giibsieclaire

Latest Posts by giibsieclaire

literally need a man like them

how would bllk react to reader making them lunch for their practice?? would love to see it <3

Making Them Lunch For Practice

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] bllk 11 . isagi . rin . nagi . bachira . reo . barou . yukimiya . otoya . karasu . niko . aryu . chigiri . gagamaru . raichi . hiori . nanase .

- [𝐩:𝐬] long writing . cute headcanons . boyfriend blue lock >>>>

Note: These stories came out much cuter than I had expected 😭Also I LOVE the idea of giving the boys food before/after practice. And they honestly deserve it so much too!!

Isagi Yoichi

The morning sunlight poured through the kitchen window in soft golden rays as you packed up the final touches of Isagi’s lunch. The bento box was filled with all his favorites—grilled teriyaki chicken with sesame seeds, a neat pile of tamagoyaki, sticky white rice shaped into little soccer balls with nori patterns, and even a tiny corner for strawberries you’d carved into roses. You’d woken up extra early to get it all just right.

The moment he shuffled into the kitchen, hair still messy from sleep, your heart gave that little flutter it always did when he looked at you like you were his whole world.

"Good morning, Yoichi!" you chirped, hiding the bento behind your back.

He blinked blearily, then smiled when he saw you. “Morning, babe. You’re up early... whatcha hiding?” His tone was playful, suspicious.

You pulled the bento out like a magician revealing their final trick. "Ta-da! Lunch for my star striker."

His eyes widened, then softened into the kind of expression that made you melt—a warm, slightly crooked smile, the kind he wore only when he was overflowing with affection.

“No way,” he whispered, stepping closer. “You made that… for me?”

You nodded. “You’ve been working so hard lately. I wanted to make sure you had something homemade today. Fuel for the future World Cup hero.”

He looked at the bento, then at you. Then again at the bento. “This looks… insane. It’s so perfect I almost don’t wanna eat it. Almost.”

You handed it to him, and he cradled it like it was something precious. He leaned in, kissed your forehead, then your cheek. “You’re the best, you know that? I’m gonna score today with this energy. For you.”

Later that afternoon, when the team took a break, Isagi sat down, popped open the lid, and was immediately the target of jealous stares.

“No way—Isagi, that’s homemade?” Bachira peered over his shoulder like a curious raccoon. “Can I marry them too?”

Isagi shielded the lunch protectively, cheeks red but proud. “Back off. This is power-up food. You don’t mess with power-up food.”

As he ate, he took slow, thoughtful bites, tasting every little effort you'd poured into it. In that quiet moment, surrounded by teammates yelling and the distant thud of soccer balls, he felt grounded, loved. Reinvigorated. Every bite reminded him what he was fighting for.

That night, he sent you a selfie with a thumbs up and grass in his hair.

“Scored twice today. Guess who I was thinking about every time I aimed?”

Rin Itoshi

Rin wasn’t the kind of boyfriend who asked for much. He was quiet, intense, and fully immersed in his obsession with becoming the best striker in the world. But you saw the cracks in the armor—the subtle signs of stress, the dark circles under his eyes, the way his jaw clenched after practice when he thought no one was watching.

So, today, you decided to do something for him.

You made his bento with a quiet kind of love. Rin liked clean, balanced flavors—nothing too heavy. So you cooked salmon with lemon and herbs, roasted vegetables on the side, and soba noodles with a light sesame dressing. You added two little onigiri with umeboshi, shaped into tiny hearts. He would roll his eyes at that… but not really. Deep down, he’d like it.

You made your way to the training facility just as the sun started to climb. The field was already buzzing with movement. You found Rin stretching on the sidelines, alone, headphones in, brows drawn tight. Even in the chaos, he always seemed a little apart—untouchable.

You approached slowly and tapped his shoulder.

He turned, pulling out an earbud, and his expression shifted instantly from stern focus to a more relaxed surprise. “What are you doing here?”

You smiled, holding up the lunch bag. “Thought I’d drop something off before practice.”

His eyes flicked to the bag, then back to you. “You made that?”

You nodded. “Didn’t want you running on vending machine sandwiches again.”

He reached out for the lunch, fingers brushing yours just slightly longer than necessary. His voice was low. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” you said. “But I wanted to.”

For a second, Rin didn’t say anything. He just looked at you, the corners of his eyes softening. He wasn't good with words, but this was one of those moments where the silence between you both said everything.

At break time, when he sat down alone near the bench and opened the bento, he actually paused.

Heart-shaped onigiri.

He gave the tiniest huff of a laugh, barely audible. Anyone else would’ve thought he was annoyed. But he wasn’t. It made his chest feel warm in a way that almost hurt.

He ate in peace, thinking about you. Thinking about how much steadier he felt today. How the food reminded him of something he didn’t often let himself dwell on: comfort, and care, and a sense of home. You were becoming all of that to him.

Later, when he got back to his apartment, you were already there, curled up on the couch.

He placed the empty bento box beside you and sat wordlessly next to you, his arm sliding around your waist.

After a while, he said quietly, “You made me feel... full today. Not just the food.”

You rested your head against his shoulder. “Good. That was the point.”

And in the rare warmth of his post-practice peace, Rin didn’t need to say he loved you. It was in the way he leaned into your touch, relaxed for once, just breathing you in.

Nagi Seishiro

Practice was brutal today. The sun loomed high, scorching the field, and sweat clung to every player's skin like a second layer. Nagi was sprawled lazily across the grass during break, one arm slung over his eyes to block out the light.

Everything felt like such a hassle — running drills, playing scrimmages, even standing up felt like climbing a mountain.

Until he heard the soft crunch of shoes against the grass nearby.

Peeking from under his arm, he saw you, standing there awkwardly, a shy smile on your face and a small, neatly packed bento box cradled in your hands. You knelt down next to him, the scent of something warm and savory immediately teasing his senses.

“Sei… I made you lunch for practice,” you murmured, holding it out toward him.

For a second, he just stared. His silver hair clung slightly to his forehead, and his golden eyes widened — not dramatically, but enough that you caught the rare flicker of surprise there.

"You made this... for me?" he said, voice low and lazy as always, but laced with something different — a softness that made your heart flip.

He sat up slowly, as if in a daze, and accepted the box from your hands. His fingers brushed yours — clumsy, warm, and lingering longer than necessary.

He opened the lid and blinked.

Inside, it wasn’t anything fancy: rice shaped into little onigiri, some grilled chicken, rolled omelet slices, and even a few heart-shaped carrot pieces tucked carefully at the side.

"...Such a hassle," he muttered under his breath — but there was no bite to it. None at all.

In fact, he looked at the lunch as if it was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen.

Nagi leaned back against the grass, pulling you with him so you sat between his legs. He rested his chin lazily on your shoulder, poking at the food with his chopsticks.

"You're... really nice to me," he mumbled, a bit drowsily, "Too nice."

He fed himself a bite, and his eyes closed immediately as he savored it. A low, pleased hum rumbled from his throat, like a cat curling into sunlight.

“Mm… tastes better ‘cause it’s from you.”

He tilted his head against yours, letting his heavy body lean almost completely on you, as if he trusted you to hold him up.

Nagi didn't need grand words. His affection lived in small things — the way he fed you a bite next, murmuring "open," or the way he let you steal his water bottle later, pretending not to notice how his cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink.

That lunch break, you weren't just his s/o.

You were his comfort, his peace, his favorite kind of "not a hassle."

And he made sure you knew it, even if it was only through the lazy way his hand never left yours for the rest of the day.

Bachira Meguru

The training grounds buzzed with energy — players laughing, balls thudding against nets, coaches barking instructions. Bachira was, as always, a chaotic blur, weaving between players during scrimmage with that wild, fearless grin that made him seem half-dream, half-nightmare to anyone trying to block him.

When the break whistle finally sounded, he jogged toward the benches, sweat sticking his messy hair to his forehead. He looked around immediately, almost instinctively searching for you.

When he spotted you standing there — lunch bag dangling from your fingers, eyes bright and excited — his face lit up instantly.

