#wc: 104

[fletching-scar]

🎄

Son of a bitch. As though Shinon had not left Tellius for the express purpose of never again laying eyes on anyone he knew in Tellius... it was just one blowout reunion after the other. Bad for a man's heart.

Worse when it's the fucking princess, and worse still when the girl's King Ramon's whelp. Man thought half-breeds and humans could eat at the same table, but he never stopped to consider whether there'd be food on the table to begin with.

Not always. Not for Shinon, anyway. He huffs, loud and horrible and phlegmy, and buries a curse in his wine-cup.

"Fuckin' blue-bloods."

[lgcxmimi]

"ahh, yes, ill totally make it for you, and you'll love it." she says with a grin and a giggle, cackling at sarang's face a bit. she definitely understood the sentiment, but really, gingerbread sort of snuck up on her most of the time, and now she couldn't go through the holidays without having at least one. it was one of the many rituals that came with the season. she sits up a little bit straighter as she mentions her games, gasping a bit before she's nodding quickly in agreement. "ah, i love animal crossing. i'm usually a pvp sort of girl, but it's so calming, especially when we've been working hard and i need something a little lighter. it's a good game!"

now emi laughs a bit more, shrugging a bit. "ah, ever the responsible, that's nice though. what's the farthest you've had to plan ahead for a gift?" she's curious nos, before a question came for her and she has to hum in thought. "Oh... if you mean like i truly didn't expect it? my friend got me a matcha set, and i've been so obsessed with it. i never thought i'd get something like that, but a good drink is hard to come by, and it was so relaxing to have a ritual of making a matcha before i went to training. "

"i'll trust you and try it once." the listeners couldn't see her face but she scrunched her nose. sarang just didn't trust the flavor of gingerbread even if she was partial to hot chocolate. at the question of her favorite game, sarang perked up right away. she could answer this without a second thought. "so, i got harvest moon a wonderful life. that's the only game i cared about for a while. i was obsessed…and then i became obsessed with the entire series. i didn't get to play them all because of the different systems but…i think it opened my heart to sim life games. so right now, i play both the sims and animal crossing heavily." and she had no shame in admitting it. "i find myself asking the same question whenever i hang out with my younger cousins."

at the mention of planning last minute, sarang shook her head. "i would stress to much if it was last minute. if you ever need someone to plan..i'd be your girl. i need to have a plan." even if was for buying gifts, getting them wrapped and everything she put into it. some might call it over the top and sarang would agree. "i have another gift related question for you. what's the most surprising gift you've ever gotten. what was your reaction?"

[emeraldsandpearlsss]

Under Pressure

As a graduation present to yourself you head to the spa to finally get some relaxation. Lucky for you, your masseuse knows just how to work out that tension.

(this is my first attempt at a one shot so be gentle)

WC: 4.4k

content warnings: strangers, fingering (f receiving), oral (m and f receiving), hand job, riding the tiger

After six grueling years of college, I had finally earned this spa day. Going straight into grad school after getting my Bachelor’s was a decision I knew would be challenging, but I hadn’t anticipated the physical toll it would take on me. The mental hardships I managed with various prescriptions and my nightly date with Lady Indica, but nothing seemed to ease the tension that had been locked in my shoulders for the past three years.

So there I soaked, neck deep in the outdoor mineral bath, as the 104-degree water soothed my aching joints. The spa was hidden away in the mountains, down a winding road flanked by lush greenery. I’d been here for two hours already, cycling between the hot and cold plunge pools and swimming laps. Now I lounged, waiting for my upcoming aromatherapy massage. With the day pass costing upwards of $500, I was determined to make every cent count.

When my 15 minutes were up, I headed inside to the spa’s service area. The receptionist checked me in, handed me a towel, and guided me to the showers to rinse off before my treatment. The hallways were dimly lit and refreshingly cool, infused with the earthy aroma of stone walls, subtly mingled with hints of jasmine and eucalyptus oils. My shower resembled a rock waterfall. This whole place knew how to set a tone.

I quickly undressed, rinsed off, and wrapped myself in the plush towel. My hands lightly shook as I knotted my hair into a silk scrunchie and I felt a flutter of tension deep into my belly. I had never had a massage like this before. I had never spent this much on myself before. But I earned this. I had to keep reminding myself I worked hard for this.

Entering Room 3, I paused to take in the serene atmosphere. The soft, white massage table rested at the heart of a dimly lit room, bathed in a soothing blue glow. The stone-lined walls evoked the serene ambiance of a tranquil cave, inviting a deep sense of calm. I took my place on the table, face up as instructed, and let out a slow, steadying breath.

A soft knock broke the quiet, followed by the gentle creak of the door opening. I turned my head to greet my masseuse and was met with a pair of jade-green eyes illuminated by the room’s soft light.

"Hello," he said, his voice carrying a gentle British accent. "My name is Harry, and I’ll be your massage therapist today."

For a moment, I forgot myself, taking in the sight of him. His soft brown hair was tied back in a bun, mirroring my own. He wore a simple short-sleeved button-down and matching trousers, accented only by a blue name tag. Tattoos adorned his left arm in an intricate array, with just a few scattered on his right. As my gaze traveled back up to meet his eyes, I felt the need to steady my breath. 

"H-hi. Hello," I stammered, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that I had nothing but a pair of cotton panties beneath my towel.

"Are there any areas you’d like me to focus on today?" he asked as he moved around the room, setting out lotions and placing a few drops of oil into the diffuser. He was so at ease in his routine and I felt like my world had tilted on its axis. 

His words caused an unexpected ache to thrum low in my belly. I clenched my thighs together, hoping to dispel the sensation as discreetly as possible. That particular area hadn't received any focus since the start of my grad program.

By another person that is.

And god three years was a long time to go with only the company of a pink vibrator. And maybe a dildo…and a purple vibrator that had the thrusting motion…and occasionally a plug but only on special occasions…

But no men. 

And certainly not men who looked like him. I’d been here for two hours already, cycling between the hot and cold plunge pools and doing some laps in the pool. His hands seemed capable of molding me like play-doh, with veins running along them and up along his firm forearms… It was easy to imagine them working out…tension. 

"My shoulders have been sore," I managed to choke out, wincing slightly at the crack in my voice. My shoulders weren’t any more sore than any other part of my body, but I felt like I had to say something. 

"Alright," he said with a reassuring nod. "We’ll start there and see how you’re feeling. Just close your eyes and try to relax." 

I did as instructed, taking a few calming breaths. The sound of him rolling a stool closer and the faint squeezing of lotion filled the room.

"Is it alright if I touch you now?" he asked gently.

I nodded softly, and his hands found their place on my shoulders, warm and reassuring. His palms pressed firmly into my traps, kneading with a steady rhythm that radiated a soothing warmth through my muscles. His thumbs traced slow, deliberate circles, each motion dissolving knots of tension that had accumulated from countless hours hunched over a computer screen. The relief was immediate, like all of the weight I had been carrying was slowly lifting away.

His fingers traveled with a knowing precision, working their way across the ridges of my shoulders and upper back. A satisfying pressure built with each movement—firm enough to coax the tension from my muscles but never harsh, as if he intuitively understood my threshold. As he moved his hands to my neck, his touch deepened. He slipped his fingers beneath my shoulder blades, a light stretch accompanying the glide upward.

His hands transitioned seamlessly into my hair, the silky strands parting as his fingertips brushed against my scalp. The sensation magnifying the ache between my legs. His touch grounded me in the moment while leaving my senses heightened.

Slowly his hands began to curl around to the sides of my neck, along my pulse point and up to my temples. My heart rate picked up with each pass, my legs flexing and releasing. As he worked his way up to my jaw, his thumbs gently massaging near my earlobes, an unrestrained moan escaped my lips.

Harry’s hands paused, and my breath caught.

I opened my eyes cautiously, only to find his locked with mine, his lips slightly parted.

"Sorry..." I whispered, mortified.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly, and with a subtle nod, resumed his motions without a word.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying desperately to calm my racing thoughts and praying he couldn't feel the pounding of my pulse along my throat. But the crimson flush of embarrassment burned across my skin, and my mind refused to settle.

Did I make it weird? I made it weird. Why was he looking at me like that though? I'm sure I just imagined it. It's his job to do this, I doubt I'm the first person to ever make a noise, it's fine. But oh god why is he so quiet? I guess he was quiet before... Was it awkward before? Have I been making this whole thing weird? No, no, it's a spa, you're supposed to relax. It's fine. You're fine. Breathe.

After tending to my arms Harry asked me to turn onto my stomach. I awkwardly maneuvered myself, clinging to the towel as I tried not to tumble off the table. I don't think I could handle embarrassing myself again today. Once in position, I felt a gentle tap on my back.

"I’m going to need you to pull down the towel so I can see your back," he said softly. "I also have this pillow for under your hips."

I shimmied the towel down to my lower back and adjusted the pillow beneath me. To my surprise, it eased a pressure I hadn’t realized had been building in my lower spine.

