still dazed from the intensity of your orgasm. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you manage to joke weakly.

Yangyang laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “Oh, we’re just getting started,” he says, his voice dropping to a teasing purr.

Yangyang’s hands trail down your body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His touch is deliberate, almost reverent, as if he’s memorizing every curve and dip of you. When his fingers brush against the side of your thigh, you shiver, the sensation sending a spark of electricity through your veins.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. His eyes never leave yours, their intensity making your breath hitch. “I want to see you touch me.”

His words send a jolt of arousal through you, but there’s also a flicker of uncertainty. You’ve never been this intimate with anyone before, not like this. The thought of exploring his body feels thrilling and terrifying all at once. But when he guides your hand to his chest, the moment becomes too electric to resist.

Your fingers curl around the soft fabric of his hoodie, hesitating for just a second before you tug it up and over his head. The movement exposes the warm skin beneath, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You can feel the heat radiating from him, the thrum of his heartbeat underneath your palm. It’s intoxicating.

“Go on,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. “Touch me.”

You do. Your fingertips trace the ridges of his collarbone, the muscles of his shoulders, the faint dusting of hair that trails down his sternum. Each touch sends a shiver through him, his breath hitching as your exploration grows bolder. When your hand skims lower, brushing against the waistband of his jeans, he groans, the sound raw and needy.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice breaking. “Don’t stop.”

His reaction emboldens you, fueling the fire that’s already burning between you. You let your fingers dip beneath the hem of his shirt, sliding along the taut planes of his abdomen. His skin is warm and smooth, the muscles beneath tense with anticipation. You can feel the way his body responds to your touch, the way he shifts closer, his breath fanning across your cheek.

“So good,” he rasps, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

His praise sends a thrill of pleasure through you, your confidence growing with each passing second. You slide your hand higher, brushing against the edge of his nipple, feeling it pebble beneath your touch. He gasps, arching into your hand as a low moan escapes his lips.

“Turn around,” he says suddenly, his voice commanding yet laced with urgency. “I want to touch you.”

You obey without hesitation, turning to face the bed and leaning forward slightly. The position puts you on display, your back arched and your ass lifted slightly. Yangyang’s breath hitches as he takes in the view, his gaze darkening with hunger.

“Jesus,” he mutters, his hands coming to rest on your hips. “You’re perfect.”

He strokes your sides, his fingers trailing up to your ribcage before dipping lower, pushing the material of your dress aside to expose the lace of your panties. The sight of them makes his grip tighten, his fingers pressing into your skin as he pulls them down slowly, revealing the curve of your ass and the delicate skin beneath.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he breathes, his voice rough with need. “I want to taste you.”

Before you can respond, he drops to his knees behind you, his hands cupping your ass as he presses a series of light kisses along the crease of your thigh. The sensation is electrifying, sending shivers of anticipation rippling through you. You can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, the promise of what’s to come making your core throb with need.

When his tongue finally makes contact, you cry out, your hands clutching the sheets as waves of pleasure crash over you. He licks a slow, deliberate path up your folds, his tongue darting inside you with relentless precision. The sensation is overwhelming, your body trembling as he works you with expert skill.

“Yangyang,” you gasp, your voice breaking as he grazes his teeth along your clit. “Please—”

He doesn’t let you finish. Instead, he bites down gently, the sharp sting followed by a rush of warmth that sends you spiraling. Your thighs tremble, your body tightening as he continues to stroke and tease, his tongue flicking faster and harder until you can’t take it anymore.

“I’m close,” you manage to whisper, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, his hands gripping your hips as he redoubles his efforts. The sudden surge of pressure builds rapidly, your body tensing as you teeter on the edge. And then, with one final thrust of his tongue, you shatter, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of pure bliss.

Your legs give out, but Yangyang catches you, guiding you gently to the bed. You collapse onto your back, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. He climbs onto the bed, hovering over you with a predatory smile.

“That was incredible,” he murmurs, his voice filled with admiration. “But we’re not done yet.”

He leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he positions himself between your legs. You can feel the thick ridge of his cock pressing against your entrance, the heat of him making you ache with need.

“Are you ready?” he asks, his voice low and strained.

You nod, unable to form words as your desire consumes you. With one swift movement, he pushes inside you, filling you completely. The sensation is intense, your bodies perfectly aligned as he begins to move.

Yangyang’s breath hitches as he slides into you, the heat of his body pressing against yours. You feel every inch of him, thick and demanding, filling you completely. His hips move with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. His lips find yours again, kissing you deeply as he sets a steady pace, drawing out the moment.

“You feel so good,” he whispers against your lips, his voice low and trembling. “So tight… so perfect.”

His hands grip your hips, holding you firmly as he continues to thrust into you. You can feel the way he’s holding back, wanting to savor this moment, but the strain in his voice tells you just how much he wants to let go. Your own desire is building, spiraling higher with every movement of his hips. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him on, desperate for more.

Just as the tension between you reaches its peak, a loud POP echoes through the apartment, followed by the sudden absence of light. The room plunges into darkness, the only sound now the heavy breathing of the two of you.

“What… what was that?” you ask, your voice shaky and breathless.

“Power outage,” Yangyang replies, his tone amused but still strained. “Looks like we’ve got the place to ourselves for a while.”

The darkness seems to heighten everything. Without the distraction of sight, your other senses become sharper. You can feel the warmth of Yangyang’s body pressed against yours, the weight of him grounding you. His breath tickles your neck as he kisses your collarbone, his movements growing more insistent as the adrenaline of the unexpected outage pushes him closer to the edge.

“Let’s not waste it,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with desire. He shifts slightly, adjusting his angle, and you gasp as a new wave of sensation hits you. His thrusts become deeper, harder, each one bringing you closer to the edge.

“Yangyang…” you moan, clutching at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands, his voice rough with need. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

“I want you… I need you,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Don’t stop.”

He growls in response, his hips snapping forward with renewed urgency. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the silence, mingling with your ragged breaths. You feel yourself teetering on the brink, the pressure building inside you with every thrust. Yangyang’s hand moves between your thighs, his fingers finding your clit and stroking it with expert precision.

“Almost there,” he promises, his voice a harsh whisper. “Come for me. Let go.”

The darkness feels like a cocoon, wrapping around you both as you fall apart. Your body shudders, your muscles tightening around him as you reach your climax. Yangyang follows soon after, his movements becoming erratic as he buries himself deep inside you, letting out a deep groan as he spills inside you.

For a moment, all you can do is cling to each other, the weight of your bodies the only anchor you have in the dark. Yangyang rests his forehead against yours, his breathing slowly returning to normal.

“That was…” he starts, but trails off, his voice soft and vulnerable.

“Perfect,” you finish for him, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckles softly, kissing your forehead before pulling out of you and lying down beside you. You roll onto your side, facing him in the dark, your fingers tracing the contours of his face.

“What now?” you ask, your voice curious.

“Now…” he pauses, his hand reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now we wait. See how long this lasts.”

The thought sends a shiver of excitement down your spine. There’s something thrilling about the uncertainty, about being forced to slow down and enjoy the moment. You nestle closer to Yangyang, feeling his arm wrap around your waist as you rest your head on his chest.

“I could get used to this,” you murmur, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

Yangyang’s chest rises and falls with a soft chuckle, his voice warm against your ear. “I could too,” he admits, his tone laced with contentment. “There’s something about the dark that makes everything feel… simpler. No distractions, just us.”

You smile into the darkness, feeling the weight of his words settle between you. His fingers trace lazy circles on your back, the gentle rhythm soothing yet electrifying all at once. The power outage has stripped away the usual comforts of light and sound, leaving only the raw connection between you two. It’s intimate in a way you hadn’t anticipated, but now that it’s here, you realize how much you crave it.

“Do you think we’ll be stuck like this for long?” you ask, your voice soft as you nuzzle closer to him.

“Who knows?” he replies, his lips brushing against your temple. “Maybe it’s a sign. A chance to slow down, to really feel each other without anything else getting in the way.”

His words send a flutter through your chest. You can hear the sincerity in his voice, the way he’s embracing the moment rather than letting it frustrate him. It’s one of the things you love most about him—his ability to find beauty in the unexpected.

“You’re right,” you murmur, tilting your head to press a kiss to his collarbone. “This is kind of nice. Just… being together like this.”

Yangyang hums in agreement, his arm tightening around you. “Yeah,” he says after a pause, his voice low and thoughtful. “It’s perfect.”

The silence stretches between you, broken only by the occasional rustle of sheets or the soft whisper of his breath. You trace the lines of his chest with your fingertips, marveling at how familiar yet endlessly fascinating his body feels. Each curve and plane feels like home, like something you never knew you needed until now.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks suddenly, his voice curious.