"Y/N!!!" he called, waving his arms dramatically over his head as he sprinted toward you, practically knocking over a cone on the way. A few of his teammates chuckled at his antics.

You barely had time to brace yourself before Bachira threw his arms around you, spinning you in a little circle before setting you down, laughing.

"You brought me something??" he asked, eyes gleaming with pure childlike wonder.

"Yeah," you said, a little breathless from his enthusiasm. You held out the bag. "I thought you might need some fuel!"

Bachira gasped as if you'd handed him a treasure chest.

"You’re the best! The BEST best!!" he sang, bouncing on his toes as he grabbed the bag. He dropped to the grass immediately, cross-legged, unpacking it with all the care of a kid opening presents on Christmas morning.

Inside was a box packed with fun, colorful foods — little sandwiches with funny faces drawn on them with seaweed, mini skewers of fruit, tiny octopus-shaped sausages. A lunch full of surprises, just like him.

"Woaaah!! Look!! They’re smiling!!!" he giggled, showing off one of the sandwich faces to his teammate as if it were a trophy. "Y/N made it!!!"

He grabbed a sandwich, took a huge bite, and immediately threw his head back with a loud, delighted groan.

"SO GOOD!!! IT'S Y/N-FLAVORED!!!" he shouted.

You nearly choked on your own spit. "That's not — that’s not how you say it—!"

But Bachira just laughed and patted the grass next to him until you sat down too.

As he ate, he kept sneaking glances at you, eyes soft and glittering, lips curled into the most genuine, easy smile. Every few bites, he'd lean against your shoulder, humming happily.

After he finished nearly the whole box in record time, he turned to you, sandwich crumbs still stuck to his cheek.

"You know," he said, voice softer now, "when you do stuff like this... it makes my monster real happy."

You blinked. "Your monster?"

He nodded seriously, tapping his chest. "The part of me that wants to play, that wants to keep moving forward — it gets even louder when you're around. 'Cause you're my favorite person. You're the one who sees me."

You didn't even have time to respond before he tackled you into a messy hug, knocking you both into the grass, laughing.

The afternoon sun burned golden above you. And in that moment, in Bachira’s arms, hearing his laughter rumble through your back, you realized something:

You hadn’t just given him food.

You’d given him joy. You'd become part of the very thing that made him run so fearlessly across the field.

Reo Mikage

At first, Reo hadn’t even noticed you arriving. He was too busy — barking plays at teammates, that sharp glint in his eye, moving with a natural grace that made it clear: Reo Mikage didn’t just play soccer, he commanded it.

But when his gaze swept across the field mid-break and landed on you — standing there in casual clothes, holding a sleek, pastel-colored lunch box in your hands — everything else faded into static.

He immediately jogged over, ignoring the coach's call for a quick team huddle, towel slung over his neck, sweat shining on his forehead. His violet hair was messy, sticking to his skin in a way that made him look both devastatingly handsome and ridiculously approachable at the same time.

"You... came?" he said, breathless, a tiny, rare note of uncertainty in his voice.

"I made you lunch," you said simply, lifting the box.

Reo stared at it, blinking once. Twice.

"You made it yourself?"

You nodded, a little shy. "Yeah. Thought it might help you out."

He exhaled a low, almost disbelieving laugh — like he couldn’t believe someone would choose to do something so earnest for him.

“God, you’re incredible,” he murmured under his breath, before taking the box from your hands like it was made of glass.

He led you to a bench in the shade, wiping his hands with his towel before peeling open the lid. His eyes widened — you had packed everything meticulously: truffle rice balls (you remembered he liked a little luxury), grilled teriyaki chicken, pickled vegetables, and a few tiny sweets tucked into the corner for afters.

"You… remembered all my favorites," he said, voice thick with something heavier than gratitude. "You’re gonna spoil me."

He picked up a bite with his chopsticks, chewing thoughtfully. As the flavors melted on his tongue, his head tilted back slightly, and he let out the softest, most genuine sound you’d ever heard from him — a sound of complete bliss.

Then he turned that dazzling, megawatt grin on you.

"You’re dangerous," he said, resting his elbow on his knee and leaning toward you with lazy, flirtatious ease. "If you keep doing stuff like this, I’ll have to marry you."

He was joking — kind of. But you caught the way his cheeks flushed slightly pink under the midday sun.

Before you could answer, Reo leaned in, kissed your forehead, and whispered:

“Thank you, princess. I’ll make it up to you after practice.”

Later that night, he sent you dozens of texts planning your next date, determined to outdo your thoughtfulness with something that would leave you speechless instead.

Because Mikage Reo didn’t just receive love. He matched it, multiplied it, and sent it back tenfold.

Barou Shoei

Barou was the picture of intensity on the field — a storm wrapped in a man’s body, every move sharp and decisive. His presence was so overwhelming, sometimes people flinched just trying to meet his gaze.

You stood at the edge of the practice grounds, lunch bag clutched to your chest, heart hammering. How would he react? Would he even accept it?

When break was called, Barou stalked toward the sidelines, towel over his shoulder, glaring at the ground as if daring it to challenge him. He barely noticed you at first — until he caught your familiar scent carried on the breeze.

He stopped dead in his tracks, lifting his head.

You stepped forward nervously. "Shouei... I made you lunch."

The entire world seemed to go silent.

He stared. His red eyes locked onto yours — intense, unblinking — and for one terrifying moment, you thought you’d made a mistake.

Then, wordlessly, he closed the distance between you.

His hand — big, calloused, and impossibly gentle — took the lunch bag from yours.

He opened it without a word, revealing a sturdy bento box filled with hearty food: thick-cut beef with rice, roasted vegetables, a miso soup flask on the side, and a small, clumsy hand-written note tucked between the layers.

"Eat up, King. You deserve it."

Barou’s brows twitched. He picked up the note, holding it like it was made of precious metal.

He cleared his throat, glancing around to make sure no one was paying too much attention, before sitting heavily on the bench nearby. You hesitated, but he shot you a glare — not a mean one, but the kind that said: Don’t even think about leaving.

He dug into the food without fanfare, biting into the beef first.

A beat of silence.

Then a low, pleased rumble vibrated from deep in his chest, almost like a growl.

"This is... good," he muttered gruffly, eyes lowered like he didn’t want you to see the way they softened.

You smiled, cheeks burning.

Barou ate quickly, efficiently, every so often glancing at you like he still couldn’t believe you had taken the time to do this for him. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, stood up, and loomed over you.

"You got guts, bringin’ somethin’ like this to me," he said, tone rough. But you could hear the pride underneath. "Good guts."

Then, awkwardly — very awkwardly — he ruffled your hair, so clumsily it almost knocked you backward.

"You’re mine," he said bluntly. "You got that?"

And before you could answer, Barou stalked off toward practice again, chest puffed out, moving like he had just scored a hat-trick — because deep down, he knew: no victory on the field could ever compare to winning your heart.

Yukimiya Kenyu

The sharp click of cleats on pavement echoed across the training center as Yukimiya wiped the sweat from his brow. Everything he did, he did with precision — from the clean dribble of his feet to the way he tied his hair up neatly after a scrimmage.

He moved with that serious, almost elegant grace that always made you want to watch him a little longer than you should.

And today, he was extra focused — his practices had been getting longer and harder, and you knew better than anyone that he pushed himself beyond exhaustion sometimes. That’s why you stood near the benches, holding a slim, stylish bento box — something you knew he would appreciate.

When Yukimiya spotted you, his steps faltered. His sharp, almost guarded eyes softened in an instant.

He approached, towel slung around his neck, posture still straight even as exhaustion weighed on him. His voice was low, a little surprised:

"You came all this way?"

You smiled and held out the bento.

"I made you something. Thought you could use a little break... and a little love."

The tips of Yukimiya’s ears turned pink — a detail so small, so fleeting, you might’ve missed it if you weren’t watching closely.

He accepted the box with a kind of reverence, like it was something priceless. Sitting down gracefully on the bench, he opened it carefully.