I looked over my shoulder, daring to make eye contact again. "Is this okay?" I gently ask.

He held my gaze for a moment, his hand resting gently on my calf, before responding, "Perfect." I thought I could see him give a harsh swallow, but surely I must have mistaken it. 

Turning to face the ground through the cushioned face hole of the massage bed I felt myself flush again. This man has said little to nothing to me and yet I am disolving into a pile of goo on the floor. Truly pathetic. Call me the Wicked Witch because I, too, will apparently die if I get a little wet.

As Harry gently kneads my legs I feel the ache between my thighs becoming harder to ignore and debate ending the session. This is supposed to be relaxing but I'm so wound up and in my head that I fear I'm making everything worse. 

After several more minutes of imagining what other areas my masseuse could work on I let out a frustrated sigh and resigned myself to end the session. I begin to lift myself up when I feel him place a firm hand on the back of my upper thigh. I freeze, my hands gripping the edge of the table but waiting for any indication of what's happening.

"Wh-"

"Just lay back down. I know. I've got you."

I tilt my head in his direction, still too scared to make eye contact for fear that I'm imagining what he's implying.

"Harry what do you..."

He moves his hand up my thigh a fraction of an inch.

Clearing his throat he asks, "Is it alright..." he moves another inch, "if I touch you?"

The question hangs in the air as I try to imagine a world in which things like this happen to people like me. 

"Yes," I say in a breathless whisper. Scared that someone will hear. Scared that I'll make him disappear.

He places a hand on my shoulder and delicately pushes me back down onto the table, holding me between the shoulderblades as he slides his hand between my thighs. When I feel the tips of his cool fingers caress me my body tenses on instinct and I clench my legs around him. His minty cool breath hits my face as he bends down and whispers, "relax," in my ear as his index finger begins to glide up and down my now soaked panties.

After a deep breath I begin to ease the tension in my legs, letting them fall farther apart to give him more access. 

His hand moves slowly, exploring everything still hidden from him by thin cotton. It’s a dramatic difference from the pounding of my pulse ringing in my ears. My breath comes out in choppy puffs as I harshly swallow and try to calm myself down.  The friction of cotton against me sends zings of pleasure through my body and I clench my fingers trying to hold onto this side of the earth as it begins to spin around me. But the pleasure is outweighed by my need to feel him on me. In me. 

Without much thought I gently ease my hips up from their propped position on the pillow, my body taking over and letting him know I need more. That’s when I feel his fingers gliding along the seam of my panties, teasing me. 

“Can I-”

“Yes,” I let out in a low moan. I’m not above begging at this point. I appreciate the checking in. I do. But if he doesn’t touch me right now I fear I will fall apart, fractured and broken, unable to hold together the ache that's been building inside me.

When he pulls aside my drenched underwear and begins to slide a finger through my arousal everything else in the room turns to fog. There is only the soft glow of blue light, me, and Harry. I am in the clouds and he is propelling me higher. When he finally makes his way to my throbbing clit the ground falls away beneath me. 

Harry’s free hand trails up my back until gently tangling with the hair at the base of my neck, giving it a firm hold. His other hand is working slow, torturous circles around my aching nub. Every time I start to feel the pressure build in my lower belly he moves away, collecting more of my arousal before starting the process all over again. 

Swirl. Swirl. Swirl. Stop.

Again. And again. 

I can’t help it when a whimper escapes my lips as he does it for the fourth time. At the sound Harry gently releases my hair allowing me to look over my shoulder at him, where his sparkling green eyes are already trained on mine. A small smirk is on his lips. He’s enjoying working me up. As we look at eachother I can see the challenge in his eyes. He’s pushing me and I have no stamina to put up a fight. Another desperate whine escaped my throat as I breathlessly choke out a, “please.”

Please is always the magic word. 

He keeps our eyes connected as he removes his hand just long enough to drag down my now soaked underwear. One finger slides inside of my dripping pussy, and then a second. My eyes roll back and then close as my jaw falls open, taking in the pleasure and the pressure of the fullness. His fingers are long and hit that spot inside of me that makes stars explode behind my eyes with ease. As he begins to massage my g-spot his thumb resumes the tortuous circling of my clit and I bury my head in the cushions to attempt stifling my moans. My hips begin to rock back, urging him to… I don’t know what. But I need more of him. 

Suddenly a firm hand slips around my waist and between my breasts, pulling me up so I’m forced to prop myself on my forearms. His hand continues up and gently locks around my throat. A sob of appreciation escapes me as he begins to fuck me harder with his fingers. Tears pool in my eyes as the pressure in my belly becomes almost too much, begging for release. Harry tightens his thumb and ring finger against my airways, giving me a delicious high as I feel him lean over me again, breathing in sync with me.

“You’re so tense…” he gently pants next to my ear. “You really shouldn’t let it get this bad you know. We’ve got to get all of these knots out…” 

Just then Harry releases my throat and tears spill as the headrush overcomes me. I’m gasping, trying to bring myself back to reality, when I’m suddenly pushed back down to the table by my shoulders. Harry holds me firmly to the table as I hear him shuffle around behind me. Then his mouth is on me. He moves to wrap his arms underneath my thighs, his rough fingers digging into my soft skin as he spreads me open and buries his face in my cunt, his tongue gliding up and down - savoring me -  before settling on my throbbing clit. 

I hear a moan escape him as he firmly sucks my clit between his lips. The pressure of his tongue is the only thing keeping me grounded. Everything else falls away and all that matters is that plump pink mouth pulling me towards nirvana.

His left arm remains holding me tight as his right hand slides up the back of my thigh, leaving a train of goosebumps in their wake. A firm hand gently kneads at my ass before sliding his fingers back into my entrance. The feeling of his mouth and his fingers are so intense I try to lock my legs, but his grip is firm. I am at his mercy and god I fucking love it. I bite on my palm to stifle my moans, not wanting to get caught in here. 

Harry is all about the tease. Working me up and leaving me wanting again. My body is all stars and electric currents, twinkling so bright and zapping me back into clarity. But if I am the stars, Harry is the sun, blinding me to every sensation except that mouth. That fucking mouth. 

The only sounds are choked sobs, panting breath, and the slick slide of skin on dripping skin. My body is sticky with sweat but the room keeps me cool, despite feeling like every nerve ending is on fire. 

I begin to move my hips again, riding his fingers and his mouth as he flicks and sucks and slides in and out of me all at once. Harry groans in appreciation, his fingers digging into my flesh harder. I reach back and grab Harry by his bun, holding him to me, too scared of the moment slipping away. With a low chuckle Harry nips at my swollen nub and then applies pressure with his tongue in a pulsing motion. 

The sensation starts in my toes, a gentle fizz like bubbles rising in a glass of celebratory champagne. The tingling spreads, climbing higher and higher. As it reaches my legs, they tense on their own, every muscle coiled tight with anticipation. I don’t notice I’m holding my breath until a dark haze begins to blur the edges of my vision. And then everything inside me shatters. 

The orgasm that hits fractures me into a million pieces, too powerful for a sound or a breath to escape. I am frozen with pleasure, completely at his mercy. Harry’s fingers continue to thrust into me, helping me ride out the orgasm as long as I could. Removing his mouth, he blows a cool breath on my sensitive clit and I throb around his fingers as I start to come down. When he finally takes away his hand he softly massages my calves and I work to regain control of my breathing. 

Neither of us look at each other for several minutes, the only sound to be heard is our jagged breaths. 

In. (hold) Out…

In. (hold) Out…

I gather enough strength to sit up and remove the pillow from under my hips and look over to see Harry leaning against the stone wall, watching me closely. His hands are at his sides and he’s subtly flexing his fingers, clearly unsure of what to do next. Despite his black pants and the dim lighting of the room I can still make out that he is in need of a release. The bulge beneath his scrubs looks painfully restrained.

I slide off of the massage table and tentatively walk over to him, never breaking eye contact. 

Worry crosses his face as he opens his mouth to speak. “I don’t normally…” but his voice trails off as I slowly lower myself to my knees in front of him. I never take my eyes off of his and can’t help but smile inside as I see his chest begin to rise and fall at a rapid pace. 

I place a soft hand on his thigh and tilt my head, giving my best doe eyes. “You really shouldn’t let it get this bad you know…” I glance down and back up, repeating his own words back to him. Sliding my hands up his thighs I let my fingers run along the waistband of his pants. “Can I…?”

Harry lets out a strangled, “yes” as his head falls back against the wall. A few strands of hair have fallen out of his bun and gently curl around his face. I almost lose sight of my task as I take in just how beautiful this absolute stranger is. A faint flush creeps up his neck, his lips are full and slightly swollen, and his eyes carry a subtle, dreamy haze.