“I was thinking about how glad I am that you were there to bail me out of that bad date,” you admit, your voice soft but laced with gratitude. “If it wasn’t for you… I don’t even want to imagine how that night would’ve ended.”

Yangyang chuckles, the sound warm and comforting against your ear. “Well, I couldn’t let you suffer through that alone, could I?” he teases, his fingers brushing lightly over your shoulder. “Besides, I think we both know how much better this turned out.”

You smile, feeling a blush creep into your cheeks despite the darkness. “Yeah,” you agree, tilting your head to press a kiss to his chest. “This was definitely better. So much better.”

He hums in agreement, his hand moving to cup the back of your head gently. “I’m just glad I could be there for you,” he says, his tone sincere. “You deserve someone who makes you feel as amazing as you make me feel.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you tighten your hold on him, nuzzling closer. “You do,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “You really do.”

The silence between you is comfortable, filled with unspoken words and lingering touches. You trace the lines of his chest again, your fingers pausing over the faint scar near his ribs. It’s a mark you’ve grown familiar with, one that tells a story of its own.

“Do you ever think about how different things might’ve been?” you ask suddenly, your voice tinged with curiosity. “If you hadn’t shown up when you did.”

Yangyang pauses, his hand stilling on your back. “Honestly?” he says after a moment, his voice thoughtful. “I try not to think about it. Because the way things are now… this… it’s exactly where I want to be. With you.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. “Me too,” you murmur, pressing another kiss to his skin. “Me too.”

The power outage may have thrown you into darkness, but in that moment, you realize it’s brought you closer to something infinitely brighter. The moonlight and the stars seem to be flittering brighter above you and you decide, maybe, for tonight you won't wait for the lights to come back on.

Because this is perfect as it is.

#kvanity #ksmutsociety #nct #wayv #nct scenarios #nct stories #nct fanfics #nct imagines #nct smut #wayv smut #wayv stories #wayv fanfic #wayv yangyang #yangyang #liu yangyang #yangyang x reader #yangyang smut

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eden-writes-stuff · 1 day ago

Text

Tags: NSFW, Smut, 18+ wolfstar, handjobs, shower sex, masturbation, 'it's complicated' state of wolfstar, porn without plot, sex with feelings, bits of angst if you squint

"Remus! Fuck, please, fuck!"

Remus stopped in front of the bathroom door and bit his lip. That explained why Sirius always took so long in the shower.

"Moony! Urgh!"

Had it been any other day, Remus would have walked by. He probably wouldn't even have heard it without his heightened senses, but now, two days before the full moon... The door was unlocked.

Quietly he entered, closing and locking the door behind him.

"Moony, Moony, fuck!"

"Don't worry, love, I'm here."

There was a high-pitched shriek from behind the curtain, then a moment of silence before Sirius poked his head out of the shower.

His head was deep red and his skin wet. He looked absolutely delicious. And that look in his eyes... Remus had come to know that look over the past few weeks. Sirius wanted action, he wanted to play.

"I wasn't... This isn't...", he stuttered, but Remus simply smiled. "So you weren't thinking of me while jerking off?" "No! Maybe..." Remus chuckled, taking off his shirt and undoing his belt.

"You up for company?" Sirius nodded immediately, his eyes tracing Remus' chest. It wasn't like he had never seen him before, but he was always amazed at how beautiful his friend was.

Neither of them knew exactly what it was they were doing almost everyday in abandoned classrooms, or the empty dorm, or secret coridors - they certainly weren't dating -, but Sirius would be damed if he did anything to make it stop.

So he was glad when Remus didn't make fun of him for thinking about him even when he wasn't there.

His eyes followed Remus' every move as he dropped his trousers, then his underwear. Sirius loved his dick. It wasn't exceptionally long, but wonderfully thick and always felt amazing in his hand, or shoved down his throat.

"You're staring", Remus murmured, stepping closer and finally into the shower. It was only meant for one person, so they had no choice but to stand close to each other.

"What were you thinking about?", Remus asked in his low voice, kissing over the hickeys he left on Sirius' body two days before.

The Black heir rolled his head back, his hips leaning towards Remus. "You... Coming in here, letting me fuck your hand", Sirius answered. He always answered, always obeyed - at least in these situations. However, in this case, it wasn't the entire truth. In his fantasy, Remus had finally fucked him - properly, in his needy, rich ass. But he could hardly confess how much he wanted that to happen.

Remus wrapped his hand around both of their cocks; Sirius' already pink and seemingly ready to finish any second, his own half-hard from the sight of a needy Sirius. Slowly he started moving his hand between their bodies. "Like this?"

Sirius groaned but shook his head. "You... You were behind me. Fucking yourself on my back." Remus continued for a few seconds, before grabbing Sirius by the waist and turning him around, back pressed against his chest.

Softly he kissed his neck, letting one hand trail down to Sirius' strained dick. "Like this?" This time he nodded, letting his head fall back against Remus' shoulder.

"Beautiful. Now let me hear you, baby", he murmured, then started moving his hand around him. There was no holding back. There never was when he was with Remus. The moans were torn from his throat like a desperate prayer and Remus loved every one of them. He always sounded perfect, always greedy and thankful for even the slightest touch.

Remus started grinding against Sirius' ass cheeks and the small of his back but eventually started using the gap between his thighs. As soon as he noticed it, Sirius pressed his legs together, making Remus moan in approval, squeezing his hand tighter.

It was so close. So close to everything he wanted; needed. But for now, it had to be enough. To feel Remus between his legs, imagining what it could feel like. He turned his head slightly and started kissing the taller boy's neck, biting into the soft flesh.

Groaning, Remus quickened his movements, pulling Sirius closer by his thigh. He was always rougher around the moon, and Sirius loved it every time. The feeling of being needed, being so desperately wanted was truly overpowering, not to speak of the low grunts and curses that escaped his lips, filling Sirius' ears in the most beautiful way.

"Moony... Fuck, I'll...", he closed his eyes to focus on forming a proper sentence, but all it did was to make him more aware of the friction of Remus' hand around him. "Fu-uck! come! I'll.. come. Please Moons..."

Remus' free hand found its way into Sirius' hair, yanking his head back, so he could look in his eyes. Sirius was always beautiful, but he reached his peak when he was fucked and full of pleasure and coming all over his body.

And come he did. The second he felt the pull on his hair, he was gone, basically screaming, fucking himself into Remus' fist one last time before his body went perfectly still, gaze drifting far away as he started leaking over the other boy's fingers.

It didn't take Remus long to finish after that. Between Sirius' pretty thighs and soft skin, he made a mess, spreading his cum all over his lover's legs.

Panting he sunk against the shower wall, pulling Sirius with him, holding him close. For a while neither of them said anything. Then, Remus softly kissed his shoulder. "Let's get you cleaned up then."

A/N: I made a poll about the next chapter and, well, tumblr is horny as ever.

#marauders fanfiction #marauders #fanfic #marauders era #ao3 writer #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar smut #wolfstar nsft #remus x sirius #sirius x remus

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lsargeantsgirl · 12 hours ago

Text

Who Is Your Best Friend?

pairing: Logan Sargeant x Williams driver reader

word count: 1.9k (whew)

warning: james vowles; angst; y/n used

character sorta based off of me

“y/n, the media team needs you by the end of the day,” James (ewww) said as you left his office from a meeting.

“Okay. Bye,”

After you did the simulator a couple of times, setting your record, you went to the media room. The media intern saw you and waved you to the filming room. You sat down as she started the camera and she gave you the mini mic.

“Ok, welcome, we are going to rapid-fire questions, then edit it with Logan’s answers.”

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” you said giddily.

“You ready,” you nodded, “ok, first one, what's your name.”

“y/n l/n,”

“Number?”

“78,”

“Birthday?”

“(your birthday)” “Favorite singer,”

“Taylor Swift”

“What’s Logan’s favorite singer?”

“I don’t know”

“Favorite Taylor song,”

“Hits different,”

“Logan’s”

“You belong with me,”

“Hometown”

“(your hometown)”

“Best friend”

“Logan,” you briefly thought of how much your friendship with Logan meant to you.

“Favorite hobby”

“Arts and crafts”

“Ok that’s it,” she says, stopping the camera.

“Noice, that was fun, I like that game.”

“Thank you, see you tomorrow, bye,” she said walking out of the room with you. As you rounded the corner into the hallway, you ran directly into Logan.

“Hey, did you just do the media thing they wanted us for?”

“Yeah, it shouldn’t take you too long,” you informed him.