Inside, you had packed it beautifully: fresh salads with vinaigrette on the side, grilled fish, brown rice, slices of colorful fruit arranged like a painting. It looked healthy, but still indulgent — exactly what you knew he'd prefer.

Yukimiya set his chopsticks down for a moment, simply staring at it.

"You're... incredible," he said quietly, almost like he was speaking to himself. "Even the presentation is beautiful."

You sat beside him, a little shy.

Without a word, he picked up a piece of melon and held it up toward you.

"Say ah," he murmured, his lips curving in a soft, rare smile.

You blinked, heat rushing to your face, but you obeyed — and he laughed under his breath, his shoulders relaxing in a way that rarely happened during the tense, grueling days of training.

As he ate, he never once took his eyes off you — as if he was reminding himself that you were real, that this moment was real.

Between bites, he said softly:

"You're the only one who sees me like this... not as a player, not as a product... just me."

And when practice ended later, Yukimiya didn’t rush to leave. Instead, he pulled you gently into a hug, resting his forehead against yours, whispering:

"Stay close to me... okay?"

Because to him, you weren't just a break from reality. You were the only part of it he wanted to keep forever.

Otoya Eita

Otoya had been flirting shamelessly with his teammates during practice again — smirking, teasing, tossing careless winks like candy. It was part of his charm: that smooth, effortless charisma that could melt through defenses faster than any soccer tactic.

But the moment he caught sight of you standing near the fence, a small lunch bag in your hand, that playful mask slipped.

For just a heartbeat, his smile softened into something real.

He jogged over, running a hand through his tousled hair, his black earrings glinting under the sun.

"Yo, babe~" he drawled, flashing you that signature lazy grin. "Did you come just to watch me show off?"

You rolled your eyes, heart fluttering anyway.

"No, Eita," you said, holding up the bag. "I made you lunch."

That caught him off guard. His eyebrows shot up, a genuine, boyish surprise lighting up his whole face.

"For me?"

You nodded, pushing it into his hands. "Yeah. Thought you might need a little extra energy."

He stared at the bag, as if unsure he deserved it.

Otoya quickly masked the flicker of emotion with a smirk, but you saw it — the way his fingers clutched the handles tighter, how his gaze lingered on you with a rare intensity.

He pulled you into a quick, sneaky hug, murmuring into your hair:

"You're way too good to me, you know that?"

Otoya dragged you to sit with him on the grass, unwrapping the lunch like a kid unwrapping a birthday gift.

Inside, you had packed a bunch of fun, easy-to-eat foods: sandwiches cut into triangles, juicy karaage chicken bites, spicy mayo dip, and a few cookies you'd decorated sloppily with little hearts.

He laughed — this big, beautiful, real laugh — when he saw the cookies.

"You made these for me?" he said, mock-offended. "What if I get cavities, huh? Gonna pay my dental bills?"

But he popped one into his mouth without hesitation, chewing happily.

You sat next to him, basking in the late afternoon sun, the noise of practice fading into background static.

After a few bites, he leaned in close, bumping his forehead against yours.

"You're dangerous, babe," he whispered, lips brushing your ear. "Make me start thinking about things that aren't soccer."

His voice dropped lower, only for you to hear:

"Like how good you'd look sitting in my kitchen, making me breakfast in the morning."

You laughed, pushing him away playfully, cheeks burning — and he laughed too, catching your hand mid-air and bringing it to his lips for a quick, teasing kiss.

But behind all the flirting, you knew something real was blooming there — something a little scary, a little thrilling.

Because Otoya Eita was used to running.

And somehow, you were the one person he was sprinting toward.

Karasu Tabito

Training had been relentless today. Karasu’s shirt clung to him, black hair messy and sticking to his forehead, dark eyes sharp as ever as he lazily dribbled the ball between his feet even during breaks.

He was sharp, cocky — the kind of guy whose whole aura screamed "I don’t need anyone." And yet, the second he caught sight of you waiting by the benches, arms behind your back and a little nervous bounce to your step, something in him faltered.

He kicked the ball aside with casual precision and started walking toward you, every step slow, deliberate — the smirk playing at his lips giving nothing away.

"Yo," he said, voice low, almost teasing. "Came to see me break ankles, sweetheart?"

You rolled your eyes and held up a sleek black lunch box, matching his aesthetic a little too perfectly.

"I brought you lunch. Thought you could use it... since you're out here pretending you're invincible or whatever."

For a split second — and it was so fast you almost missed it — Karasu's cocky front slipped. His eyes widened, blinking once. Then he chuckled under his breath, that deep, rough sound you loved so much.

"You're dangerous," he muttered, more to himself than to you.

He sat down right there on the grass, patting the spot beside him without a word. When you sat, he immediately pulled the box open.

Inside, you'd packed some high-protein onigiri, grilled chicken, pickled sides, and a few extra things you knew he liked — even tucked in a mini dessert. Nothing too flashy, but thoughtful. Personal.

Karasu stared at the food, silent.

Then he said, quietly:

"You know me too well."

He ate slowly at first, savoring it — and every once in a while, he'd glance sideways at you, like he couldn't believe you were real.

"You didn't have to do this," he murmured between bites. "I mean... I can take care of myself."

You shrugged, trying to play it off. "Maybe I want to take care of you sometimes."

That shut him up fast.

For once, Karasu didn't have a smartass comment ready. He just stared at you, mouth slightly open, chopsticks frozen mid-air.

Finally, he set them down, turned fully toward you, and leaned in — not smirking, not teasing — just... looking at you with this rare, intense sincerity.

"You’re lucky I’m crazy about you," he said, voice low, rough around the edges. "Otherwise, I'd never let anyone see me this soft."

And when practice resumed, Karasu played sharper, faster — like he had something more precious to protect now. Because he did. He had you.

Niko Ikki

Niko wasn't flashy. Where others shouted, flexed, and demanded attention, he operated like a ghost on the field — quiet, tactical, always watching.

Which made him pretty good at noticing things others missed. Like you, standing by the fence, nervously adjusting the strap of the small cooler bag you brought.

His green eyes caught yours almost instantly. He hesitated, brushing the hair from his face awkwardly, then jogged over, wiping his hands on his shorts.

"Y/N?" he asked, voice soft, a little breathless.

You held up the bag, heart hammering. "I... made you lunch. For after practice. If you want it."

Niko froze. Like, actually froze.

You could see the gears turning in his head, short-circuiting. Was this some dream? A prank? Did he accidentally hit his head during drills?

"You made this... for me?"

You nodded.

Slowly — so slowly, it was almost shy — Niko reached out and took the bag from your hands. His fingers brushed yours, and his ears immediately turned a vivid pink.

He led you over to the edge of the field, sitting on the grass cross-legged, handling the bag like it was fragile.

Opening it carefully, he found a simple, cozy meal: Tamago (egg) sandwiches, some homemade rice crackers, a few veggie sticks, and a neatly wrapped banana muffin for dessert. Nothing extravagant — but every part of it screamed "I know you."

Niko stared at the food. Then at you. Then back at the food.

You watched him, worried.

"Is it okay? I didn't know what you usually eat for practice days, so I kinda guessed—"

"It's perfect," he interrupted, voice so soft it almost got swallowed by the breeze.

He took a small, careful bite of the sandwich, chewing slowly.

And then — The tiniest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Barely there. Fleeting. But real.

"This... feels like a dream," he muttered, half to himself. "No one's ever done something like this for me before."

You blinked. "Really?"

He shook his head, still smiling that barely-there smile that made your chest ache a little.

"...You're special," he said simply. "You always make me feel like I'm worth noticing."

And as the other players called him back to drills, Niko stood slowly, setting the box aside for later, but not before gently — awkwardly — patting your head in thanks.

He jogged back onto the field with a little more spring in his step. Like somehow, your lunch had fueled more than just his body. It had fueled his heart.

Aryu Jyubei

Even in the middle of grueling practice, Aryu was… well, Aryu. Perfect posture. Every movement clean, elegant, as if he were modeling instead of sprinting drills.