I attempt to return his torture by taking my time untying the knot from his scrub pants and pulling them down, but when I see the tiger tattoo on his thigh all plans are thrown out the window. I’m suddenly salivating and desperate to see all of him. More tattoos reveal themselves to me - soft words by his knees and jagged lyrics along his ankles, disappearing behind socks. I bend down to press my lips to one knee, then the other, without thinking. Taking hold of his thighs I begin to kiss my way up, savoring the feel of his muscular thighs as the clench in anticipation. I rise over the tiger and past his hips until my mouth landed on the ferns resting just above his black boxer briefs. My tongue traces the lines of the ink as my hands work down his underwear.

Pulling back I take a moment to admire his cock that has so patiently - and painfully - been begging for some attention. His heavy erection twitches as I take a soft lick of the precum that’s starting to drip before sliding my mouth over him and taking him into the back of my throat. Any attempt at going slow was now abandoned. His hips buck at my swiftness and I feel his knee give a tremble beneath my hands. I pull off of him, giving the tip of his cock a swirl of my tongue before sliding back down and setting a steady pace. 

As my nails trail softly down his thighs, his hands dart to my hair, gripping it firmly. I can sense the tension radiating through him, his body taut with restraint. Pulling away, I pause, waiting for his gaze to lock with mine. Reaching up, I touch his arms, letting my hands glide down to meet his. With a small, reassuring nod, I signal it’s okay, and his grip tightens in response. He guides me back onto him and gives a few testing rocks of his hips to make sure I’m okay. A shuddering sigh escapes his lips when he finally pulls me to the hilt of his cock and holds me there for a few moments. I swallow around him and he begins to move his hips again. 

My eye’s never leave his face as he slides his cock in and out of my mouth. I want him to know my gratitude. I want him to feel as good as he made me feel. I can feel my arousal building again as I watch him, amazed that I’m the one making these emotions of pleasure cross his face. His eyes are closed, his mouth gently hanging open as soft puffs of breath and stuttered gasps fall from his lips. The serenity of his face are a stark contrast to the fevered pace he is keeping. Tears fall and saliva dips down my chin as he roughly fucks my throat, but I’m so turned on I can’t stop myself from reaching down to relieve the pressure between my legs. 

When Harry sees me touching myself he withdraws my mouth from him, a string of spit connecting my mouth to his still swollen cock. His eyes are dark as he tugs my head further back and looks from my face to my fingers working fast circles on my clit. Giving him a smirk I lift my fingers to my mouth, but as I go in for a lick I’m met with his tongue already there, desperate to taste me again. For the first time our mouths meet in a desperate kiss and Harry drops down to his knees to meet me. Hands and lips and tongues become tangled as we pull each other closer, closer, closer. 

Harry hoists me up and places me so I’m straddling his thigh, his hands tightly gripping my hips and sliding my dripping cunt along his tiger tattoo. I wrap one arm around his shoulder, my fingers fumbling with the hair tie as I release his long curls. I pull away from our kiss and take a moment to admire him before spitting in my hand and gripping his still needy cock. We work our bodies in sync, my hips sliding up and down with every stroke of my hand on him. Desperate moans escape me as my head falls forward and rests in the crook of his neck. 

I grind my clit down harder on Harry’s thigh, savoring the blissful friction as I roll my hips but so desperate for a second release. His hips had started rocking into my hand letting me know he was just as eager to come. Without breaking my stride I let the spit pool behind my teeth before releasing it to dribble down, meeting the hand that was frantically working him towards his release. Harry leaned forward and captured my lips again, his hungry togue sliding into my mouth. 

Losing control, I moan into his mouth as the champagne bubbles float upwards again. Harry’s grip turns bruising as he pulls me down harder along his thigh while I maintain my rocking motion. When the bubbles finally reached the surface and overflowed I let out a silent gasp, unaware that I had been holding my breath again. I feel Harry’s cock pulsing in my hand and open my eyes to meet his as we finish together. Our hair is stuck to the sweat along our foreheads and our cheeks have a matching flush. I can’t bring myself to break his gaze as we both release soft, uneven breaths, waiting for our breathing to steady.

Several moments pass before a giggle escapes me, followed by another, and another. Harry shakes his head but begin to laugh as well. And so we sit there, naked, on the floor of this massage room, laughing until our stomachs hurt and tears run down our faces. 

As I walked back to my car my cheeks still ached from smiling. Harry and I hadn’t spoken a word about it while we cleaned up, just shared quiet chuckles whenever our eyes met. At the locker room, his fingers brushed my arm, lingering for a fleeting moment before he turned and disappeared back into the spa center. I drove away with a sense of calm I hadn’t felt since before grad school, a weight lifted off my shoulders—and a package for five more sessions tucked in my pocket. 

After all, some knots need more than one visit to work out.

[uumeboshii]

wc: 1, 104

content warnings: breeding? ! reader is referred to as ma'am. feminine pronouns. oral (fem rec)

"Hinata Shoyo, the acclaimed professional volleyball player and part of Japan men's national team, coming up next week!"

The cheerful voice of the show's narrator vibrates through the room, announcing the appearance of your fiancé. He had been thrilled when the show's producers and parents contacted him, wanting him to come on the show and do some activities with the kids. He flew to South Korea within a week of talking and making arrangements, stayed for another to explore the city he was staying at, and would be coming home in a few days.

The screen showed clips of Shoyo smiling at the camera, looking around with a baby in arms, and- oh, taking a nap with the baby on his chest. You couldn't help but smile at the image; thoughts stirring in your mind (are you ovulating soon?) so loud and fast that your phone ringing almost makes you scream.

"Sugar! My flight is booked. I'll be home in three days, do you want me to bring you anything from Korea? They have a ton of varieties of that spicy ramen you like so much..." Shoyo's voice was bright, bouncing off the speaker as he named all the different flavors of ramen "... and curry, wait, there's also one of those self-heating Hot Pot bowls"

"Mmm... bring carbonara and curry ramen, and some rice cakes if you can" Yes, ma'am! He responded, hanging up. He was so sweet to you. Would his babies be as cheerful as him?

Five days later, Shoyo was at home, resting, eating of those spicy curry-flavored ramen while you sat on the couch, waiting for his episode on the show to begin.

"I can't wait for you to watch it, the babies were so cute!" He says, a mouthful of noodles going into his mouth.

Nodding, you try the noodles, hoping the overwhelming heat will overpower the feeling in your lower abdomen.

It all goes well. Shoyo helping the older kid to tie his shoes, calling him endearing names every other sentence. You can't help but picture the kid with orange hair and your partner's big smile. Shoyo taking said kid and his younger sibling to the convenience store right after they expressed their craving for some melona ice cream bars, both of them holding his hand. He was so caring, so protective. Would he prefer to have boys? He seemed so at ease with them. And then, her. After coming home, the father had brought the youngest in the family to meet Shoyo, and it was impossible to miss the way his eyes lit up. She was a year old, hair in two little pigtails at the top of her head, in a yellow onesie.

Everything became a blur after that. He was so sweet to her, so soft. His eyes never left her, a secure hold on her at all times. Such a good father.

Sleep doesn't come easy.

Tossing, turning and groaning, your brain just can't sweep away the image of Shoyo with children of yours. Happily running through your house, their voices filling your ears.

Being pumped full of cum by your perfect, sweet soon-to-be-husband who'll take care of all of you.

You reach your hand out to your partner, tracing lines down his bare back. Poking his ribs, softly scratching the tan, freckled skin. His muscles tense when your nails leave red marks behind, a low mumble coming from your fiancé. "Hm?"

"You okay? Why are you up?" He says, turning around, facing you. His eyelids still open and close with sleep, a pair of fingers going straight to the ends of your hair. You nod. Your hand reaches up to caress his cheek, a leg pulling him closer to you until your lips meet for a kiss. It's soft until it isn't. Hunger takes over quickly, your teeth pulling on his lip as his hands grope your ass, positioning you on top of him. You sit on his hard-on to give the both of you a minute to breathe, moving slowly back and forth.

"I've been so wet all day, Sho— can't do it anymore," you blurt out, the thin fabric of your underwear sticking to your outer lips, making everything so, so uncomfortable. You hear him mumble some prayers before pulling himself up, all his weight on the palms of his hands as he pushes himself to you. Your lips clash, he has you leaning back as he takes your waist in his arms, his big muscles crushing you. Managing to lift your hips, you shimmy out of your shorts and squeal as Shoyo shifts your positions and throws you to the mattress, giggling. He snatches your shorts and dives into you, biting and kissing and sucking your inner thighs. His face gets closer to your heat, inhaling your scent as his arms around your legs, locking you in place.

"I can tell", he says. You try to close your legs around him, but his grip on you is so secure you only feel the tip of his tongue as he gives a kitten lick to your clit. A shiver goes through your body, his tongue licking long strips on your slit. "God, I've missed you."

Whimpering, you run your hand through his hair as he keeps licking and sucking at your clit; his tongue traces shapes along the folds of your pussy, nose bumping you with every move. It's as if he's doing it for himself, for his own pleasure.