“Ok, nice, have a good day, see you tomorrow,” he said, smiling gently at you before walking away.

Your heart was beating out of your throat. Logan always made your thoughts go crazy. His accent always made you smile. He always, to you, more than your friend, you. You had issues with trusting people when you were a kid so when you met Logan you emotionally bonded to him. You hoped that Logan thought of you as highly as you did him.

A couple of weeks later when you were scrolling on your social medias, you saw the video of the rapid-fire questions. You watched, laughing at yourself and Logan. When the best friend question came up, your heart sank as you saw Logan answer without a beat Oscar. You thought he would be different because he was your best friend. It turns out he was just another one you thought was your friend but he didn’t reciprocate.

Later that day, your high school friend came over to your apartment. You were gossiping and catching up on life when she brought up Logan. Your mood soured; she noticed.

“What’s with that face? Are you and Logan no longer friends?” she asked hesitantly.

“No, No, we are, I think.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought he was my best friend, but he without any hesitation said Oscar. And I know he’s known Oscar for way longer than me but I feel like we’re closer than them. I don’t know what to do because if I stay acting like nothing happened then I will feel bad and sad but if I ignore him then he might feel bad,” you said fast.

“Oh ok, I thought something unforgivable happened between you two. But maybe you should just talk to him,” you shot her a glare, “or let him bring it up when you ignore him.”

“I think I’ll just try to forget and try not to get closer to him. But if he brings it up then I’ll talk about it.”

Turns out you didn’t do very well at trying to forget about it. You thought about it every single time you saw Logan. It was like a nagging guiltiness you felt when he would talk to you with his cute American accent and his radiant smile. He made you feel guilty without actually doing anything.

“Y/n, the media team wants us to make a video. I think we should go bother the people interviewing down there.”

“Ok, you can do it if you want,” you said flippantly. You were distracted by a text your friend had sent you. Logan snatched your phone from your hands and started reading the texts.

“Oooh, y/n has a crush, on whooo,” he says with a schoolboy tone. You tried taking your phone back but Logan kept holding it over his head. You were shorter than him so it wasn’t easy trying your phone back.

“Logan, give me my phone back,” you said.

“Tell me who your crush is first.”

“Logan, no.”

“Tell me.”

He kept holding your phone higher than you could reach. The only way you could get your phone back was risky and very inappropriate to do because it's what needs to be done. You ‘lowered’ your defenses. You nut-tapped him and when he bent down in reflex. When his defenses were lowered, you took back your phone and walked away.

TIME SKIP

The door to the room you were in opened, and Logan came into your driver's room after a while. “Sooo, are you gonna tell me who you were texting about,” he said after flopping onto your couch.

“No, why are you here?” you said while working on some homework because you were a college student while being an F1 driver. Yes, it was hard but you were so close to graduation.

“Media still wants that video.”

“Do you want to make a TikTok or what?” you ask.

“Ehh, I don’t know, we should post the video of you physically harassing me.” You slowly turn around and if looks could kill you would be in jail for murder.

“Logan, if you post that, I will personally push you off the track and then hit you again. I would not care if James kills me but I will kill you,” You said while Logan just sat smiling at you.

“You look if you were my type, hot mad,” Logan said, now he was lying fully across the couch with his hands behind his head. He had that grin that always made you guilty.

You stood up and walked over to Logan. You bent down to his level and your eyes bore into his. Unbeknownst to Logan, your heart rate was so high it would put anyone into a heart attack. You gripped his chin as his smile faded.

“Logan Hunter Sargeant, I will kill you if you post that even in a conversation with your bestie Oscar. If you continue to ask me who that was, I will do things you don’t want to know to you.”

Logan grabbed you and pulled you into himself, laughing. “Baby, you don’t scare me.” He had you on his chest. “Seems like I scare you.” He could feel your heart beating out of your chest.

“The only reason I would be scared of you is because of your stupidity. It takes a special kind of stupid,” you said pushing up on his chest with your knee between his legs. You moved it a bit higher so you were essentially kneeing him in the nuts. You could see when he started to be in pain. “, to think you scare me. But Americans are known to be stupid.”

You got off Logan and went back to doing your homework. You didn’t see when Logan slipped out but you felt his eyes on you before he left.

TIME SKIP

You were standing on the balcony in the paddock in Singapore. You were breathing in the fresh air. You had been overwhelmed with the end of the season. You were glad to end it but you were also sad your second season was over.

Logan joined you on the patio to tell you that the media still wanted that video. Unbeknownst to you he was already in the making of that video.

“It is so peaceful out here. It would be a shame if something disrupted the peacefulness.”

“Logan, you already ruined it by coming out here.”

“Oh, really, I thought I was helping you enjoy the view and the experience.”

“Well, you weren’t. You just made me so much anxious. Thanks for that.”

Logan pulled something out of his pocket. He messed with it for a second raised his arm and threw whatever it was. He ducked below the edge of the balcony. The people below were in the middle of an interview when the, now apparent to you, paper airplane hit them.

They all turned their heads to you. You were a deer caught in the headlights. Frozen in fear, they turned the camera towards you. You turned to Logan who was crouched down beside you and kicked him.

“Logan, you idiot. Why did you throw that at them.”

“To them, I didn’t throw it.”

You kicked him again, turned, and stormed into your driver's room. When you opened your computer you saw an email from James. The only line in the email was ‘Get into my office now.’ You knew what he was going to say. You prepared yourself for what he was going to say.

You slipped into his office. James looked up from his computer.

“Y/n, why did you throw a paper airplane at the Haas people in the interview?” he said, angered.

“I didn’t do that. If ask your favorite little American driver, he’ll say I threw it but I didn’t.”

“I’m not punishing you but if you do it again, I will,” he threatened.

“I didn’t do it in the first place but I won’t let Logan do it again.”

He nodded, dismissing you. You walked to Logan’s driver's room.

You went into his room without knocking. “Logan, I swear to God, go tell James that you threw that paper airplane at them and it wasn’t me.”

“Hello to you,”

“Logan,” you said walking closer to him, not realizing he was shirtless.

“This is the first time you have talked to me without me starting the conversation in like two months. I like it when other people start conversations with me and I don’t start it.”

“Logan, you weren’t worth my time,” you professed.

“Worth your time?”

“Have you ever had someone who you thought was your best friend say that they don’t think that you are their best friend? No, you probably haven’t because no one would want to be your friend,” you said raising your voice.

“Is that why you ignored me for all this time? I didn’t say you when they asked who my best friend was?”

“Yes, I thought you were my best friend. But obviously, you don’t think the same.”

“Yeah, you aren’t my best friend, because I don’t see you as a friend,” the color drained from your face as you lowered your head.

“Okay, never mind. Let’s forget this ever happened,” you said as your voice was shaking. Slowly turning around to leave.

He walks behind you to the door. You open the door and he reaches over your shoulder to close it. He forcibly turned you around, pushing you against the door. “I don’t see you as a friend. I see you as a woman who I hope is attracted to me as much as I am to her.”

He stares into your eyes, “what?” you ask.

“I like you, maybe even love you,” he said with adoration.

“Logan,” you said breathlessly confused, “what, you like like me?”

“Yeah, if we were in elementary school,” he cracked a smile which you reflected, “then, yeah, I like like you.”

“I like like you too,” you whispered.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah, if you say I’m your best friend.”

“You are my best friend,” He said giggly as he kissed you.

Author's Note

Thank you to everyone who liked my other posts. love you

#f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #logan sargeant #logan sargent x reader #oscar piastri

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ilovekittycats2 · 7 hours ago

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Please, please, please, I would LOVE to read a part 2 to High Maintenance!!!! It's so great and they are so sweet together!!!!! And your writing is so fantastic!!!!! Thank you for sharing it with us!!!!

omg thank you guys so much for the love on these blurbs!! they are so fun to make lol... thank you for the req anon!

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

Lingering

Jake Seresin x reader

this is a part 2 of High Maintenance

(use of y/n)

In which,

Hangman seems to linger after the close call.

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

Jake “Hangman” Seresin wasn’t the type to linger. He preferred quick victories and clean exits, leaving no room for complication or doubt. But ever since that close call—the one where his F/A-18 limped back to base on sheer skill and sheer luck—lingering seemed to be his new pastime.

It started innocently enough. He spent more time in the hangar, leaning against workbenches and “supervising” as you poured over engine diagnostics and maintenance logs. At first, you assumed it was part of his usual act—a chance to annoy you or crack a few smug jokes at your expense. But the jokes were softer now, and the sharp edge to his cockiness seemed dulled.