You stood off to the side, nervously holding a gorgeous, ribbon-wrapped bento box you had painstakingly designed to look good — because you knew, with Aryu, it was always about beauty.

When he finally caught sight of you, his silver hair catching the sunlight like a halo, his entire demeanor shifted.

He slowed down, almost like he was gliding across the field rather than walking.

When he reached you, he smiled — dazzling, flawless — brushing imaginary dust off his jersey before he spoke.

"My lovely," he said smoothly, voice like honey. "Is this a gift for me?"

You nodded, a little breathless, and held out the lunchbox.

"I made you lunch. I tried to make it... you know... aesthetically pleasing, too."

Aryu's lavender eyes widened ever so slightly — a flicker of real surprise. He took the box from your hands with exaggerated care, like it was an ancient artifact, holding it delicately between long fingers.

"You tailored it... for my beauty standards," he said softly, his voice dropping a few octaves. "You're too perfect."

He moved to a shaded bench and beckoned you to join him with a graceful tilt of his head. Sitting with one leg elegantly crossed over the other, he opened the box slowly.

Inside? You had arranged everything meticulously: — Color-coordinated vegetables, — Heart-shaped tamagoyaki, — Rice balls with edible flower petals pressed into them, — Grilled salmon cut into neat, symmetrical strips.

It looked like something out of a high-end magazine shoot.

Aryu's lips parted slightly in amazement.

"This..." he whispered. "This is art."

You sat down beside him, heart hammering.

He took a bite, still poised and elegant — and then he actually closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the taste. When he opened them again, his gaze locked onto you with something deeper than gratitude — something raw, real.

"You nourish my soul," he said seriously, resting a hand lightly over his heart. "You nourish my beauty."

Then — and you swear your heart actually stopped — Aryu reached out and gently, so gently, tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"Perfect," he murmured under his breath, almost like he was talking to himself.

From that day on, he posted about your lunches online (with your permission) — captioning them with things like, "True beauty is made with love. #Blessed #LunchGoals."

And every time he practiced, he pushed himself a little harder — because how could he not? The most beautiful thing in his life was already cheering for him.

Chigiri Hyoma

Chigiri Hyoma was a storm bottled inside a porcelain frame. Fast, sharp, and achingly beautiful — like something that wasn’t meant for this world.

You stood near the track where he was finishing his sprints, heart pounding, clutching the small thermos and bento box you'd packed just for him.

His long crimson hair streamed behind him like a banner as he raced past — so fast it took your breath away.

And then — As if sensing your gaze — Chigiri skidded to a graceful stop, turning his head slightly, strands of hair framing his delicate, sharp-edged face.

When he saw you, something subtle shifted in his expression — a softening that few ever got to witness.

He jogged over, light on his feet, wiping sweat off his brow.

"Hey," he said, voice low and a little surprised. "You’re here?"

You nodded, shy but determined, holding out the food.

"I made you lunch. For after practice."

Chigiri blinked. His gaze flickered from your face to the lunch, and back to your face again.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

You saw it — the walls he kept so carefully built up wobbling ever so slightly.

"You made this for me?" he asked, voice dropping even softer, like he was almost afraid to say it too loud and scare the moment away.

"Yeah," you said, smiling. "I figured you'd need something good after training so hard."

Slowly — hesitantly — Chigiri reached out and took the bento box from you. His fingers brushed yours, and you felt how slightly his hand was trembling.

He led you over to a quiet corner where he could open it away from the others. Sitting on the grass, he peeled open the lid — and his eyes widened slightly.

You had packed light but hearty food — udon noodles with fresh vegetables, marinated tofu, slices of sweet rolled omelet, and fresh strawberries, knowing he loved them. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was everything he needed.

He looked at it. Then at you.

"...You know me better than anyone," he said quietly.

He took a bite, chewing slowly — and for the first time in a long time, you saw it: The way his entire body relaxed, the way his shoulders dropped from their usual tense coil.

When he finished eating, Chigiri set the box aside and leaned back on his hands, face tilted toward the sky, crimson hair catching the breeze.

Then, in a voice so soft you almost missed it, he said:

"You're my favorite reason to run."

And when he looked at you, eyes shining like rubies, you knew: He wasn’t just running for himself anymore.

He was running toward you.

Gagamaru Gin

Practice was brutal today — the kind where even the air feels heavy, and the turf sticks stubbornly to the soles of your shoes. Gagamaru had thrown himself at every shot, dove at impossible angles, muscles aching in ways he didn't even realize possible. The coach finally blew the whistle for a break, and the players scattered to catch their breath.

Gagamaru wiped the sweat from his forehead with the hem of his shirt and wandered toward the benches, his mind already halfway gone to food — anything, at this point. Maybe the vending machines still had something halfway edible.

But then he saw you.

Standing awkwardly near the sidelines, clutching a lunchbox like it was some kind of sacred artifact, you waved the moment he noticed you. His eyes lit up instantly — not in a loud, dramatic way, but in that quiet, stunned Gagamaru way, like a puppy realizing its favorite person was in the room.

He jogged over to you, hair bouncing slightly with each step, a rare grin spreading across his flushed face.

"You… made me lunch?" he asked, voice rough from shouting during drills, but so, so soft when speaking to you.

You nodded shyly, handing it over. It wasn't anything crazy — just simple food you knew he liked: grilled onigiri, karaage, some tamagoyaki, and fresh fruits tucked in the corners like tiny bursts of color. You had even slipped a tiny handwritten note between the compartments ("Eat well, dummy! ❤️").

Gagamaru took the box in both hands like he was afraid he'd crush it if he wasn't careful. He dropped onto the bench right there and ripped off the lid with boyish excitement, inhaling the scent.

"Whoa... it smells so good," he mumbled, practically bouncing on his seat. Without hesitation, he popped a rice ball into his mouth, his eyes going wide mid-bite.

"Thish ish... amazhing," he said, voice muffled through a full mouth.

You laughed, sitting beside him. He offered you a bite like it was instinct — holding out a piece of chicken with his chopsticks toward your mouth, utterly earnest.

"Eat with me," he said, grinning in that slightly dopey, infinitely sweet way only Gagamaru could.

And for the rest of the break, the two of you sat side by side, sharing bites, his knee bumping against yours every so often. He kept sneaking glances at you, a quiet, contented look on his face that said more than words ever could: Thank you. Thank you for thinking of me. Thank you for caring.

He even insisted on carrying the empty box himself after, carefully tucking it into his duffel like it was treasure.

Before jogging back to practice, he paused, turned, and with a sudden rush of boldness pressed a quick, clumsy kiss against your temple.

"I’ll score one for you today," he promised, eyes bright with the kind of simple, fierce devotion only Gagamaru knew how to give.

Raichi Jingo

The locker room still smelled like sweat and metal, even with half the windows cracked open. Raichi Jingo slammed his locker shut, his foot tapping out a restless rhythm against the tile floor.

Today’s drills had been intense — too many scrimmages, too many chances for him to lose his temper at some idiot who didn't pass when they should’ve. He was on edge, frustration bubbling under his skin, needing an outlet.

So when he stepped outside and saw you waiting by the field gates — holding a lunch bag, looking nervous but hopeful — it almost didn't register at first. He blinked, a scowl still half-formed on his face, until it clicked.

You. Lunch. For him.

He stomped over, face flushing a deep red not from the heat, but from the unfamiliar cocktail of emotions tangling in his chest.

"W-what the hell are you doing here?!" he barked instinctively — too loud, too harsh. But then he caught the slight falter in your smile and cursed himself mentally.

You lifted the bag toward him. "I, um… thought you might want something homemade before the next scrimmage?"

He stood there for a second, hands balled into fists at his sides, glaring at the ground like it had personally offended him. Then, wordlessly, he grabbed the bag from you — not roughly, but like he didn’t trust himself to be gentler.

He turned his back for a second, breathing out hard, before plopping down right on the grass. He cracked open the bag and froze.