Your grip tightens when you feel one of his hands snake and position itself at your entrance. His fingers prod at your hole as he keeps sucking, adding one finger and curling it upwards as his tongue presses flat against you. You grind on his face and he lets you, another finger being enough to have you moaning in a higher pitch, "Shoyo-Sho, mhm, just like that"

It fuels him, burying his face even deeper along with his fingers, pumping and curling just right. Your nails dig into his scalp and that's when he loses it, grinding against the mattress; he's so intoxicated with your scent, your touch, your voice, he just has to have you cumming on his face. Which you do, when he moans right into your core as he keeps fingering you. The burning sensation on your stomach spreading all over your body sends shivers down your spine and legs, which tighten around Shoyo's head as he keeps kissing. Your heart races. Shoyo climbs up your body, his nose breathing in the scent of your lotion.

"I wanna make you mine, no one'll take you from me"

[jayparked]

congrats on 1k!! 104 + sunghoon please <3

warnings: DOM SUNGHOON, brat tamer hoon, bondage, pet names, masturbation, voyerism

wc: 405

"I reward good girls, not impatient brats like you," Sunghoon growls as he tightens the final restraint against your wrist. You can't help but pout and wiggle your body against the cuffs. Not only did your boyfriend cuff your wrists together and to the headboard, but he also cuffed your ankles to the bedposts, both legs stretched out deliciously so you feel the cool air against your sopping cunt.

"C'mon, babe. You know you like it when I disobey." You try your best to lure him back to you, biting your bottom lip and moving so your breasts jiggle.

Unphased, Sunghoon leans down and pinches one of your hardened buds, eliciting a surprised yelp out of you.

"Not this time." He walks out of the room and for a moment you think he's really going to just leave you there. But after a few seconds, he returns with one of the dining table chairs.

"What are you doing with that?"

He doesn't answer. Just simply sets the chair next to the bed and slowly starts to take his clothes off.

"Sunghoon, what's the chair for?"

A smirk is all you get in response. He doesn't take his shirt fully off, just leaves it unbuttoned so you can see his muscles flex with each of his movements. Next, he unbuttons his jeans and slides them down his thighs along with his boxers. Sunghoon's hard cock seeps with precum, his hand quickly grasping his length and squeezing the tip until a bead is sliding down to his fingertips.

Once he sits down on the chair and leans back, starting to pump himself into his hand is when you realize what he's doing.

"Sunghoon. Please. This isn't fair," you moan, watching as your boyfriend smirks at you for the umpteenth time today. His pace doesn't stay slow and steady for long. Once his eyes are roaming your tethered body he loses his control and starts to pump himself with more haste, biting his bottom lip as he surpresses his moans.

"You only get to watch," he moans out with a low chuckle at the end, eyes sparkling with the amount of pleasure he's getting while watching you tug at your restraints, attempting anything you can so you can get your hands on him.

"B-but-"

"No buts, sweetheart." Sunghoon's cock twitches in his hand as his hips jut forward. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before you disobey me."

for part of my 1k follower celebration send me a member and a number from this list and i'll write a short drabble about it ♡ masterlist

[owl-of-fandom]

potions dungeon @wolfstarmicrofic wc: 104

The fumes are thick and heavy in the Potions Dungeon. The seventh years are in various states of disarray as they ponder over their cauldrons. 

“What do you smell?” James asks Sirius. 

The dirt in the forest, strongly brewed tea, sweet chocolate.

“Quidditch leather and freedom,” he says.

“ What about you, Moony?” James asks.

Sweet and milky tea, cigarette smoke, worn leather.

“Books and clean sheets,” he says. 

James snorts. “You both are horrible liars.” He watches his best friends blush crimson and look anywhere but at each other. 

He sighs. They will come around and confess eventually. Perhaps they just need another push. 

[pit-and-the-pen]

Hi! I am so grateful you came across my feed! You also have an incredibly extensive prompt list which is amazing btw. Could I please get a 104 and 75 with Azriel?? I have been wanting to see how they would do with a fairy, considering they are like the opposite of a bat. They’re light and airy, gorgeous wings. Illyrian wings are gorgeous too but in a dark way and I think the contrast is cool without having to make them an angel. Ya know? Thank you if you end up doing it!

Thank you so much and thank you for the request! My prompt list is left over from an event I did when I hit 100 followers and I just kept adding to it. I love the idea of the difference in their wings. Because the books have already explored a few different types of wings and I think fairy wings are absolutely gorgeous.

The reader is half High Fae, half fairy.

Hope you like it! <3

Warning: Unwelcome touching (not by Azriel), Smut (18+), protective Az!!!!

WC: ~1.7k

Divider by @cafekitsune

My  wings had always been something I was immensely proud of, sure they weren’t the stark white feathered covered ones from Day or the gorgeous bat-like wings from the Illyrains but you loved them. Translucent but pink iridescent, the membrane golden in color. Compared to my stature, short by fae standards, they easily were half of my height. 

When I moved from the Spring Court to Night, I remember feeling slightly self-conscious about them. Before the mating bond had snapped, Azriel had spent many nights reassuring me how beautiful he thought they were. How they made me special. I would sniffle into his neck, “But they let everyone know I’m only half High Fae.” He would hold my head in his hands and try not to laugh at the absurd concern. “So is Rhys, so is Cassian. Most High Fae are. That’s not a bad thing.” Light kisses were pressed to my face, “If anything it makes you more special. Something no other High Fae has.” His words calmed my raging mind. Once the mating bond had snapped, he really began to worship them. He was the first person I had let touch them. The both of us learned they truly were as sensitive as his own. It became something he could tease me with, only in the privacy of our bedroom. One touch and I would melt into his touch. 

Now, I stood in the middle of the throne room at Hewn City. Dress in midnight blue, the same exact shade as my mates siphons. The floor length gown is skin tight and the velvet was smooth under my fingers as I tried to smooth it out. 

I fidgeted slightly out of nerves. I had refused the first time Rhys offered to glamour them away, they were too much a part of who I was for me to hide them even in this vile place. But I still felt very exposed around this many unfamiliar faces.

Azriel had stepped away to join the conversation Rhys was currently having with Keir. Placing a small kiss on my temple as he walked away, “Have fun, sweetheart.” I instantly started looking for Mor, desperate for some semblance of comfort.   

I found her on the dance floor. I gave her a low bow, hand extended which she returned with a perfect curtsey. I took her hand and we began to weave through the other couples as we waltzed around the ballroom, her head thrown back with laughter. 

A pair of hands on my hips swept me out of her grasp. I let out a startled cry, expecting to be met with my favorite pair of hazel eyes. The male that had grabbed me was certainly not Azriel nor anyone I noticed. I could smell the faerie wine on his breath as he spoke in my ear, “What pretty wings.” I thanked him, my voice getting stuck like gum in my throat. I tried to pull the unknown male's hands off of my hips, even to just push them up to my waist but he just dug his hands in tighter. I yelped at the pressure and he just gave me a cocky smirk. 

“I know how sensitive Illyrian wings are, and given the shadowslingers scent all over you, I bet you do too,” He laughed at my shocked expression, “I wonder if these are just as sensitive.” By this time, we had stopped dancing. I stood frozen, bile turned my stomach as he reached a grimy hand up to stroke the edge of my wings. His rough touch made me chirp in pain, he had pitched the fragile membrane between his nails and dragged them down. 

He went to repeat the motion again when I felt the heat of him disappear entirely. When I looked around for him, I saw large black wings in front of my face. The male that had been touching me was pinned to the dance floor. Azriel’s heavy boots, holding him there by his neck. The male was desperately clutching at his leg, trying to pull him off. Azriel scoffed.

“Doesn’t feel so good to have someone touch you when you don’t want them to?” He pressed down a little harder, the muscles twitching in his leg. 

“Now, if you ever think about touching my mate, or anyone else, without their expressed interest,” His hand went to rest on truth-teller’s hilt. “You will find yourself without hands.” He lifted his leg off the male's neck and didn’t spare him a glance as he grabbed my hand and started leading me out of the ballroom. 

People jumped out of our way and I didn’t even think of saying anything to him as I felt his fury down the bond. Not at me, never at me. But for not being there to stop the hands I could still feel on my wings. He pulled us into a room, no, a closet, and I could almost make out the shape of him from the light that snuck along the frame. 

“Did he hurt you?” He asked sternly. Fae Lights flickered on, giving the room a soft glow. I shook my head and he let out a heavy exhale. He placed his forehead against mine and we just stood there as both of our breathing evened out

“Az, you didn’t have to do all of that.” I finally spoke blushing, the dim lights of the room doing nothing to protect me from his gaze.

“You don’t understand, I will do anything to protect you.” The solemnity of those words made my heart lurch and heat pool in my stomach. 

“I don’t know whether to be scared or turned on.” His laugh echoed in his chest. 

“Look at my dirty girl,” He started kissing down my neck, “Does seeing me defend you turn you on?” I whimpered when his tongue started following his kisses. 