“You know,” he said one afternoon, watching you disassemble a faulty compressor, “I’ve never seen anyone care about these jets the way you do.” You snorted, not looking up. “Because I have to fix them when you break them.”

Jake didn’t take the bait, which was unusual. Instead, he stayed quiet for a beat too long, his gaze steady. When you glanced at him, his expression wasn’t his usual smirk—it was something softer, something almost vulnerable.

Moments like that kept piling up, until it became impossible to ignore the shift between you. The banter was still there, but the sting had faded. In its place was something warmer, more cautious, as if both of you were testing the waters of this unfamiliar dynamic.

The rest of the squadron noticed the change before you were ready to admit it yourself. Fred, one of the older mechanics, caught on first. One morning, Jake brought you coffee—a gesture so out of character it felt like the world had tilted on its axis. Fred raised an eyebrow as Jake set the cup on your workbench with a casual, “Thought you could use this.” Jake's eyes lingered on your own for a moment too long. The tension between the two of you was palpable. You dipped your head towards Jake and flashed him a small smile. Jake turned to leave. “Didn’t know pilots were running coffee deliveries now,” Fred teased once Jake had sauntered off.

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks betrayed you, flushing under the scrutiny. “He’s just trying to make sure I don’t sabotage his jet,” you said, more to convince yourself than Fred. But Fred wasn’t the only one who noticed. The other pilots started making comments too, especially after Jake began volunteering to test flights for the jets you worked on. “Looks like Seresin’s got himself a favorite mechanic,” one of them joked after Jake had gone out of his way to defend you in a briefing.

“Guess he knows quality work when he sees it,” you shot back, refusing to rise to the bait. But inside, you couldn’t shake the warmth that lingered whenever Jake’s loyalty came into question—and he always answered without hesitation.

It wasn’t just his presence that changed. Jake, the squadron’s golden boy, was no longer the untouchable, unflappable pilot everyone thought they knew. One night, long after everyone else had left, he found you still working in the hangar. You barely registered his arrival until he set a container of food on the workbench.

“You’ve been here for hours,” he said simply, pulling up a stool. “And yet, the work isn’t done,” you replied without looking up. “Take a break, sweetheart,” he said, but the nickname lacked its usual bite. You sighed, finally putting down your tools. “Why are you still here, Jake?” He hesitated, his usual confidence faltering. “Didn’t feel right leaving.”

Something in his tone made you look at him more closely. He wasn’t smirking. His shoulders were tense, his eyes uncharacteristically serious. “What’s really going on?” you asked, softening.

Jake exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I haven’t slept much since... that day,” he admitted. “I keep thinking about what could’ve happened. What I could’ve lost.”

The words hung between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the hangar lights. “You’re not the only one who’s lost sleep,” you admitted, surprising even yourself. Jake’s gaze snapped to yours, his usual bravado replaced by something raw and unguarded. “I trust you,” he said quietly, his voice steady despite the vulnerability in his eyes. “With my life. And I don’t take that lightly.”

Your heart stuttered at the sincerity in his tone. “I’m just doing my job,” you replied, but the words felt hollow even as you said them. Jake leaned forward, closing the distance between you just enough to make your pulse race. “It’s more than that,” he said. “You know it is.”

The weight of Jake’s words stayed with you, echoing in your mind even after the hangar fell silent. The hum of the lights, the smell of grease, the faint clatter of tools—it was all familiar, grounding. But nothing could steady the way your chest tightened when you thought of him.

Jake Seresin wasn’t supposed to be this complicated. He was a pilot, the kind that walked into a room with swagger and left it with everyone’s attention. He was insufferable, arrogant, too charming for his own good. And yet, the Jake who lingered in the shadows of the hangar, who brought coffee and stayed late, who admitted to fear and trust in the same breath—that Jake was unraveling everything you thought you knew.

In the days that followed, his presence became a constant. If you were working on a jet, Jake wasn’t far behind. He didn’t make excuses anymore. When you asked why he was there, he’d shrug and say, “Just keeping an eye on my girl,” though you weren’t sure if he meant the jet or you.

One afternoon, as you were tightening bolts on a stabilizer, Jake leaned against the fuselage, watching you with a thoughtful expression. “You ever think about flying?” he asked suddenly.

The question caught you off guard. “What?” Your eyes met his.“Flying,” he repeated. “Getting up there. Seeing what it’s like.” You hesitated, wiping your hands on a grease-streaked rag. “I’ve thought about it,” you admitted, the words coming slower than you expected. “But fixing these birds makes sense to me. Flying them... I don’t know. It feels like a different world.”

Jake tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’d be good at it,” he said, his voice softer than usual. The compliment shouldn’t have meant so much, but it did. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you turned back to your work, trying to ignore the way his words made your chest ache.

“What about you?” you asked, trying to shift the focus. “Why’d you start flying?” Jake was quiet for a moment, his usual bravado giving way to something deeper. “Because it’s the one place I feel like I’m in control,” he said finally. “Up there, it’s just me and the jet. No one to answer to, no expectations. Just... freedom.”

The honesty in his voice took you by surprise. You paused, glancing at him. For the first time, Jake didn’t look like the cocky pilot who never missed an opportunity to drive you crazy. He looked human—vulnerable in a way that made your heart twist.

“Well,” you said, breaking the moment before it could grow too heavy, “if you’re so free up there, maybe stop breaking your jet so I can get a break down here.” Jake laughed, the sound lighter than you’d heard in weeks. “Fair enough,” he said, the smirk tugging at his lips again. But this time, it wasn’t mocking or arrogant. It was warm, genuine—like he was letting you in on some private joke.

The lines between you and Jake were blurring in ways you weren’t sure you could handle. Every moment spent together felt like stepping closer to an edge, the tension between you building like the charge before a storm. And yet, for the first time, you weren’t sure if you wanted to pull back. Because the Jake Seresin standing in front of you wasn’t the insufferable pilot you’d known. He was something else entirely.

And maybe—just maybe—you wanted to find out what that meant.

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

once again thank you for the love!! i cant tell if i like this blurb or not but lmk! send reqs love u

#jake hangman fic #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake headcanons #hangman seresin x reader #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #top gun hangman #hangman x reader

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peachhcs · 10 hours ago

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macklin definitely invited the to the next game and he plays so well everyone’s like why is mack playing so hard ….. they don’t find out for a while. mack rushed out after the game to find her and no one saw them together

this is kind of short i’m sorry 😵‍💫 but i think it’s so funny mack would just disappear after games and the guys would be so confused

au masterlist

macklin flew across the ice after the puck. the fans in the sap center were on their feet cheering the rookie on as he fought his stick through the guys of the detroit red wings. the younger player was on fire tonight, making two goals already in the first period. not that anyone was complaining, but they wondered what the boy drank or ate earlier to make him play like he was.

"what's up with him?" eklund leaned over to where will was on the bench.

"what do you mean?" will wondered, eyes on the game waiting to get called in.

"i'm not complaining, but celly has been going ham tonight," eklund chuckled and bordeleau heard the two talking, popping himself into the conversation.

"dude, he's been on fire. what'd he drink earlier?" the older player laughed and will didn't have an answer for them nor did he really see a huge difference in his friend's performance. he was just playing like he usually did.

"i have no idea. he's always this good?" will raised his eyebrow.

"i mean yeah, but if i didn't know any better, it feels like there's someone special watching him tonight," thomas smirked and then the older guys dropped the conversation before will could respond.

he became puzzled for a second, thinking back to a few weeks ago when macklin was constantly hiding his phone from him. he was still doing that, but will just sort of let it go knowing mack would never tell him. after hearing eklund and bordeleau talk about it though, will started wondering if what they were saying could have any truth behind it. the blonde glanced behind him for a quick second like he'd see someone in the stands that wound just stand out to him but with the hundreds of fans in the arena, they all looked the same to him. no one was standing out.

unbeknownst to will, blaire was seated four rows up from the bench. she had on a simple sharks t-shirt mack gave to her for the night. she was focused on the game that she didn't see will look back in her direction briefly. she was impressed with mack's two goals so far, a wide grin on her features. he had definitely grown a lot since they were in chicago and shattuck.

the brunette skated across the ice towards the goal, missing it by just an inch when he passed to his teammate. the fans cheered nonetheless, the whole arena buzzing with excitement. blaire had never been to a hockey game as loud as this one, but she was happy seeing all of these fans cheer her rookie on.

mack's gaze would occasionally glance towards the stands where blaire was. a smile always found its way to his lips seeing her cheering him on like old times. he also made sure she wouldn't be sitting next to any weirdos that would pester her and the boy still looked up there to make sure she was doing alright. she was content in her seat next to a mom and her kids and two teenage girls on her other side. mack badly wanted to give her a shirt with his name across the back but they hadn't even gotten that far yet, so he had to live with just a plain sharks shirt.

when the game finished mack met blaire around the back where no fans would see them or any of his teammates. the girl quickly smiled when he came out in his suit and freshly showered.