Inside was his favorite: katsudon, hot and fragrant, with the egg perfectly runny and the pork golden-crispy. You had even packed a side of miso soup in a thermos, and a small pudding cup (with a stupid little smiley face sticker on the lid).

Raichi swallowed hard. His throat felt too tight for some reason.

"You're... really trying to kill me, huh," he muttered, not looking at you. But when you laughed — that soft, genuine laugh — he peeked up, ears red, and finally cracked a small, crooked smile.

He ate like he was starving, shoving spoonfuls into his mouth, muttering how "this was the only good thing that happened today" under his breath. Every now and then he’d glance sideways at you, trying to be subtle but failing miserably, cheeks tinted pink.

After finishing, he set the empty container down carefully. He didn't say thank you — not in words — but he shifted closer to you, bumped his shoulder into yours roughly, like a kid asking for attention.

"Tch. Next time... bring two portions," he grumbled. "You barely get any if you just sit there watching me, dumbass."

It wasn’t the smoothest thanks. It wasn’t even close. But from the way Raichi sat a little closer after that, from the way he picked at the grass nervously while sneaking glances at you — it was clear:

He was grateful. So, so much more grateful than he could ever put into words.

And when he got up to head back to practice, he ruffled your hair — quick, rough, affectionate — before stomping off, barking at his teammates like usual. But his voice had a little more warmth to it now. And every now and then, he’d shoot a cocky, almost-boyish grin back at you from across the field.

Hiori Yo

The sun barely peeked through the heavy gray clouds overhead. It felt like the whole world was weighed down, sluggish and quiet — matching the mood inside Hiori Yo’s chest.

Practice today was grueling, but it wasn’t just the drills that exhausted him. It was the constant gnawing voice in the back of his mind, whispering that he wasn’t good enough, wasn’t moving fast enough, wasn’t shining the way he should. He hated that voice. He hated that it still had power over him sometimes.

As he trudged off the field toward the benches, his head low, he saw a small figure waiting for him. You. Standing there, shifting your weight nervously from foot to foot, holding a lunch bag decorated with little blue stars — the color you knew he liked.

At first, Hiori thought he was hallucinating out of exhaustion. But when you lifted the bag shyly and waved at him, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"You... came here for me?" he asked quietly, disbelief plain in his voice.

You nodded, smiling a little, though your hands trembled just enough for him to notice. "I thought… maybe you could use a break. A good one."

For a long moment, Hiori just stared, his usually guarded expression slipping away. And then — like a dam breaking — the softest smile curled onto his lips. A real one. The kind that was rare, precious, like sunlight after a long rain.

He walked over, taking the bag almost reverently from your hands.

Sitting beside you on the bench, he opened it carefully — and when he saw the neat little arrangement inside, his throat tightened. You had packed everything he loved without being over-the-top: a homemade sandwich with fresh, crisp veggies and chicken, his favorite kind of potato salad, and even a tiny matcha-flavored sweet tucked in the corner.

You even remembered to include a tiny packet of hand wipes — because you knew how meticulous he was about not feeling "sticky" when he ate.

"You…" he started, then stopped. His voice cracked embarrassingly.

Instead, he set the lunch down, leaned toward you, and pressed his forehead gently against your shoulder.

"Thank you," he whispered, so soft you almost missed it under the breeze.

He ate slowly, savoring every bite, and he kept glancing at you — like he couldn’t believe you were real, sitting there next to him, just for him. When he finished, he carefully tucked everything back into the bag, his movements almost tender.

Then, without warning, he turned to you fully, his ocean-blue eyes clear and steady.

"When I’m on the field today," he said, voice steady, "I’ll remember this feeling. I’ll remember that someone believes in me."

And he said it like a promise — not just to you, but to himself.

Before heading back to practice, he surprised you by reaching out and taking your hand — fingers sliding between yours, gentle but sure — and giving it a small, grateful squeeze.

Nanase Nijiro

The energy on the field was electric today — shouts, laughter, the slap of cleats against the turf. Nanase Nijiro was everywhere, darting around like a bright bolt of energy, even as sweat soaked through his practice jersey.

Still, there was a tiredness under his smile. The kind you only saw if you knew him well — the kind where he pushed himself harder than he should, afraid of falling behind.

As the whistle blew for a break, he wiped his forehead with his sleeve, heart hammering in his chest. He was about to make a beeline for his water bottle when he saw you standing just beyond the field.

The moment his eyes landed on you, his whole face lit up.

"(Y/N)!!" he shouted, waving both arms above his head like an overexcited kid. He sprinted toward you, practically skidding to a stop in front of you, his grin so wide it almost hurt to look at.

"What’re you doing here?!" he beamed. Then he noticed the lunch bag in your hands.

His eyes widened comically. "Wait. Is that... is that for me??"

You laughed, handing it to him. "Yeah. Thought you might be hungry."

"Hungry?? I'm starving!" he groaned dramatically, clutching the bag to his chest like it was a lifeline.

Without any hesitation — like it was the most natural thing in the world — he plopped down cross-legged right there on the grass, pulling you down beside him with a happy tug on your wrist.

He opened the bag with the kind of reverence most people reserved for opening presents on Christmas morning. Inside was a bento box you had carefully arranged: fluffy rice topped with sesame seeds, grilled fish, sautéed vegetables, and a few carefully cut fruit slices in the shape of little hearts. You had even tucked in a tiny note that said, "For my favorite striker!" with a doodle of a tiny soccer ball.

Nanase stared at it for a second, then looked up at you, his green eyes wide and glassy.

"You made this? Like, actually??" he said, voice cracking slightly.

When you nodded, he clutched the bento to his chest again dramatically. "This is... the greatest day of my life," he announced solemnly, making you burst into laughter.

He dug in with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn't eaten in days — humming happily at every bite, practically bouncing in place. Every now and then he would pause, shove a piece of fruit toward your mouth, insisting you eat too.

"This is insane," he said between bites. "You're insane. You're amazing. I'm gonna score a hat trick today, I swear on this lunch."

After he finished (and licked the lid of the bento clean, because Nanase was nothing if not shameless when it came to food you made), he turned to you, practically vibrating with energy.

"Stay and watch, okay?" he pleaded, cheeks flushing. "I’m gonna play my heart out. For you."

He looked so earnest, so absolutely bright, you couldn't help but promise you would.

And when he ran back onto the field, he turned around once — just once — to shoot you a grin so dazzling it could’ve powered the floodlights on its own.

need this, need him, need your writing

being with you doesn't feel like drowning,

from vi

ᰔ pairing . . . m. townsend !

ᰔ with . . . a f!reader

ᰔ category . . . angst. hurt with comfort. one - shot. requested.

ᰔ in which . . . when you saw michael's injuries, everything falls apart. trust is broken, & the connection you two had is tested. michael attempts to keep the truth from you, but it's too late▰the damage is done. now, both of you have to deal with the repercussions of your actions.

ᰔ tags . . . 5.4k. major spoilers. reader is not a natural but not invisible. raised in the house, still feels like a guest. trust issues ft. too many secrets. blue-purple bruises. “i never asked you to love me” <— okay jane austen boy, ouch. the slow burn of breaking down walls. everyone knows but no one says it. fbi = feelings buried indefinitely. friends who read you like crime scenes. windowsill confessions. love, interrupted. trust issues but make it cozy. held together by forehead kisses. he reads you better than his files. love in lowercase. statistics say he shouldn't love this hard (he does). he’d classify you as essential personnel. ooc. grammatical errors.

ᰔ look around . . . m. list , m. townsend & the naturals m. list

────── vi whispers . . . ᰔ

001. AAAAA, nonnie,,, this was supposed to be 7k but it DIDN'T save💔 im sorryyyyy😭😭

002. you sent this around three am ish & i was LOCKED in❕❕

003. idk if i did you justice, nonnie 💔💔

004. horrible writing because i started writing this at,,,, 3 am

005. also... i couldn't keep this spoiler free😭😭 my head was blank because WHAT WOULD THE TOPIC OF THEIR ARGUMENT BE????? so i js... tweaks & tweaks..