“I don’t know, you’re the one that dragged me into a literal closet.” He growled lightly. 

“Be nice, sweet girl.” Chiding me, I felt desire and defiance flood my veins. 

“Bite me.”

 “With pleasure.” He all but purred in my ear and he was on me. His lips captured mine. Teeth captured my lower lip when I moaned into his mouth. His tongue explored my mouth, brushing against the roof of my mouth and my legs turned into jelly. He hiked my leg up to rest on his waist, using the hand on my back to stabilize me. Trailing up my leg with his free hand. 

“Fuck” He groaned when he reached the center of my thighs. Blood flowed to my cheeks. I was soaked. He didn’t waste anymore time before he slipped my panties to the side. I cried out as deft fingers found my clit and started rubbing tight, fast circles. 

My hands started to trail down to reach for his waistband but his shadows pinned my arms to my side. 

“Let me make you feel good, my love.” I moaned at his words. My moans instantly broke into a scream as I felt two of his fingers plunge into me. He curled against the rough spot and I panted out his name.  

“Az…Please, I need more.” I begged him. He just started to kiss my neck again, sucking what I knew would be angry bruises. His kisses started to trail lower, his shadows once again helping him as they slid the top of my dress down to expose my breasts. My hands went to his hair as he wrapped his lips around my nipple. Sucking the perfect amount of pressure, mixed with his fingers pistoning in and out of me. I felt myself fall apart under him. My climax racked through me hard, I sagged against his hand still on my back. 

“There you go. Good girl.” He praised me. I expected his hand to pull away but he kept working me through waves of pleasure. I whined, “Too much. Az.” I panted out the words, chest quickly rising and falling as I tried to catch my breath. 

“Can you give me one more?” His kisses started trailing lower and he unwrapped my leg from his waist. I was going to say something but it got lost on my tongue as he started to sink to his knees. He began to trail kisses up my leg as he went to throw my foot over his shoulder. 

He placed one of my hands on his head, my fingers instantly grabbing his soft locks. 

“Hold on princess.” Was the only warning I received before he dove in between my legs. I mewled at the pressure his lips sucked around my clit, still sensitive from my last orgasm. Broken versions of his name left my mouth and I tried to stop my hips from bucking. He used his free hand to guide my hips, letting me ride his face. It didn’t take long for him to have me at the edge. My eyes squeezed shut, white spotting the black behind my eyelids as he gave my clit a soft nip. That was enough to have my orgasm crashing over me. This time, my knees did buckle out from under me but Azriel’s hands were there instantly to hold me up. 

I blinked up at him. He was the picture of male satisfaction as he took in my glassy eyes. I once again went to reach for his pants but he pushed my hands away with a chuckle. 

“Later. I promise.” He said when I pouted at him. “Two isn’t enough for you, sweet girl?” I shook my head and he really laughed at that. He stood back up and smoothed out the lines in his suit. He helped me adjust my dress back into place. My hair was a lost cause, as well as my smudged makeup. He pressed a bruising kiss to my lips and when he pulled away he whispered in my ear

“Now we’re going to go back out there, covered in your scent and maybe that will remind people just exactly who they’re messing with from now on.”

[brilium]

ˋ°•-⁀➷ Tattoo Artist! Eren Headcanons♡

THIS HAS BEEN ON MY MIND FOR SO LONGGGGG. I wasn't planning to add smut but the things somehow turned out like that hehe

Content warning. fem reader, mention of needles, short smut at the end, praising, watercolor tattoos are beautiful but Eren hates them, I'm sorry.

wc. 1,026.

♡ Tattoo Artist! Eren started doing it as a hobby just to do something in his free time during his freshman year but ended up loving it and being his principal source of money currently.

● When Tattoo Artist! Eren was still learning, he asked Mikasa and Armin if they'd let him tattoo them for practice. Armin instantly said no because he would have to stop attending swimming classes for a month and Mikasa said that she'd only say yes if he let her tattoo his neck in exchange. From that moment, Eren looked for more friends that would say yes and never asked them again for his own safety.

♡ Tattoo Artist! Eren's first person to tattoo was Reiner, he was all excited to get tattooed by his friend and even offered to let him keep tattooing him in the future. Even if Eren hid it, he was actually so moved that his friend trusted in him that much.

●Tattoo Artist! Eren social media is 100% tattoo. You want to know his face? Make an appointment for a tattoo though his IG and meet him in real life because he doesn't have any other social media.

♡ Tattoo Artist! Eren loves to do black work but hates the watercolor style. Ironically, because he thinks that is too off.

●Tattoo Artist! Eren is not a fuckboy but has a… very active sexual life. There's even a small box of condoms in a drawer on his station, just in case.

♡ Tattoo Artist! Eren is not full body tattooed but at least his right arm is fully covered with tattoos. There's some on his left hand and forearm, chest and a small "C" because of his mother's name behind his ear. Carla supports his passion for his job but sighs every time he comes to visit her with more ink on his body; still, she excuses that one just because she loves him and is so proud.

●Tattoo Artist! Eren loves his friends, even if they are a pain the ass as coworkers. He owns a small studio with Jean, Connie and Sasha, that damn trio… Also! They decided to call the studio Squad 104 just because that was the class number where they and their other friends met at uni. Even though it was too cheesy, Eren agreed it with a smile.

♡ Even though, Tattoo Artist! Eren hates Jean's lack of organization, causing him or the others to have to take the clients that he frequently schedules on the same day as others. He sighs when Jean knocks at his door, asking him to take a client tomorrow because he already had plans at that time.

● His jaw drops once you cross the principal door of the studio the next day asking for Yeager Ink. Tattoo Artist! Eren is not a believer, but he's starting to think that he got blessed by taking that medium flower design. The best part? Is not a damn watercolor tattoo.

♡ Ass man? Tits man? Fuck, no. Tattoo Artist! Eren turns into a loyal thighs man the second you lie on his massage bed to the side and lift your skirt to point that you want the tattoo on the side part of your thigh. He loves the way you nod blushed when he asks if it's your first tattoo.

●Tattoo Artist! Eren sighs feeling like this is going to be a long session from the moment when he puts on the stencil guide for the tattoo and notices that you chose a thin black lingerie; As a tattoo artist, he thanks you for choosing the right clothes to make it easier for both, but the hard pain starting to grow on his jeans is really suffering right now.

♡Tattoo Artist! Eren glups hard once he starts and you can't help but squirm and whimper of pain. It's one of the least painful parts and you're already whining? That's the fucking cutest thing in the world. He tries to distract you by making small talk, knowing about your interests, your degree, age, the fact that you're single…

●Tattoo Artist! Eren starts to flirt subtly with you trying to see if you are comfortable; teasing you for being so sensitive to the pain, caressing softly your thigh when he cleans you with the wipe, complimenting your soft skin, telling you about which places you barely feel the pain for some future tattoos…

♡Tattoo Artist! Eren is trying so hard to hold himself when you dig your nails on his arm the moment he's on the black filling and shadows. You're blushing and nervous when he's wrapping your leg with the plastic protection while you apologize for hurting him, he can't help but smile and lean closer to you and thank you for being such a good strong girl the whole session.

●Tattoo Artist! Eren tries to be as gentle as possible with you, fucking you from behind, standing against the wall to not hurt the fresh tattoo on your leg with the massage bed. "Yeah, keep it like that, gorgeous. The needle on your skin was nothing, you can hold my dick in this sweet cunt, baby"

♡Tattoo Artist! Eren notices the weakness on your legs, so he turns you to face him and grabs you under the thighs to lift you and push you against the wall with every thrust. Your moans begging him to not stop are the sweetest sound he heard in his whole life.

●Tattoo Artist! Eren's station smells like sex after you both reach the orgasm, he gently seats you on the bed while he cleans the mess. Your gaze on his strong tattooed arms moving around almost makes you jump into him for a next round but your legs are sore for many reasons…

♡Tattoo Artist! Eren is a professional. He always seeks for the safety of his clients, so don't be surprised to receive a message from him to meet again "to check if the tattoo is healing correctly". He smiles widely when you immediately answer saying yes and asking if he's up for another session as soon as possible…

Should I make a part two? 👀

[patscorner]

COMING SOON...

wc: 104

______________________________

It didn’t take long for Angel to figure out something was changing. His foster parents were a lot more distant lately, so them telling him that they were divorcing wasn’t really a shock. What did surprise him, is finding out that his foster mom was taking him back to her hometown, which also happened to be his hometown.

So, Angel Dawson, his foster mom, Hannah Emerson, and her new boyfriend, Mark Connors, make their way back to the place Angel was born. Somerville, Massachusetts.

Friends and enemies are made, and secrets are revealed, but in the finale, it all ends with a Lovers Hatchet.

(I'm so excited for this series. You guys have no idea.)