"you played so well!" she beamed and the boy smiled.

"thank you. thanks for coming too," they exchanged a quick hug.

"that was probably the most fun i've ever had a hockey game. i didn't realize how exciting it got in the arena. you'll have to bring me along again sometime," mack thought her smile was to die for.

"i'm glad you had so much fun. do you wanna grab something to eat before i drop you off back at your dorm?" the brunette wondered mainly because he didn't want the night to be over just yet. blaire flushed, "yeah, i'd like that."

mack grinned and then quickly led then out of the arena before getting caught. by the time will and the rest of the players made it out, the brunette was long gone.

"where'd our star of the night go?" toffoli looked around when the younger brunette was no where to be seen.

"who knows. maybe he found some fan to hookup with," bordeleau joked.

"ha! i wouldn't put that past him," eklund chuckled too and will just rolled his eyes. he'd definitely know if mack was hooking up with some fan because mack was bad at keeping secrets and was always telling will about something he learned during the day.

"thanks for that, bordeleau. we'll catch up with him tomorrow at practice," tyler determined and the others agreed. everyone was pretty tired and wanted to head home knowing they had morning skate tomorrow.

no one would figure out where mack would disappear to after games until a lot of months later.

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zhelin-thames · 12 hours ago

Text

Untouchable Chaos: The Jason Todd Chronicles

prompt idea

@silverblueglitter

It was a regular day in the Batcave, which, for anyone who knew Gotham’s most infamous family, meant utter chaos was just a second away. Bruce sat at the large table, sipping his coffee like a man in desperate need of peace. He'd already survived more than enough crises today — a string of robberies, some new crime syndicate in town, and, of course, Jason's latest antics. But as the latest drama unfolded, Bruce couldn't help but wonder if today was the day he’d finally snap.

"We need to talk," Bruce said, voice heavy with exhaustion.

Jason, who was currently spinning around in a chair like an over-caffeinated toddler, stopped his antics and flashed a grin that could only be described as mischievous. "Why? What do you mean?" he asked, playing innocent. If it were anyone else, they’d have seen through the act, but after years of dealing with Jason, everyone knew better than to fall for that.

Damian stood up from the table, slamming his palms down with the intensity of a kid who had just lost his favorite toy. "That! That is what we are concerned about! Your crimes must be answered to!"

Jason tilted his head, blinking exaggeratedly as though he was the picture of innocence. "Crimes?" he asked, fluttering his eyelashes. "What crimes? I’ve done no such thing."

Dick, who had long since abandoned the idea of maintaining his cool around Jason, leaned forward with a dry smirk. "Little wing," he started wryly, "you terrorized the mayor by stalking him for days, pranked the GCPD seven times, let the animals go at the zoo twice, stole priceless treasures to bribe government officials, robbed three banks to fund an assassination plot on the president, shot five billionaires, beat up four other CEOs, and oh, yeah — set Wayne Enterprises on fire to declare your love for Jazz. Pretty sure those are crimes."

Jason beamed at him, a glint in his eye. "No, they’re not. Not anymore. Thanks to the GIW and the Anti-Ecto Act, I’m not a sapient being anymore. I can’t be held accountable for my actions. In fact, no one can arrest me but the GIW. So until they catch me, I’m untouchable."

Tim, who had been silently simmering in his chair, muttered under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like, "I should’ve just reported his ass to the government."

Stephanie, ever the voice of reason (when she wasn’t laughing at Jason’s latest disaster), nudged him hard. Tim groaned in response and rubbed his shoulder, then stood up, glaring at Jason. "Jason!" he snapped, "It’s still not an excuse for you to jeopardize our work just to flirt with Jazz and overthrow the government!"

Jason’s grin only widened. He was enjoying this far too much.

"What’re you gonna do? Arrest me?" he taunted, cocking his head to the side with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Before anyone could respond, Damian and Tim lunged at him, and suddenly the Batfamily was engaged in an impromptu brawl in the middle of the Batcave. Bruce, meanwhile, clutched his coffee mug like it was the only thing keeping him from losing his mind entirely. He was pretty sure they were all laughing at him. At him, the patriarch of the family, the one who was supposed to keep things in order.

The fight only grew more ridiculous as time passed. Jason ducked under Damian’s wild swing, using the boy’s own momentum to launch him into Tim, who stumbled into Stephanie. Meanwhile, Dick, who had long ago realized it wasn’t worth fighting Jason's chaos, sat back and watched it all unfold, shaking his head with a wry grin.

Damian growled and attempted to pin Jason down, but the older man slipped out of his hold like a greased pig, laughing the whole time. "Oh, come on, little bat, I’m just having some fun!"

"Fun?!" Damian hissed. "You’re a menace!"

"Yeah," Jason said cheerfully, bouncing back to his feet, "and you love it."

Finally, Bruce, at his absolute limit, slammed his mug down and rose to his feet with all the authority he could muster. "Jason!" he barked, "Get back here."

Jason paused in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. "What now, Bruce? You want me to remind you about the rules again?" His voice was sweet as syrup. "I’m untouchable. Not even you can make me stay in Gotham right now."

Damian, still seething, jumped up and rushed toward him, only to be intercepted by Jason who effortlessly dodged the attack. "You’re impossible!" Damian shouted, pulling his hair out in frustration.

Jason just grinned. "And you love it, little bat. Admit it."

Bruce massaged his temples, his patience wearing thin. "I’m about to turn this place into a crime scene just to get rid of you."

Jason smirked and strutted out of the room. "Can’t touch me, Bruce. I’m above the law now." He called over his shoulder with a mocking wave, "Catch you later, guys! And remember, chaos is the spice of life!"

Jazz, who had just entered the room, watched the whole scene unfold, looking from one exhausted face to another. "So... I assume Jason’s breaking more laws again?"

Bruce collapsed back into his chair, his hands still covering his face in disbelief. "At this point, he is the law."

Jazz crossed her arms, shaking her head but with a faint smile on her lips. "Well, we’d better get used to it. He’s going to keep doing this, and we’re all stuck cleaning up his mess."

Tim groaned, muttering darkly, "I should have reported him to the GIW when I had the chance."

Damian crossed his arms with a huff. "You all are weak."

Dick chuckled, finally leaning back. "No, Damian, we’re just really tired."

As the rest of the family sighed and rubbed their temples, Bruce shot them all a tired look. "Surviving Jason is not the same thing as thriving."

Jazz raised an eyebrow, glancing over at the door Jason had just disappeared through. "I think you’re giving up too soon. Life’s never boring with him around."

Bruce’s tired chuckle was the only response. At least for today, it seemed, the Batfamily’s most chaotic member was out of the room — but only for a moment.

Tomorrow, who knew what mess Jason would create next?

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the-eclectic-wonderer · 18 days ago

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1, 9 and 14 for the end of the year ask game! <3

Thank you, friend!! <3 Let's see...

1. Song of the year?

Ohh boy. Starting off with a hard one, are we?

This has been a very joyous and fulfilling year for me, musically speaking. I've discovered lots of new instant loves, re-discovered amazing artists I hadn't listened to in a while, saw some of my favourite artists live -- it's been great! And choosing just one song is quite the difficult task, ha.

As runner-ups, I'd like to mention the incredible Pink Pony Club from Chappell Roan's iconic The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess album, because she's been my favourite discovery this year (and this specific song has accompanied me on many a singing-crying session in my car); Beyoncé's II HANDS II HEAVEN because I have spent an inordinate amount of time in the company of her COWBOY CARTER album; finally, Hozier's From Eden because I am still not over the fact that he sang it live when I went to see his show folks he SANG it LIVE in FRONT of ME OH MY GOD --

This being said... I think the title of 'song of the year' for me has to go to Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Tears For Fears. I rediscovered it at the beginning of the year, when it became the core of the soundtrack for a project of mine, and it's been a loyal companion through all these months.

(I promise I will be less verbose in my other answers :') )

9. Best month for you this year?

This is a very good question! I'm not sure. One of the spring months, for certain (by which I mean one among March, April, May, and June); that's always when I'm happier. I think possibly May? I took a lovely seaside vacation in May, went on a lot of sun-lit walks while the temperatures were still humane, saw a couple of fun movies, spent time with my friends, and lots of other fun things. It was nice!