006. as i said in note four,, this is badly written so don't expect much 😭 I CAN'T WRITE ANGST

you weren't supposed to be here.

judd had instructed you to remain where you were, michael would return tomorrow.

& sure, perhaps you were snooping, perhaps you shouldn't have gone into his room without knocking, but you were missing him, and the jacket he'd left behind still smelled of him.

besides, you've done the groceries.(that usually takes you all day because the group chat keeps adding more things to the list.)

so you'd gone in.

& hell broke loose.

because the moment you laid eyes on the bruises, the cut on his jaw, the way he winced when he reached too far▰your breath caught in your throat.

you weren't a profiler, hell, you're not even a natural but you weren't stupid either.

you knew what a beating looked like. & michael could lie with a smile, but his body was always honest. especially to you.

he turned just as you walked in.

froze.

like a deer in headlights.

like he hadn't meant for anyone to see him this way.

you didn't speak.

he didn't either.

just stood there, half-shirted, ribs smeared with ugly blue-purple marks.

& god, it was like someone injected ice water into your veins.

because he told you it was a family business.

he told you he was fine.

& you believed him.

"what the hell," you said, hushed. too hushed.

he hauled down the hem of his shirt. "it's nothing."

"don't," you said, & your voice broke in a way you despised.

"don't do that."

he sat on the edge of the bed like this was normal. like you didn't just interrupt something that made your chest too tight to breathe.

"you're back early," he said, staring at the floor.

"& you're bruised," you snapped. "so maybe we both have bad timing."

he sighed. "it's not a big deal."

"not a big deal?" you had said, voice rising before you pushed it back down. "michael, what the hell are you even saying right now?"

he didn't glance your way.

didn't blink.

just kept his eyes fixed on the floor as if he remained silent long enough, all of this would disappear.

"you went back there," you told him. "to your dad."

"i told you i was visiting family."

"you lied."

he glanced up then, and sure, maybe you did wait for that. maybe you needed to see his face.

because he didn't look angry.

he looked exhausted.

so exhausted it curled your stomach.

"what do you want me to say?" he asked.

you blinked. "i want you to say something."

he got up, & you resented how slow & deliberate his movements were.

you resented that he was accustomed to pain like this.

like it was normal.

like it was a habit.

"i'm fine."

"you're not fine."

"this happens," he said. "it's not new."

you stepped forward, fists curled at your sides. "you've been my boyfriend for months. & i never knew."

"because i didn't want you to know."

that line hurt more than it should have.

"why?"

"because it's my problem," he stated, finally, like something in him cracked open.

"it's not yours. it's not anyone's. i've been dealing with this my whole life▰"

"that's the problem," you cut in, voice low. "you deal with it like it's your fault."

he paced slightly, running a hand through his hair. "don't psychoanalyze me."

"i'm not," you said. "i'm begging you to talk to me."

he fell silent again.

& you hated that.

because he was so good at this▰retreating into silence, allowing you to talk until you quit.

but you weren't quitting. not today.

"do you even trust me?" you asked.

his jaw clenched. "don't do that."

"don't do what?" you snapped. "don't ask if my boyfriend▰who's keeping this from me▰trusts me?"

he remained silent.

"you didn't tell me," you breathed. "you didn't tell anyone, but▰"

"lia knows," he blurted out before he could stop himself.

you stiffened.

you glared at him like he slapped you.

"what?"

he gazed away once more. "she figured it out. it's not like i told her."

"but she knew," you replied. "and she didn't say anything."

"that's not her job."

"it's not yours either, apparently," you snarled.

the silence that hung between you afterwards was colder than anything else.

you didn't weep. you wouldn't.

but god, you wished to scream.

"do you have any idea how dumb this makes me feel?" you asked, voice trembling though you resented that it was. "do you have any idea how it feels to be excluded from everything because i'm not one of you?"

his eyes grew cold. "this has nothing to do with you not being a natural."

"doesn't it?" you asked. "because you tell them things. they know things. & i'm just the girl who was raised in the house & still gets treated like a guest."

he opened his mouth. closed it.

& that was the worst part▰he didn't argue.

he didn't fight back.

because maybe he knew you were right.

"i've been here since i was eight," you said. "i grew up with you people. judd raised me. hell, tanner used to read me silly bedtime stories, i cleaned up after sloane when she spilled powdered sugar all over the place, i held lia's hand when she got stitches, i taught dean how to braid hair because his kept falling in his eyes, i let cassie stay in my room because that stupid locke haunts her every time.”

your voice cracked again.

you're no natural, just someone scarlett hawkins took in before she died. & judd didn't send you to an orphanage because he knows that this is what his daughter wants. you don't know what she sees in you, but there was something. you had skills, enough to be qualified in the fbi. if it weren't for your age.

"but i'm not a natural. so i'm not one of you."

michael didn't look at you.

& that only made it worse.

"you were the only one who made me feel like i belonged," you said softly now. "you were the only one who didn't look at me like i was on the outside. so i don't get why you shut me out too."

he finally looked up.

& he looked destroyed. wrecked.

"because it's not about you," he told me, & his voice wasn't angry. just tired. "it's about me. it's about not wanting to see your face change when you look at me. it's about keeping the only good thing in my life safe."

"safe?" you echoed. "from what? the truth?"

"from me."

you looked at him.

& this time, you said nothing.

he exhaled & sat back down, as if standing was now too much work.

"you weren't supposed to see," he said. "i know how to handle it. i've done it before."

"& how's that working out for you?" you asked, frustration boiling. "you keep going back, michael. you keep getting hurt. what, you think that's brave? you think it's strength?"

"i think it's survival," he said harshly.

"then perhaps you should learn a new means of survival."

he didn't say anything.

you took a trembling breath, pacing now, because if you stood still the room felt like it was closing in on you.

"you should've told me," you said. "even if you didn't want to be helped. even if you didn't want me to make it better. i'm not asking to be your savior. i'm just asking to know."

he nodded once, slowly.

but it did not feel like an honest answer.

it felt like he was folding in again on himself.

closing off.

retreating.

"you don't get to make choices about me," you said, coming closer again. "you don't get to choose what i can or cannot handle. if you didn't want me on board, then maybe you should not have gotten me to fall in love with you."

his head jerked up.

you hadn't intended to say it like that.

but it was out now, & you weren't backing down.

"i never asked you to love me," he said, voice low but cutting.

& wow.

that hurt more than it should've.

you blinked. "no. i guess you didn't."

he shut his eyes. ran his hands through his hair once more. "that's not what i meant."

"but it's what you said."

he glared up at you again. "i didn't mean it like that. i just▰this▰"

he pointed vaguely at his ribs.

"this is ugly. & i didn't want you to see it."

"well, i did," you said. "so now what?"

he didn't speak.

you looked at each other for what felt like an eternity.

neither of you saying a word.

& perhaps that was worse than the words.

because it meant you were both suspended in the in-between.

not broken up.

not fine.

just there.

distant, angry, & unsure what was next.

the ssilence between you & michael was heavy for days.

it wasn't just the fight anymore▰it was the way it landed in the space between you.

you weren't broken up, but the air was thick with things unspoken, with questions still hanging, unasked.

you tried to concentrate on the work.

attempted to bury yourself in homework, in assisting the team, despite your heart feeling as if it were walking around with a pain you could not rid yourself of.

didn't help that everyone else seemed to be able to tell something was wrong.

lia saw someone was off first, naturally.

she always did. she knows you. & that isn't because she's a lie detector or anything of the sort.

she was a lie detector, & even when you tried to smile, she was aware.

the way your shoulders stiffened every time michael entered the room. the manner in which you always averted your gaze before anyone had time to ask. you could sense her gaze upon you, could sense her attempting to read you & send shivers down your spine.

but you never allowed her to ask.

you couldn't.

not yet.

cassie. oh, cassie. she noticed. when she came to your room that night, asking for comfort, your eyes looked puffy. red.

you looked like you didn't want to talk about it. so she didn't. only hoping her embrace will at least make you feel better. hoping that the next time she enters your room, your eyes won't look tired or puffy or red or sad.