______________________________

taglist: @kqyslyho3 @sstvrnioloo @mattsturniololoverr @theyluvkaitii-blog @chrattstromboli @Sillysillygyal @elliesturniolo1 @coochiedestroyer1 @Freshlovah0e @starsturns234 @g-lazyy @strnlsblog @ecliphttlunar @sturnioloblogs @y0urm4m @thenickgirl @muwapsturniolo @breeloveschris @worldlxvlys @freshloveforthefit @miloisdone1 @vanteguccir @annamcdonalds67 @freshsturns @rootbeerworshiper-deactivated20 @matty-bear @orangelala-deactivated20240425 @imwetforyourmom @stunnaagirllsworld @lanixsturniolo @blackhorses-posts @junnniiieee07 @pepsiboyy @deadxrx @ribread03 @ariieeesworld @venusxsturnio @mattslovelygf @Spencereidismybitch @ablanstar333 @jjmaybankshousekeeping @larnieboox88 @Preppy234 @endereies @eurphoric-rush @whosthislyssbitch @jetaimevous @h3arts4harry

[ccawz]

skz as keshi songs

a/n: stray kids vs keshi for my top artist on spotify. but i can’t listen to bandaids without thinking about chan. these are loosely based off the songs, surface-level lyrics.

warnings: word counts differ and are not consistent (85-145) half angst half fluff, realizing you’re (not you) falling out of love (ouch), Chan is not present (alluding to disassociation, not explicitly) alcohol. Before each blurb the category and word count are stated.

ot8! x gn!reader. 1.1k words total. don’t quote me on that

Jisung— hell/heaven (opening line), 85 wc | fluff

“Tell me more.” He adores you. Han Jisung could listen to you talk all day and night about anything and everything and remember every single word you say. “You’re cute when you ramble.”

A break in your sentence makes him laugh, hand falling from holding his head to holding your hand lightly. They’re clammy, but Jisung doesn’t mind.

A timid smile, Jisung melts, and another sparkle gets added to your eyes as you continue, gaze set on his fingers laced with yours across the table.

Seungmin— 2 soon, 141 wc | angst

“I miss you.” The voicemail sounds choppy, and you can hear the bustling sound of a crowd in the background and the loud cheers celebrating their milestone. “These parties aren’t the same without you. I don’t want to be here without you. Where are you?”

Seungmin sounds desperate near the end. You’ve come to the conclusion that he’s drunk, from the way his words slur to the way you know he would never say this with a sober mind.

“What did I do?” He asked. You can hear the tears in his voice. “How could I be stupid enough to lose you?”

The voicemail ends with that, and it has you wondering if the other seven are the same. Seungmin pleading, asking questions only he could answer, and him being drunk.

Your thumb hovers over his contact, and you call him.

Jeongin— It’s you, 104 wc | fluff

The first night you stayed over, Jeongin felt his heart stop when he saw the way his covers were swallowing you whole.

Loving was easy to do when it came to you, he guessed.

His smile grows when he sees you exit his bedroom wrapped up in one of his blankets, loving how cozy you look. “Hi.” The smile is evident in his voice, someone with their back turned would have noticed.

Chan, that someone, turns out of curiosity, biting back a grin when he sees Jeongin make his way toward you with stars in his eyes. He still gets excited to see you.

Chan— bandaids, 132 wc | hurt/comfort, read w caution

Chan couldn’t remember the first time it happened, him sleeping in your room every night. Was it when he was stressed about deadlines? …No, he’d stayed at the studio all day and night. Was it when you invited him over for dinner, and it was too late for him to go home?

Well, anyway.

“You should’ve told me.” Your voice was faint, he would’ve mistaken it for someone walking outside. Chan can’t hear you, feel you, or even see you. His mind is somewhere else, somewhere far, and his world is collapsing in front of him.

“I’m sorry.” You tell him, he can feel it now, the light stroking of your hand down his back. The ghost-like kisses to spot between his shoulder blades. “You don’t have to cry alone. I’m here.”

Minho— us, 96 wc | angst

Minho can feel things changing in front of him, and he can’t do anything about it. The touches don’t linger, the gaze feels colder than before, and the kisses seem half-hearted and filled with nothing but bitterness.

He admits it, that he hasn’t been as warm to you lately, but he never loved you any less. He watches you cook breakfast for the two of you with confused eyes. He sees you sneakily pass Dori a pancake crumb and press your finger against your lips to keep a secret.

But he doesn’t feel warmth like before.

Felix— summer, 95 wc | fluff

“Summer’s only three months,” Felix says, breath fanning against your lips. “Don't fall in love, yeah?”

The way you look at him makes his head spin. The same could be said about him, how his eyelashes hit his cheeks when he blinks slowly. Your hand reaches to his face, thumbing over the freckles littering his cheeks. You can feel them warm under your touch.

“I think I can manage.” You whisper back. Inching slowly towards him.

Felix stops just before you could kiss him, smiling at the way you frown. “I was talking to myself.”

Hyunjin— beside you, 116 wc | fluff (?)

Hyunjin glares darts into the person whose arm was around you from across the room. A piercing gaze that has bystanders inching away from the scene, clearing a path when he makes his way toward you.

He leans close, whispering right into your ear. “You’re gonna settle for him?” He muses, “When you have me?” He grins when you turn your attention towards him instead and smiles politely at the person you were with before dragging you away.

“You’re so jealous. It's genuinely annoying.”

He hums, wrapping an arm around you. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart,” he pressed a kiss to your temple, drinking in the flustered expression that came from it. “It’s just you and I.”

Changbin— i swear i’ll never leave again, 128 wc | hurt/comfort

He regrets not being grateful for the messages, your daily reminders for him to take care of himself just as much as he did his members. The pack of sticky notes he never remembers packing were filled with sweet words from you.

He goes through them now, even when you're on the other side of the door, waiting for him to finish packing his things. He doesn’t want to leave.

The first thing you see when he opens it are the tears that are building in his eyes and the quiver of his lips when you move to hold him.

So this was love. The aching, the yearning, and the heartbreak. Changbin wanted all of it. He wanted all of you. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

ot8, your choice— drunk, 145 wc | angst

It happens again. Another after-party, another night of watching your friends get drunk, another night of seeing him being happy without you.

You see him across the room, laughing it up with one of his friends, nursing a cup of whatever miscellaneous alcohol they were serving. Maybe it was an espresso martini, he likes his coffee just as much as he did his booze. He thanked the person who created it.

Later that night, you find yourself thinking about him while staring at the ceiling. Had he found someone new? Someone who could give him the same adrenaline you had when you first got together. Was he thinking of you just as much as you were thinking of him?

You turn on your side, cringing at the wet feeling of tears pressing against your cheek. Did he find it hard to move on like you?

a/n: i was actually going to make Felix’s sad instead of Lino but, maybe next time.

[stinkw333d]

TAY vs. GRE

(five year old Jackie Taylor finds her love for soccer after a nightmare about The Gremlins) WC: 2,779

Jackie Taylor has loved soccer for as long as she, or probably anyone else, can remember. If she had to pinpoint a moment though, her true love for it must have started when she was five or so, and she started having nightmares.

For the record, she didn’t even HAVE nightmares until that dumb sleepover where dumb Shauna made her watch that DUMB movie about those… frog goblin things? what were they called? She didn’t even WANT to watch that, she wanted to watch Sleeping Beauty, but Shauna HATES that one, and they were at HER house, and Shauna’s mom rented it from blockbuster FOR THEIR SLEEPOVER, so they watched the stupid frog movie. Anyways, Jackie Taylor, after a nightmare of being shocked awake by a… Froglin? Would tiptoe as silently as a five and a half year old could muster, from her bedroom, sneak over to the far side of the Taylor home’s grand split staircase, crane her neck in between the balcony railings, and listen.

Most little girls would seek out their mothers in situations such as these, but Jackie, as young as she is, already knows Mrs. Taylor couldn’t be roused if a marching band were in her bedroom. Mr. Taylor is a much lighter sleeper, and if Jackie had any luck, her mother’s Benzo-induced snoring has already disturbed his rest.

Listen… Listen… she closes her eyes to concentrate… listen… YES! She hears a faint, was that a whistle coming from downstairs? Weird, it’s usually the news or a laugh track. Regardless, she tiptoes down the carpeted stairs, past the foyer, the kitchen, and through the long dark hallway leading to her father’s office.

The trek down the cavernous hallway would be terrifying after the nightmare she’d just had, if not for the soft blue glow at the end. She finds her way to the doorway, it’s not completely shut, but just barely cracked open. Fudge.

She listens again, and hears the sound of men’s voices talking rapidly, of faint cheering, a whistle, she HAS to try the door now!