14. Favorite book you read this year?

Yet another hard one! I've read quite a lot of amazing books this year. I really loved the latest one (so far), Circe by Madeline Miller, a retelling of the myth of Circe the enchantress, of Greek mythology fame. However, I think the one that had the strongest impact on me was Piranesi, by Susanna Clarke -- it drew me in from page 1, to the point where I couldn't put it down, and I'm still reeling from it months later.

[End of the Year asks]

#thank you so much for these!! they were so much fun to answer!!!#what can i say. 'everybody wants to rule the world' just has impeccable vibes #it's the perfect song for a roadtrip (wink wink nudge nudge)#in the sense that i can picture myself driving on an empty freeway on my shabby truck when i listen to it yk?#i think march and april were very close to being my best months this year too!! i just love the spring sm #i always feel reborn when march rolls around #*loved* circe. i've always been a big fan of circe the greek minor goddess to be frank #loved her whole *turning men into pigs* bit #but this book really made me appreciate her in another lens it was such a good read #piranesi takes the cake though. it took my breath away #couldn't stop reading couldn't stop crying in the last few chapters couldn't stop thinking about it afterwards #so yeah. piranesi. wow.#personal #ask game

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starry-bi-sky · 3 months ago

Text

What would a mother not do for her child What lengths would a mother not go There's a bond that exists between mother and child With no end to how strong it can grow It's a promise for life between mother and child It begins from the moment of birth.

================

She is six years old, and standing on the porch at her Auntie Alicia’s cabin. She is six years old, and holding an old rifle in her hands, standing at the railing and pointing the nozzle at a large target a couple feet away. There’s a pair of old ear muffs covering her ears. Behind her is her daddy and her sister, and Auntie Alicia. She can’t see them.

Danielle Martha Fenton is six years old, and her momma has her arms wrapped warmly around her, keeping the gun steady for her. It’s heavy and the butt digs into her shoulder uncomfortably, and she feels nothing but determined. And nervous.

Her momma was teaching her and Jazzy how to shoot, and they’re down in Arkansas to visit Auntie Alicia for her second “Divorce-iversary” as Auntie calls it. She keeps a hunting rifle in her gun safe for the rabbits that like to nibble on her garden. She mostly grows rhubarb, which goes untouched. But her carrots and greens and other veggies like to be tempting snacks for the game.

Regardless, she is six years old and learning how to shoot. Her momma and her daddy (mostly her daddy) have been banned from every shooting range outside of Amity Park in a hundred mile radius. So Auntie is the best place to learn, or so momma says.

Danny thinks it's just an excuse to see her sister, not that she's complaining. She loves visiting Auntie.

She’s already seen Jazzy do this, her momma told her before the muffs went on to shoot when ready. No use trying to fire when you’re not; you can’t afford to miss when shooting ghosts.

Danny breathes out steady, just like momma taught her, and quells her trembling little fingers. She focuses down the barrel, and pulls the trigger.

Immediately, the recoil throws her off, the side of the gun that her cheek was resting on knocks against her skin, harsh enough to bruise if it weren’t for her momma’s steady hands holding onto her. The bang of the gun startles her more than she thought it would, and her heart leaps up and runs a jackrabbit through her chest.

The gun is carefully slipped out of her hands, and Danny lets it go easily, her cheek smarting in pain and her eyes wide and following up to momma. Momma turns the safety on, and with a gentle hand, pushes against her chest. Danny takes a few steps back, and slips the ear muffs off her head.

Mommy is smiling big at her, something that Danny can’t help but replicate on her own face as her heart swells. “Did I get it, momma?” She asks, watching as she passes the gun off to Auntie Alicia, who steps over to take it.

“I’m going to go see, sweetie, but I think you did.” Momma coos, before planting both her hands on the porch railing and, in a single leap, vaults over the side and onto the grass. She’s dressed all comfortable for the summer heat, with her hair all tied back and in shorts and a tank top and nice boots. Danny’s ribs swell hopefully, and she stands on her tiptoes to watch her walk over.

“I’ll be hard-pressed to believe if you didn’t, Martha Mae,” Auntie tells her, grinning like a cat, “that was a damn good shot.”

‘Martha Mae Knight’ was Danny’s granny’s name. Auntie Alicia calls her that because of her middle name — and because, by her words, she has her momma’s weird-shaped eyebrows and piercing blue eyes. The kind that could scare a hawk into singing like a robin. It was Danny’s favorite nickname ever.

Daddy laughs brightly, the sound painful on her ears but twice as nice, and despite the distance, Momma whirls her head around to shoot Auntie a glare; “Language, Alicia. Not around my girls.” She warns. Her accent always comes through when they’re around Auntie. It’s Danny’s favorite thing to listen to.

“Do you think so, auntie?” Danny says, bright-eyed and ever-optimistic. Auntie Alicia nods fiercely as Momma finally reaches the target and searches for the bullet hole. Daddy then comes up behind her, still laughing, and claps a hand onto her shoulder so hard that it makes her knees hurt.

“Of course she did!” Dad boasts, as bright as the sun and twice as warm. He shakes Danny affectionately, wobbling her on her feet and pulling her straight into his side. She goes so willingly with a burble of giggles. “She’s got the eyes of a Fenton! And our family are darn good shots.”

Auntie eyes him up and down, her smile immediately fading off into a pressed line. “I’m sure you mean she’s got the eyes of a Knight. You couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn at twenty paces, Jack Fenton.”

Jazzy holds back giggles from where she’s standing by the door, her ear muffs in hand, and Danny watches her Daddy’s dark eyes immediately narrow. Just like Auntie’s, his smile tapers off into a frown.

Before he can say anything, there’s a cheer from the yard, and they all turn to Momma clapping her hands in delight.

Danny immediately pricks her ears up, and would’ve darn near rushed over to the railing if it weren’t for her Daddy’s hand on her shoulder. She yells instead, excitement thrumming like a hummingbird against her ribs, “Did I hit it, momma?!”

Momma beams at her with all the pride in the world, “You sure did, Danny!” And she turns to press her finger against the target, right on the inside red ring of the battered old bag. “Right here, sweet girl!”

There are cheers from all around, and Danny’s heart bursts inside her lungs with shiny, sunshine glee. She puffs her chest out big, and smiles so wide it hurts the cheek where the gun smacked her. Her Daddy shakes again, squeezing her tight against his side in a hug that Danny happily reciprocates.

“What’d I tell you, Martha Mae?” Auntie tells with a big wink and a wide grin, the gun still gripped tight in her hands as Momma makes her way back over. “You got a Knight’s eye.”

When Momma makes it back over the railing, she hugs Danny tight and praises her shot. Danny looks her in the eyes and chases the feeling, and asks to shoot again.

#danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc #cw gun #cw gun mention #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpxdc au #dp x dc au #martha knight au #female danny fenton #fem danny fenton #danny is martha wayne au #got a little something something written for this au. the dichotomy of the happy memory and the fact that she's being taught this to shoot #ghosts. the innocence of a child and the reality of the situation :]. as well as danny's steadily disillusion from her parents as she grows #fun fact! this memory is based off one of my own when my dad was teaching us how to shoot so we could (eventually) go hunting with him.#i was around danny's age i think. a little bit younger maybe. so a lot of this stuff -- like Maddie helping her hold it up and them #wearing earmuffs and Danny immediately getting the gun taken away after she shoots and danny herself backing up are all based off #what i could remember. albeit the only difference here is Alicia holding the gun and Jack and Jazz standing behind Danny. in my own memorie #iirc we were all supposed to stand inside when it wasnt our turn. but we also didnt have enough earmuffs for everyone to stand outside.#slaps danny's head like the roof of a car: you can fit SO much trauma in this kid. enjoy her joy while it lasts :]#smth smth the idea that the fenton parents weren't bad at first but instead became a steady decline once they got into building the portal #smth about how danny knows somewhere that they could improve because they were good before. but they aren't and she wonders #who they love more: their daughters. or ghosts? (the answer is their daughters but danny finds this out in a way she doesnt expect)#that beginning song lyric is from “after all” by christine ebersole btw. its danny's theme song for the au.#i thank god every day for being a daycare teacher because the word 'daddy' has been CLEANSED for mEEEEEEEEEEE

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wandixx · 3 months ago

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I'm not much for naming things but: Danny's associated with green and M'gann's a White Martian, so... Spearmint (like the green and white mint candies)? Just a thought.

Prompt: Magic removed Amity Park from the map. JL didn't notice, but in an Alderaan type moment (Star Wars ref. yay!) The martian on Watchtower monitoring duty heard the residents get silent unanimously.