& then there was dean.

dean. someone who knew you since you were twelve.

dean. someone whom you thought of as a brother in every sense that counted.

dean, who observed you going in & out of the safe house with michael, who guarded you with a look that made his eyes keen & his fists even keener.

you noticed it in the way he looked at you now.

the way he questioned you with his eyes, with the way he stayed too long when you entered the kitchen for breakfast.

you detested that look.

you hated that he could see through the cracks, but you didn't want to speak up.

so you didn't.

instead, you concentrated on the people who didn't ask the questions▰like sloane.

sloane, who always had a way of seeing things without mentioning them.

she was quiet in her noticing.

but she could sense the tension, & she was there when you needed her most.

you were sitting at the kitchen counter, doing your best to ignore the glaring emptiness in your chest, when sloane came over, sitting beside you, her hand casually brushing yours.

you didn’t flinch.

you didn’t pull away.

but it was comforting.

it was sloane.

“you okay?” she asked quietly.

you swallowed.

“yeah. i’m fine.”

sloane didn’t buy it.

& she didn’t press either.

she simply left her hand hovering close to yours, a gentle pull, a comfort that didn't demand anything back.

it was in these small moments that you felt the cracks in your heart start to mend▰slowly, agonizingly, but they mended.

but even the tiniest crack won't go undetected.

not when lia's around.

the instant you walked into the room, lia raised an eyebrow.

you attempted to escape her stare, but she saw you anyway.

she rose to her feet, approaching you, her expression impossible to read.

"tell me," she told you, voice soft but slicing all at the same time. "what happened?"

you stalled.

you knew she knew.

you just didn't know what to say.

"nothing's wrong," you grumbled, attempting to brush it off, but lia was not accepting anything.

"nothing?" she repeated, folding her arms. "then why do you look like someone stole your soul?"

you bit your lip.

you couldn't lie to her, not like this. "we fought," you said, voice strained. "that's all."

lia's expression softened, but her frown grew deeper.

"about what?" she asked. you shook your head, already knowing what would happen if you told her.

she knows. you were upset at first. but you knew it's not her fault for knowing.

she didn't need to know everything. "it's just. it's complicated." lia looked at you for a long time.

& for a moment, you'd hoped maybe she'd let it drop.

but no.

lia wasn't the kind of girl to let something go.

particularly when it involved you.

"so. he hurt you," she stated, not a question, but fact.

you bristled, heart skipping a beat in your chest.

you couldn't meet her gaze. because pergaps she wasn't wrong.

"no," you asserted hastily, shaking your head. "not like that."

but lia could see right through you.

she always had. she moved a little closer, voice low & guarded.

"i won't help you unless you tell me."

you groaned.

"i'm not hiding anything. i just. i don't know how to put this into words. i just need space."

lia gazed at you for a moment, & you could see her considering her words.

then she just said, "just don't push him away. whatever it is, it's not worth losing him over." you nodded, feeling the heaviness of her words hit you.

you didn't want to lose him. but you didn't want to hurt him either.

you and michael were moving around like strangers.beyes not meeting. words few and far between. but it wasn't easy to forget. not when you shared a house full of people who noticed everything.

at dinner one evening, judd sat beside you, observing you with his characteristic silent watchfulness.

you were fiddling with your food, shoving it round your plate, hardly eating it. he didn't tell you what was the matter, but you could sense him looking at you▰like he was waiting for you to talk. & at last he spoke.

"you have to talk to him," judd said, his tone as quiet as ever. he doesn't know what happened. & he won't ask.

you shook your head hastily.

you're not even surprised that he knows.

"i can't."

"why?" he asked.

you bit your lip, not meeting his eyes.

"because i don't know how. because everything's all screwed up, and i'm. i'm afraid. i'm afraid that whatever this is, it's gonna ruin everything we have." judd sighed, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed.

"you've been through worse, kid. you know that, right?" you glanced at him.

which is correct. you not being a natural doesn't excuse what you've been through. scarlett hawkins. lacey locke. your past.

when scarlett died, judd knew he wasn't the only one struggling.

yes, he had lost a daughter, & you have lost a sister. not by blood. & blood wasn't a necessity for scarlett when it came to you.

briggs making the program was what saved the both of you. dean saved the both of you. not just dean. he saved veronica sterling.

"yeah, but. this feels different."

"of course it does," he whispered. "but you can't keep running from him. you have to figure this out."

you were quiet for a long time, taking in his words.

he was right.

you couldn't just hide from him forever.

you had to confront him. just… when?

it was late when michael appeared in your room that night.

the door creaked quietly as he pushed it open, & you looked up from where you sat at the window. you didn't say anything at first. didn't know what to say. he didn't wait for an invitation.

just walked in and shut the door behind him, standing beside it for a moment. "can we talk?" he asked, voice low.

you nodded slowly, biting the inside of your cheek.

michael leaned against the edge of your bed, a couple of feet from you.

you remained by the window, uncertain if you should approach.

the tension between you was thick once more.

both of you being so cautious, as if anything wrong would break it all. "i'm sorry," he broke the silence.

his voice low, too quiet. "i know i messed up. i didn't mean to hurt you. i just. i didn't want you to know. i didn't want you to see me like that." you at last turned to look at him.

"but you lied. you kept things from me, michael." he nodded, downcast eyes.

"i know. & i'm sorry. i just. i didn't think you could handle it."

"you don't get to decide that," you breathed, moving in close to him.

"you can't shut me out like that."

he stared up at you, his face filled with regret.

"i know. i messed up." you sat beside him, the gap between you still too great.

but you couldn't help it. you were afraid.

"i'm just angry," you confessed quietly. "i'm angry that you didn't trust me enough to share. i'm angry that you think i can't handle it. but i don't despise you, michael. i could never despise you."

his hand crawled out, touching your fingers softly.

you did not jerk away. you let him.

"i know i've been stupid," he declared. "but i never had any intention to hurt you. i just. i'm just so used to facing it all alone. i don't even know how to ask for things to be easier."

you took a jerky breath, eyes dropping from yours to fall upon your other hand, still clenching his.

"i'm sorry," you explained, voice shaky.

"i'm probably being selfish. i just. i just need to know you're okay. i don't want to keep pretending like everything's fine when you're falling apart." he shook his head softly.

"you're not being selfish. i'm just stupid for not seeing how much you care." you paused for a moment, gazing at him.

"are you okay?" he closed his eyes, tightening his grip on your hand.

"yeah. i'm getting there."

"it's okay," you whispered softly, reaching up to brush his cheek.

"it's okay to not be okay."byou overanalyzed every little touch, making sure not to hurt him.

but michael drew you in, holding you tight, his head against yours. "stop overthinking it," he whispered. "you're not hurting me. you never will."

& for the first time in days, you felt the tension finally release.the evening following your conversation with michael, things were quieter, more gentle. the air between you two wasn't as stifling, but it wasn't completely healed either. nonetheless, there was a shift.

the house was quiet that evening. everyone was in bed or otherwise occupied, leaving you & michael alone in the living room. the gentle hum of the fridge & the muffled sounds of traffic somewhere outside were the only things disrupting the silence.

michael sat on the couch, the same spot where you’d spent so many nights together. this time, though, it was different. there was no tension, no walls between you. just a quiet, comfortable silence.

you sat at the edge of the couch, uncertain at first, not wanting to know what to do after all that happened. you did not want to intrude upon him, did not want to make matters worse by pushing his limits.

but michael, as ever, appeared to be reading you like an open book. without uttering a word, he eased slightly to the side, opening up space for you to sit beside him. his eyes were warm, the slightest suggestion of a smile pulling at his mouth, as if he was promising you something.