She uses just her index and middle finger to carefully crack the door further, hoping she doesn’t push far enough for it to creak. Bingo! She can see at least half of the screen, which is usually all she needs. She sees men on the screen darting around, some in blue shirts, some in white, and the grass they’re running on is crowded with people screaming in the stands, adorned in mostly red and blue. She also sees a box on the corner of the screen that reads “FRA- 1, POR- 2” with a blue blob next to one and a red one next to the other. These must be teams. She’s seen a scene similar to this on the living room TV at Shauna’s house, but she knew that was basketball, and this wasn’t. They were outside on grass, not inside on shiny wood floors, which seemed like a much nicer place to run around and sweat. Jackie was also pretty sure they were using their feet to pass the ball around, not their hands. Weird. There was also a noticeable absence of that annoying squeaking that’s ever-present in a game of basketball. The only sound was excited mens voices, and the cheering of the crowd, much easier to focus on what the men chasing the ball were doing.

Mr. Taylor has loved soccer since he was a young boy, having played only through highschool, (buzz buzz buzz Yellowjackets,) but he’s been to 3 professional matches at this point in his life. He roots for Germany, as that’s where his side of the family came from however many years ago, but will watch any game he can find. Cursed to living in America by his ancestors, he has to creep out of his marital bed in the wee hours of the morning to enjoy the beautiful game. He’s currently enjoying a match between France and Portugal. It’s the UEFA Euro semifinals, and he’s rooting for France. The game has been slower than he’d hoped, no matter, he’s got his cigars and sherry to pass the time. The time on screen reads 104:57, and Portugal is up, and France just missed a goal HE could have made. He groans, and leans forward to refill his glass.

Jackie hears her father’s chair, hidden behind the door, creak as he stands up. She ducks back out of view, and listens again for the familiar sound of one, two three steps to the bar cart, a glass cork slipping out of its place, liquid pouring, the replacing of the cork, and one, two, three steps back to his enormous chair. She waits five seconds, and adjusts back to her place, daring to crack the door further to see the full picture. “Yes, still no creaking!” The men stop running for a moment as a man in a striped shirt walks up waving his arms. He makes some sort of announcement, and a man in a blue shirt picks the ball up with his hands, which is weird because they’d only been using their feet up until now, and places it on a white line at the edge of the grass. He kicks it as hard as he can, and it sails over the heads of the men in white shirts to a group of blue shirted ones. One gets the ball, using his feet again, Jackie notes, and starts racing toward a big net (much easier to see than a basket on a stick) at one side of the field, now being chased by the men in white shirts. They catch up to him, stealing the ball and racing the other direction. Dang it!

She was rooting for blue, she decided quickly. Too much of her life was surrounded in pristine white. The tile floors in the bathrooms and kitchen, the cabinets, the walls, the wicker furniture chosen for her that furnishes her room. Her favorite color is pink, and not the soft rose pinks her mother prefers, REAL pink. Pink like bubblegum and troll doll hair. Even the OUTSIDE of her house was white, save for the green shutters. She doesn’t mind green either, she supposed. Shauna’s favorite color is green, and yellow and blue make green, so she’s rooting for the blue shirted men. Perfect logic in her mind.

Suddenly a blue-shirt gets the ball again, and once again kicks it to the goal they were aiming toward before. There’s a man in a different color shirt than the rest that’s been just standing there next to the net the whole time, “boring,” Jackie thinks, then he dives toward the ball, “oh he DOES do something…” but he doesn’t catch it like he’s probably supposed to. The ball slams into the netting, and the men in blue shirts, and the crowd around them, erupts. Jackie notices the number at the corner next to ‘FRA’ (that must be the blue guys) switch from one, to two, now both ‘FRA’ and ‘POR’ must have two points. Wait, there’s another set of numbers Jackie didn’t pay attention to at first. 105:58, no, 105:59, 106:00, what? They must have been changing the whole time then, and the other numbers didn’t until the net thing, 2-2 must be the points.

As she’s doing this quick mental math, she forgets she’s trying to be sneaky, and doesn’t hear her father also reacting to ‘FRA’ scoring a point.

Mr. Taylor leaps out of his chair with his hands raised! He jumps once, spins in a circle, and catches a glimpse of blond hair at knee level, just outside his office door. He stares for just a second, knowing he should do the responsible thing, and find his daughter out, and march her back to her room. He can just barely make out a glint in her eye though, the same glint he sees his favorite players get when being interviewed post game, and irresponsibly turns back around. The game is close to finished anyway, and they’re TIED now, he has to see it through.

Jackie freezes, she swears she’s making eye contact with her father right now, she’s SURE he saw her, but he turns back around after his moment of celebration and plops back into his seat. She stays frozen where she is, eyes still locked on the screen as she wonders why she didn’t get caught. She’d been caught in far less obvious ways, sometimes as she pushes the door open she accidentally goes too far and it creaks, or she yawns, or she swears her father can just smell that she’s there. She SWEARS their eyes had locked for just a second, and she was going to be sent back to ruminate on Frog- no, GREMLINS, THATS IT! GREMLINS, in her dark, dollhouse perfect room, but no. Her father has settled back in now, the top of his head just visible above plaid fabric.

So, she keeps watching as well. The men still darting, the announcers still babbling, the ball almost impossible to keep track of. She wonders how the men can run for this long, fall down and pop back up with hardly a thought. She wonders how they know when to kick the ball to one another, and how the other man knows it’s going to him. She wonders what the heck ‘FRA’ means, and how she’s never heard of them before. This is the best thing she’s ever seen, she decides. Better than Sleeping Beauty, even. She hadn’t been this excited over the color blue since seeing what she thought was the beta version of Aurora’s dress. Blue may be better than pink now…

The constant changing numbers read 111:27 when one of her blue shirted men aims for the goal again, and sends it flying far over the net. “Isn’t he supposed to be the best of the best at this? She’s pretty sure SHE could have kicked that one in! The white shirt guy was barely touching him!”

113:10, the white shirts have the ball again, the blue shirts get it back! He’s running, he passes, HE’S running, he passes again, she wishes she knew their names, she wishes she could get closer to the screen. Her father rises again to pour another glass, and she can’t force herself to hide away, she’ll lose the ball!

Mr. Taylor pretends not to notice her, again.

115:17 she wonders how high these numbers will go, more passing, the men seem extra serious at this point. She watches intently as the teams of men fight over this ball with everything they’ve got. Her eyes are glued to the screen and she’s desperately trying to keep track of which man wearing which color has control of it.

At 117:20 a blue shirt almost makes it again, but the boring guy in the net catches it. He does the same long kick of the ball she saw one of her blue shirt men perform earlier, and even though this man is in green, she knows he’s on the white shirt mens team. She watches the men scramble as it lands, and even though she knows he was probably aiming for a white shirt, a blue shirt man gets the ball. “yes!” He starts racing toward the goal, all the other men at his heels. The man with the ball is surrounded by the other team, and he passes to his fellow blue shirt, who launches the ball past the green-white shirt man! And all of her wonderful blue shirt men cheer together! And the crowd erupts! And the announcers, and her father, and her! All whooping together!

“oh no.”

As quickly as the whoop left her lips she clamped her hands over her mouth and froze again. Her father, laughing, creaks the heavy door open, revealing his daughter crouched in her PJ’s just outside his doorway.

Jackie’s father looks down at Jackie, beaming, “Wasn’t that something!” he says, crouching down to eye level.

“You aren’t mad I’m awake?” Jackie blurts, stunned at her father’s demeanor.

“You are up awfully late for a school night, or, early maybe?” he wonders, glancing at the grandmother clock; that used to belong to his actual grandmother, it reads 2:47. That still counts as late, he decides.

“I had another Frogli- GREMLIN nightmare,” she complains. Mr. Taylor crouches to pick his daughter up to rest on his hip.

“And what were the gremlins doing now?” he asks, sitting them both in his chair.

“It was a bunch of them, this time, and I was at Shauna’s house, and you know how her basement is all scary and ours isnt?”

“I recall you mentioned it was scary, yes.”

“Well! In my dream Shauna dared me to go down there, even though SHE’S too afraid to go down there!” she catches her breath, “And there was like, a thousand gremlins down there and they all looked at me, and started running at me on the stairs and I couldn’t move and then I think I got so scared I woke up.” she finishes.

“That is scary,” Mr. Taylor agrees. “Is that why you came down to finish this soccer game with me?”

Jackie’s face lights up, “Thats what that’s called?”

Mr. Taylor nods.

“I sort of liked watching it. It was better than the news or dumb basketball anyway.” It occurs to her to be embarrassed that she liked a sport. Her mother would hate that.

“It seems like you enjoyed it quite a bit, if you were so excited by a game you didn’t know the name of.”

“I liked that it’s not as squeaky as basketball,” Jackie admits, “and that they can run really fast since they’re outside!”

“Did you hope the blue team would win, like me?” Her father asks further.

Jackie nods, “Well blue is a way better color than white, white is boring, that’s why our house is so BORING!”

Mr. Taylor chuckles, “Yes, your mother has simpler aesthetic tastes than you or I do,” he muses, glancing at the rich dark wood, the burgundy’s and emeralds he’s decorated his sanctuary with.