Of course they need to be investigated! So M'gann gets her watch partner to take over and flies there, discovering an odd green rift of death energy doing a black hole effect and it sucks her in. Danny gets landed on/ flown into when she tumbles through the rift. She tried getting a message through to JL when she felt herself getting sucked in, but the message was not received due to ectoplasmic interference.

So Danny has to figure out how to get her AND Amity Park back home!

(Just a thought. I'm curious how you flesh it out if you do!)

This is such an interesting idea, and it definitely deserves much more story than I can write in single prompt, so this here is just a beginning and I will continue. I hope it's up to your expectations

Also, I really love the Spearmint idea

*****

M’gann understood the importance of monitor duty in Watchtower, she really did. She also understood why they were taught it while still in this gray area between fully dependent sidekicks and fully independent heroes, that was the main reason the Young Justice Team even existed.

It didn’t make it any less boring. Even when she had a decent duty partner. Don't get her wrong, Green Arrow was a much better option than Batman or Superman, it was just awkward. At least he seemed equally done with it and didn't scold her for jumping between satellite cameras just a bit too fast to actually ‘monitor’ anything.

And it was only twenty minutes into the two hour shift.

One of the sixty (or so) screens, the one directly in front of her, blinked to the view of the American Midwest. She was about to skip further, when a sudden movement caught her attention. She clicked a few keys to review the footage and asked, still unsure if her eyes weren't deceiving her.

“Did the entire city… just disappear?“

Green Arrow nodded, equally stunned.

“I'm going to check this out” she spluttered, already flying out of the room and doing her best to get Zeta to send her as close as possible. It was a bit tricky when she couldn't see the keyboard. She managed though, so before the adult hero even finished yelling that it was above her skill level, she was out.

From there, getting to the disappeared city was a piece of cake.

She stopped right in tracks when the thing came in view. M'gann had no idea how to describe it. It was a green and white and black storm but not, glass, see-through dome but not, deep space but also decidedly not. It made her want to run away but also come closer, almost like it was tugging at her. Like some pseudo, mental in nature, gravitation.

Oh, wait, no. It was an actual, physical force that after a quick test turned out to be inescapable for her.

Green Arrow, perhaps, maybe probably was kinda right. It was so high above her skill level that a balled napkin from this height would cause serious damage. Thank Batman for comms that she could use to call a backup!

The comms, that, of course, didn't work the one time she needed them.

She sent the message anyway, describing everything to the best of her ability, even though it was only a tip of the iceberg. Just in case, if the magical storm thing just made her comm one way communication only. It was highly unlikely, but who was she, if not an optimist.

She barely closed her mouth, when she was jerked sideways before the whole world became blurred.

She later would have a hard time telling anyone how it felt, to be inside the thing. She was basically powerless, thrown around randomly despite clearly keeping all of her abilities. She couldn't see, couldn't tell which way was up and down, couldn't change direction even a little bit. The rumble of the thing was so loud she couldn't hear her thoughts, throwing her brain so off the loop she forgot what her name was. She was crying probably, almost puking, her limbs hitting any and every part of her body.

At first, she didn't even realize she was out, so dazed from the ride. She didn't even see the flying boy until a while after she crashed into him, throwing them both off the sky. Neither of them caught them before they slammed into the ground. Somehow she ended up cushioning the boy's fall. M’gann couldn’t breathe for a moment. She kinda deserved it for ramming into him in the first place though.

By the time she could use her lungs and behave like a social creature again, the boy scrambled off her and just crouched, intensely staring, anxious and awestruck at the same time. She sat up and gave him once over herself.

He was around her physical age, but much skinnier than her or anybofnher teammates, build like a twig. He had fluffy, white, almost glowing hair, caucasian complexion, and wore a black and white jumpsuit with a tool belt. Big ‘P’ on his chest indicated he was someone from a hero/villain scene, and from general vibes she got, M’gann was leaning towards a hero. He was kinda cute. She coughed awkwardly when she realized how long they just sat in silence.

“Hi?”

Apparently it was enough to release an incoherent babbling from the boy.

“Hi, um… Miss Martian, ma'am? I'm Phantom. What are you doing here? Is the rest of your Team going to fall off the sky too? Justice League?”

“Not right now probably”

She was ignored. Phantom just kept panicking.

“Is this some of your villain's schemes? Are you alright? You crashed pretty hard, sorry I landed on top of you by the way, do you–?”

“I'm fine, don't worry I got worse”

“Sure…”

“Sorry I threw you off the sky”

“Not your fault, really, it's fi–”

“You asked what I'm doing here. I went on my own to investigate when I saw the city blink out of existence and got sucked in. I'm not sure if my report from site made it through, but they know where I went, so they'll soon come to help, don't worry”

Phantom did not stop worrying.

“Alright, cool, cool” he ran his hand through his hair, tugging at them “The Justice League knows you mysteriously disappeared along with an entire city. This is fine, totally fine, absolutely–”

“You're panicking”

“No shit Sherlock. Someone kidnapped my city again and I have no idea how to fix it because my usual tactic is ‘punch the cause of the problem into submission’ and this time I can't punch the storm. Now you're here so if something happens, I’ll have pissed of Justice League to worry about because, of course, it will be my fault. You could be overshadowed and I have no clue what's going on but I have to fix it as soon as–”

“Breathe Phantom“ she interrupted again, projecting what the Team called ‘calming vibes’. Since it didn't involve outright entering someone's brain and humans almost didn't react to it, it was an okay thing to do without asking even on non-villains. “Remember, I'm a hero, not a damsel in the distress you have to protect non stop”

“Of course, you're not. You're Miss Martian. You're amazing, but it doesn't give me any more of an idea on what's going on nor what to do with Justice League when they come, obviously furious because everyone in Amity and their mother will testify that it was somehow my fault, especially if–”

“Hey, hey, none of that. I know you're a good guy and they’ll too. I will vouch for you if for some reason they get misled”

Phantom looked her in the eyes as if he was trying to read her mind himself without even an ounce of psychic powers. She could tell if he used it.

“I could be a bad guy,” he said seriously after a moment of silence.

“I know you're not”

“You don't know me”

“You spent almost all of our interaction agonizing over how to save your city. It's not typical bad guy behavior”

“I could be acting”

M’gann didn't even dignify it with her response other than an incredulous stare.

“ Alright, if I've been acting, I would be a lot cooler but still… I could be acting!”

“I'm a literal psychic, remember? I didn't read your thoughts, don't worry, I know it's invasive for humans. But I got a general overview of who you are, and your vibes matched pretty well with the vibes of good guys”

“Sure, of course, why not,” he muttered, taking a moment to reboot “Why is this my life now?”

M’gann decided it wasn't to her and well… Phantom wasn't wrong, she didn't know him, so however she'd try to answer it was pretty much hit or miss. But from what she'd seen of him, she was curious to learn more.

“Nevermind, let's get you a Specter Deflector before anyone tries to use you as a meatsuit” he said, catching her wrist to drag her somewhere.

She let him lead her. He still didn’t have any nefarious reasoning, and hey! Maybe she'll finish this adventure with a new teammate!

[Sure M’gann. Just a teammate. Don't worry, Danny won't be a panicked mess all of the time here]

#sorry if i misunderstood the reference i haven’t seen star wars #thank yoh so much for the prompt #it was so much fun to write! i had been stuck on an angst lately and this was so nice to work on #mgann and the curious case of disappearing cities #that's the tag when I'll continue if i won't do it in the reblogs #i have no idea why they would disappear but if you want a goofy story #i think it'd be something around some guy™️ seeing political shit on tv and saying something like #'Dang it I wishnwe lived in Switzerland or something'#unfortunately they were in Desiree's earshot #let me know if you want something more dramatic though #ill come up with something else #spearmint ship #danny fenton/m'gann m'orzz #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #wandixx writes #wandixx answers #rest of the prompts will be filled soon #have a nice day dear stranger who got to this part

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osunism · 23 days ago

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2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 9, 11, 12, 14, 16, 17, 19, 21, 32, 35, 37, 40, 41, 42, 45, 54, 55, 59, 61, 63, 66, 75 and 77 for the Fanfic Writer Asks. I know there are too many, sorry! 🥺🙏🏻

Oh wow! These are a lot but I will take great pride and joy in answering them. Thanks for giving me something to think about!

2. Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

It's a little bit of both, honestly. Lately I have been practicing being more deliberate and planning my stories more thoroughly as oppose to just writing and posting without thinking. Apparently this has had a positive effect. I get more comprehensive feedback on my writing than I ever have.

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic.

Generally I do what I call the "bookend method." That is, I usually have the first and last chapter planned out. I know how I wanna start, and I know how I wanna end. And I recently started imposing chapter limits on myself so each chapter is basically like a scene from a play in how I plan it. That is, I know who I want to include in each chapter, the general subject being covered in the chapter, etc.