“Would you want to play soccer?” he continues, thrilled that his daughter that they thought would be a son seems to be sharing his deeply European, and therefore isolating, passion.

Jackie beams, “Could I??” she asks, equally as excited as her father. Could she? Could the two of them convince her mother to let her participate in a pastime so, boyish?

“Of course! Your mother will survive,” as if reading Jackie’s mind, “There are professional women’s soccer teams as well. I could watch you make a goal like that in this very chair one day.” He smiles, poking the tip of Jackie’s nose.

Jackie asks more questions. Why do they use their feet? Then why can they pick it up with their hands sometimes? Why is that boring guy in the net all the time? And why is he in a different shirt? And what’s ‘FRA and POR?’

Mr. Taylor answers with as much passion and rapidity as his daughter asks. Jackie has long forgotten her Gremlin nightmare, and the adrenaline from both the dream and the game flush out of her system as she and her father bond. Her eyes grow heavy again, and her father carries her back up the stairs to her bedroom. He lays her in strawberry print sheets, kisses her forehead, and closes the door behind him. As he retires back to his room, he knows he won’t be able to fall back asleep. His wife is snoring like a freight train still; and his daughter, that until this point had been all pink and bows and princesses, shares his passion for the game no one within 2,000 miles of him could spare a second thought for.

Jackie Taylor continues to have Gremlin related dreams for the next two weeks, until one night, as the swarm of them is rushing toward her from the bottom of Shauna’s basement, a soccer ball appears in front of her. She makes like her blue shirt french men, and kicks the ball as hard as she can, bowling them all down, defeating them at last! Jackie Taylor wakes up, after finally sleeping through the night, and she decides then that she will love soccer for the rest of her life.

[underburningstars]

drift 17

for @jegulus-microfic prompt want, wc 104

James is a greedy person. He was spoiled by his parents since he was young, and most of the time, he got whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.

He doesn't ask things from his parents anymore, but he's still greedy. There is still a lot that he wants.

He wants to hold Regulus' hand, he wants to kiss him, he wants to taste his skin, he wants to feel their bodies pressed together, he wants to go on dates with him, he wants to play slow music and dance with him. He wants all of Regulus and wants to give Regulus all of him.

previous | next

[matechwithmuhammadali]

Anthony Edwards PROPELS The Timberwolves Into Game 7! 👀| May 16, 2024

The Minnesota Timberwolves defeated the Denver Nuggets in Game 6 of the Western Conference Semifinals, 115-70, to even the series, 3-3. Anthony Edwards led the Timberwolves with 27 points, 4 rebounds, and 4 assists as Jaden McDaniels added 21 points and 4 rebounds. Nikola Jokic led the Nuggets with 22 points and 9 rebounds. Game 7 will take place on Sunday, May 19. Point Differential Notes 45 points marks the second largest win in a Game 6 in NBA history. Previously, 54 points on April 30, 2015 in a game which the Bulls defeated the Bucks, 120-66. This was the biggest win in Minnesota’s Playoff franchise history, previously: 26 points in Game 2 of this series on May 6 (106-80). This was the eighth largest postseason win ever. Game 7 History for Minnesota and Denver Minnesota: 1-0 in Game 7 history – WC Semifinals in 2004 on May 19, 2004, defeated SAC 83-80. Denver: 4-3 in Game 7 history – Most recently, a win in the 2020 Semifinals on Sep. 15, 2020, at LAC (in the NBA bubble) – 104-89 win The only Game 7 that MIN ever played was on May 19, 2004. A game vs the Sacramento Kings in the 2004 Semifinals. This series will have a Game 7 that is 20 years to the day of that game. Ancillary Notes: Flip Saunders was MIN head coach His son, Ryan Saunders is an assistant coach with Denver this season Elston Turner was an assistant coach with the Sacramento Kings He’s an assistant coach with the Minnesota Timberwolves this season

FULL VIDEO

[cluelesspigeons]

Cp’s drarry microfic masterlist

December 2022

✨December 2nd: Thunderstorm ✨

Prompt: thunder

Wc: 95

Most important tags: night / thunder / thunderstorm / mountains / deep sleeper draco

✨ December 6th: Somewhere in London ✨

Prompt (song): Somewhere In Brooklyn by Bruno Mars

Wc: 117

Most important tags: crowd / paranoia / Piccadilly Circus / London

✨ December 9th: Favourite word ✨

Prompt: wow

Wc: 90

Most important tags: Scorpius malfoy / toddler / parents drarry / new favourite word

✨ December 13th: The smallest gesture ✨

Prompt (song): This December by Ricky Montgomery

Wc: 94

Most important tags: implied depression / small gesture / taking care of each other

✨ December 16th: Alright ✨

Prompt (song): The Light by Sara Bareilles

Wc: 143

Most important tags: gloomy winter day/ tea / blanket / implied mpreg

✨ December 20th: Evenfall ✨

Prompt: evenfall

Wc: 104

Most important tags: vampire drarry / implied drinking of human blood

✨ December 23rd: Mother’s idea ✨

Prompt: choir

Wc: 88

Most important tags: established drarry / young draco singing in a choir / photos

✨ December 30th: High on the grass ✨

Prompt (song): Champagne Supernova by Oasis

Wc: 133

Most important tags: drug use / weed / hogwarts eighth year

✨ January masterlist ✨

✨ February masterlist ✨

✨ March masterlist ✨

✨ April masterlist ✨

✨ May masterlist ✨

✨ June masterlist ✨

✨ July masterlist ✨

✨ August masterlist ✨

✨ September masterlist ✨

✨ October masterlist ✨

✨ November masterlist ✨

[cricketbazaar]

Batsman who scored the fastest Century in T20I World Cups 

The T20I World Cup provides a big platform for batters to do their best. In 2026, India will host another ICC event. India would definitely want to perform well in the upcoming ICC matches. In the history of T20I World cup editions, only few batsmen smashed centuries in this marquee tournament. In this list we look at the big names of world cricket i.e. Suresh Raina, Brendon Mccullum, Chris Gayle & others. But do you know who has the record of fastest century in the T20I World cup ? Today we are going to tell you about those 6 batsmen who smashed the fastest century in this marquee ICC Tournament. 

6. Suresh Raina (59 balls hundred VS South Africa in 2010)

India’s Former Left-Hand batsman Suresh Raina is the only Indian batsman who has a century in ICC T20I World Cups. He scored 101 runs against South Africa in just 60 balls. He completed his hundred in 59 balls including 9 fours & 5 sixes. Due to Raina's innings, India batted first and scored 186/5, in response to which the African team was all out for just 172 runs. India won this match by 14 runs. 

5. Ahmed Shehzad (58 balls hundred VS Bangladesh in 2014)

Pakistan’s Former Opening batsman Ahmed Shehzad has the 5th fastest hundred record in T20I WCs. In T20I World Cup 2014, he scored 111 runs in 62 balls against host Bangladesh. He completed his century in just 58 balls including 10 fours & 5 sixes. Due to this terrific knock, Pakistan won this match by 50 runs. Ahmed Shehzad is the only Pakistani batsman who has a century in ICC T20I WCs.

4. Rilee Rossouw (52 balls hundred VS Bangladesh in 2022) 

South Africa’s aggressive batsman Rilee Rossouw has the 4th fastest hundred record in T20I WCs. In T20I World Cup 2022, he scored 109 runs in 56 balls against Bangladesh. He smashed 7 fours & 8 sixes in his innings where his century completed in 52nd ball. He got good support from Quinton de Kock during the innings. Together they made a partnership of 168 runs for 2nd wicket. At the end, South Africa won this match by 104 runs. 

3. Brendon Mccullum (51 balls hundred VS Bangladesh in 2012)

Brendon Mccullum, New Zealand’s Former Captain & one of the most aggressive batsmen ever in cricket world, has the 3rd fastest hundred record in T20I WC. He scored 123 runs in just 58 balls against Bangladesh. In his innings, he smashed 11 fours & 7 sixes while his  century completed in 51 balls. Due to this extraordinary innings, New Zealand won this match by 59 runs.     

2. Chris Gayle (50 balls hundred VS South Africa in 2007)

This was the 1st ever match played between host SA and WI in 2007 T20I WC. In this Match, Chris Gayle scored 117 runs in 57 balls including 7 fours & 10 sixes while his century completed in 50 balls. Due to Gayle storm, West Indies batted first and scored 205/6. But Hershelle Gibbs’s not out 90 runs innings spoiled his innings.

1. Chris Gayle (47 balls hundred VS England in 2016)

Chris Gayle also has the record of fastest century in T20I World Cups. He scored 100 runs in 47 balls including 5 fours & 11 sixes in wankhede stadium in 2016 WC. Due to Gayle’s wonderful knock, West Indies chased 183 runs target comfortably. In his innings, Gayle remained not out at the end. He just smashed English bowlers. Interestingly, before this game Gayle was fully out of form but in this game indian fans got one of the best T20I innings by universe boss. 

[cabinetlevytahiti]

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