4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

Music. I am a maladaptive daydreamer since I was 6 years old. Scenes have been turning in my head since I was cognizant enough to remember. Eventually the scenes spin into full stories. Of course, I read widely and often as well and get inspired to cook up my own ideas.

5. Do you like constructive criticism?

When I ask for it, yeah. I don't like when people just assume I want it because the comments tended to get a lil' disrespectful back in the day when I allowed that. Everyone's version of constructive criticism is different. To that end, if we have established a rapport, I welcome it. Everybody else: talk to me nice or not at all!

7. How do you choose which POV to write from?

It depends on how deep inside of a character [heh] I want or need to get. I used to be a die-hard first-person POV writer. But lately it's third-person limited.

9. Do you comment on stories you read?

I try to. I usually want to make my comments more than the usual flailing and emojis and memes. I want to leave substantial evidence as to why I enjoyed the fic, how it made me feel, etc. And I'm very good about it these days.

11. Link your three favorite fics right now.

I'll do my faves:

Beneath the Silk by @phyx-m - Sukuna x f!Reader; I describe it as a dark and bloody Beauty & the Beast, only you're not really sure who the beast is in this situation. It's so good and Sukuna is so darkly seductive and menacing all throughout.

Academic Affairs by ChocolateGranola - Sukuna x Gojo AU where they are academic rivals-to-lovers. I'm riveted.

Kindred Spirits by SkipGabe - A Sukuna x OC fic with super cool lore, great worldbuilding, and a very cool take on Sukuna's origins.

Monster Hospital by mushmoon12 - A Gojo x Reader-ish fic that is most assuredly enemies-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-??? and it's an emotional rollercoaster.

Like Silk by satans_onlyfans - A Sukuna x Reader-ish fic that...well. Let's just say there's more than one Vessel.

Cor Unum by @vampyrsm - Sukuna x Reader-ish fic that can only be described as a fucking masterpiece from start to finish. I would say this fic and Beneath the Silk are in conversation with one another thematically, and the exploration of Sukuna is so well-done. It does have dead dove elements so be forewarned.

The Tragedy of a Duality by @katerina-marie - a Gojo x Reader x Sukuna fic that...well it's in the title. I recommend all this author's JJK stuff but this one was an absolute standout for me.

Infidelity by @tawus - A Gojo x Reader fic where Gojo proceeds to cause the most emotional distress I have ever seen just because Reader wanted to go out to the club. I don't wanna spoil too much but oh my god. Seriously, a masterpiece.

Sweet Little Lies by mooglepaws - A Toji x Reader and Reader x adult!Megumi non-curse!AU where Reader makes the best most horrible decision. The smut in this fic is astoundingly hot. Like maybe don't read this one in public.

12. How does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?

I used to let it get to me when I didn't get feedback on my fics, but I really do mean what I say when I say I write for myself. The stories I create for free are first and foremost for my enjoyment. That other people connect with and enjoy them too is now a bonus. I appreciate the feedback and support, but I will continue to write irrespective of receiving either. That being said, I won't lie and say getting feedback and support definitely helps motivate me to continue as much as my usual methods. :D

14. How do you write emotional scenes? Do you ever feel what the characters feel? Do you draw from personal experiences?

I draw from personal experience. When I want to evoke a certain emotion, I visit a memory of my own that evokes the exact shade of that emotion I want to paint on the page. I have...a lot of experience with some of the emotions that make more appearances in my fic than others.

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

I've got quite a few. Let's crack open the Scrivener document.

This is currently every single fanfic project I currently have in rotation. This is levels of brainrot I haven't had since Dragon Age, and I have 60 published fics for that fandom. I have a lot of thoughts about this fucking manga/anime.

17. What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

When I want to be inspired, I read. When I want to create, I write. Sometimes it's necessary to read and let my brain process and enjoy being a reader for a while rather than constantly thinking about writing [which my brain perceives as a problem that needs solving].

19. What is the most-used tag on your AO3?

Original Female Character, probably.

21. Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story?

I have! While it was me commissioning the author for a story I created, we consider it a collaborative effort as we worked together every step of the way getting the story just right, and it featured my character in my continuity. I had hoped to be able to do this with more artists and writers in the future but the JJK fandom is...insular. I had plans for a little project featuring stories and art in my 'verse. There's writers whose writing styles I really enjoy and I would love to collab with them. :D

32. Name three of your favorite fanfic writers.

@phyx-m

@septembersums

@tawus

And this isn't to exclude other authors I read [I have a very exhaustive list, actually], but these are my three faves for their portrayal of my favorite canon characters, their premises, and their prose.

35. What is one essential thing to remember when writing a villain?

They don't always have to have redeeming qualities for you to relate to them. It's okay to like that piece of shit for being a piece of shit.

37. How do you choose where to end a chapter?

Usually I treat it like a thesis paper. The chapter covers a specific subject and has a specific goal. I end the chapter when those objectives are met.

40. If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

There's a scene in Daughter of Disgrace where Yuji and Sundari get caught in Sukuna's domain. Sundari covers Yuji with her body and hugs him close while she casts her version of Hollow Wicker Basket, called Lakshmi's Lotus. It functions the same way as Falling Blossom Emotion in that it reduces the lethality of the domain. The Lotus technique layers this barrier and requires a lot of cursed energy. She was able to keep Yuji and herself safe for the duration of the domain [99 seconds].

The other scene is from the same fic, when Nadja...does what she does and shocks Sukuna.

41. Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person?

I honestly used to be one and done, but lately there's been some writers who have been knocking it out of the park with crafting stories that I love coming back to again and again. It might be the prose, the premise, the smut, whatever it is...I keep it in my bookmarks for a reason.

42. What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

The last fic I read was the Daddy Duty series by @sandwitchstories.

I highly recommend it if you like Dad!Kuna headcanons and fics. I have been craving some soft and wholesome Sukuna lately [and been too lazy to write it], so I was delighted when this popped up in my personal Sukuna feed on BlueSky. :D

45. Do you want to break your readers‘ heart or make them laugh?

My hope as a writer is to be able to do both, sometimes back to back.

54. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

When I get to write That One Scene™️ that's been rattling around in my brain for what feels like forever.

55. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

Nadja is my all-time favorite OC I've ever created. As I've said before, I don't get a lot of feedback on my work outside of my Dragon Age fics. Nadja is my favorite OC because she's complex. She's not very likeable [she's a terrible parent and literally kills for money], she is hedonistic, and she tends to be very self-serving. Something kind of fun writing a character like that. Honorable mention to Sundari because I love writing a tough, strong girl who kicks ass and has a bad attitude.

59. Does anyone in your personal life know you write fic? if not, would you tell anyone?

Literally everyone in my life knows I write fic. Whether I allow them access to those fics is another matter. My parents used to catch me reading/writing smutty fanfic when I was in high school so...yeah. Imagine how they feel now that I'm a published writer with a proper degree and everything. Let the kids read/write their fic!

61. Why do you continue writing fics?

It's so fun! I love making my favorite characters smooch my OCs.

63. Something you hate to see in smut.

Cervix abuse. Y'all. Please. That shit is not fun in real life, I promise. A few little taps, yeah, but constant bruising? NO PLEASE NO.

That being said, I know how to hunt for the good smut.

66. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie. pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc.)?

I don't feel any pressure because I get no traction on my fics like that to feel like I need to update on any kind of schedule. So I write and publish whenever I feel like it.

75. What scene in [Fanfic Name] took the longest to write? What was difficult about it?

Since you didn't specify a fic name, I will pick one! Daughter of Disgrace, you're up!

The scene that took the longest for me to write was in chapter 11. Saddest thing I have ever written in years, I literally cried several times writing it, editing it, rereading it, posting it, etc. Sukuna and Sundari and Nadja deserved better than the hand fate dealt them.

77. Do you have a favorite scene you’ve written from [Fanfic Name] story/chapter?

Favorite scene I've written from Daughter of Disgrace? There are so many! I really put my heart into that fic and I have so many favorite moments I revisit. There's the scene where Sundari and Gojo kill the higher ups together. Then there's the whole birthday party. The Shinjuku Showdown with Plot Twist was also fun as hell.

Honestly that whole fic was a good time start to finish.

𑁍 Fanfic Asks 𑁍

#muse's inbox #muse mail #sugar-lollipop #muse memes #ask meme #fanfic meme #thank you these were so fun to answer!#your support means so much to me 🥹#fic rec #muse recs #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #呪術廻戦 #jjk fanfic #black writer #writers on tumblr

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