"come here," he breathed softly, his voice gruff but gentle.

you bit your lip, nervousness rising up in your chest. "are you sure?" you asked softly, still not knowing if your touch would hurt him.

he smiled at you, the kind of smile that was only for you, & nodded. "yeah, i'm sure. you're not gonna hurt me, y'know."

you paused for another second, then slowly walked towards him. as you sat beside him, his arm fell naturally across your shoulders, drawing you closer.

but you tensed slightly, still overthinking every little thing, every small touch. you weren't accustomed to feeling so guarded, so attuned to everything.

"i don't want to hurt you," you breathed, voice so soft it was barely audible. "i'm just. i don't know how to do this without hurting you more."

michael smiled gently, the warmth of the sound enveloping you like a blanket. "you're not going to hurt me, angel. you're not.”

he tugged you a little nearer, & this time you let yourself slip into his side. being close to him felt so normal, so comfortable, that you couldn't help relaxing slightly, allowing your head to lean on his shoulder.

"i just▰" you'd begun, but michael interrupted, raising his hand to tilt your chin up carefully so that you were facing him. his eyes were so soft, so knowing. as though he could penetrate right through your fears.

"it's all right," he whispered. "i know that you're being careful. but you're not going to break me, you know that?"

you nodded, but the knot in your chest did not completely dissipate. you still wished to ensure that you were not doing anything wrong, even in a momeent such as this, when all you wished for was to feel close to him.

michael appeared to sense the restlessness still present within you, & his hand softly cupped your cheek. "hey," he whispered, "if you're not comfortable with anything, you can let me know, okay?"

you smiled softly, grateful for his patience. “i’m okay now. just. just scared of hurting you.”

he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “you’re not going to. just trust me.”

you blinked your eyes shut for a second, allowing the heat of his hand seep into your skin, & gradually, all your tension dissolved. you felt the calm rhythm of his breathing, the way his pulse beat in sync with yours in perfect harmony.

"i'm sorry i was acting weird earlier," you mumbled, voice hardly above a whisper.

"don't apologize," he told you, his thumb making little circles on the back of your hand. "you've got nothing to be sorry for."

he was right, but the guilt still hung in your chest. you couldn't help it. you cared too much. you just wanted to protect him, even when he wasn't asking for it.

you moved closer, not bothering to be cautious anymore. the way his arms were wrapped around you was stabilizing, like

"thank you for not giving up on me," you whispered, your fingers tracing across his arm. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

michael pulled you nearer, his arms tightening around you in a warm grasp. "don't worry about that. i'm never leaving, angel. you're stuck with me." he doesn't know what he'd do without you either.

you smiled quietly, running your fingers over & over his chest in gentle, soothing patterns. "good," you breathed. "i think i prefer to be stuck with you."

he leaned down, his lips brushing the top of your head as he sighed contentedly. “same here.”

you stayed like that for a while, just existing in the quiet, the soft rhythm of each other’s breathing the only sound that mattered. there was no rush. no pressure. just the warmth of his body, the comfort of his presence.

soon, michael moved a little, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch & draping it over both of you. his hand migrated to your waist, & he pulled you in closer, as if too close did not exist when it came to the two of you.

"you know," he mused softly, now teasing, "you're the cuddling champ."

you smiled softly, rolling your eyes. "oh, really? is that so?"

"yeah," he said, his fingers running along your side in that special way that always made you shiver. "if i had a dollar for every time i thought about how perfect it feels when you're in my arms, i'd be rich." well, he already is. but you know what he means.

you smiled, your heart filling with love. "you're cheesy, you know that?"

"perhaps," he grinned, "but you adore it."

"perhaps i do," you confessed, the tension in your chest melting away now entirely. "just a little."

he leaned against you, the sly grin on his face as his lips whispered against yours in a soft kiss. "just a little?"

you smiled against his lips, the sense of his warmth spreading through you like the gentlest kind of comfort. "okay, perhaps a great deal."

"that's what i thought," he whispered, kissing you again, this time deeper, slower. like he was tasting the moment, like he was ensuring you both knew this was real, this was something you were going to cling to.

you smiled & leaned back a little, your forehead against his. "you know," you whispered, barely above a sound, "if i could spend every night like this, i'd be happy."

"me too," he said, his fingers running through your hair, drawing you back into his arms. "me too."

the gentle glow of the tv danced around the room, illuminating soft shadows on the couch where you & michael were snuggled together. all was calm, so calm that you nearly forgot the world existed outside of this moment. the soothing sound of his breathing & the rhythmic thump of his heartbeat against your ear made everything seem right.

until, of course, you heard the distant sound of footsteps from the hallway.

you blinked, the serene moment interrupted. michael must've heard it too because his body stiffened slightly, his hand reaching out to lightly rest on your back as he turned his head towards the door.

there was a gentle tap before the door groaned open, & there, in the doorway, was sloane. her dark eyes were opened wide in a mixture of sleep & curiosity, & she rubbed her eyes as if by accident.

you blinked in shock, but a gentle smile curled your mouth. "hey, sloane," you whispered, not wanting to disrupt the peaceful moment. "what's going on? why are you up so late?"

sloane shifted her weight, a faint flush rising to her cheeks. "i. um. i couldn't sleep. i was just. thinking about things," she stammered, her voice still heavy with sleep.

you raised an eyebrow, worry flashing in your chest. sloane wasn't typically one to struggle to sleep, & when she did, it was typically because something was wrong. you could tell she was holding something back, not wanting to confess why she was actually awake.

"sloane," you said quietly, your tone full of love, "you know you can tell me anything, don't you?"

she paused for a moment, but then nodded slowly, although she still did not look entirely at ease. "yeah. i just. i don't know. sometimes it's just hard to sleep."

you knew there was something more to it, but you didn't push her. instead, you shifted slightly on the couch & gestured to the space beside you. "come here, lovely. let's talk."

sloane didn't budge immediately, but after a moment, she crept over, crawling onto the couch next to you. you put an arm around her, drawing her into a hug. the hug was nearly motherly, & it came so instinctively to you that it was like second nature.

michael moved a bit, but he didn't look uncomfortable. he knew the relationship you had with sloane, just like he knew the relationship you shared with everyone at the house. you weren't just a friend to them▰you were like their secret garden, the one they could rely on.

"hey," you murmured softly to sloane, "you know you're not pestering me, right? if something's troubling you, tell me. we'll sort this out."

sloane let out a deep sigh & leaned against your shoulder, wrapped in your embrace. "i know. i just. i don't want to intrude on you & michael. you two look like you're snug as a pair of bugs.

you chuckled, gently stroking her hair. “don’t worry about us. you’re never a bother. but you should probably head back to your room, huh?”

sloane looked up at you with a small frown. “i don’t want to sleep alone.”

you smiled softly at that, the protective instinct inside of you flaring. “you’re not alone, sloane. you’ve got cassie, remember? she’s in the room with you.”

“yeah,” sloane muttered, “but she’s already asleep.”

you smiled softly & glanced at michael. he nodded slightly, understandingly, his hand on your back as if he were giving his silent approval to the moment. "how about this," you told sloane, "you go to your room, & i'll escort you there. if you're still upset, we can discuss it tomorrow, okay?"

sloane paused, but then nodded. "okay." she murmured.

you got up, still holding sloane gently by the shoulders, & began to lead her towards the door. when you reached it, you turned back to her. "sloane, it's all right to be vulnerable sometimes. you don't have to keep that from me. okay?"

sloane's face relaxed, & she smiled at you weakly. "yeah. i guess so."

you smiled back, hugging her quickly before she turned to go towards her room. "get some sleep, s," you whispered. "i'll check on you in a bit."

she nodded, a bit more at ease now as she headed toward her room. "goodnight, you two," she said softly, just before heading down the hall.

you faced back toward the couch, your heart feeling a bit lighter now that sloane was at least going back to her room. you headed back to michael, who had waited patiently for you to finish soothing her.

he looked at you as you came back to sit at his side, a warm smile on his face. "everything alright with her?”

"yeah, just. a bit disturbed," you told him, getting back into your seat beside him. "but she's going back to her room now."

michael nodded, his arm instinctively coming around you as you leaned back against him. the heat between the two of you still lingered, constant &,,, unchanging even after all that had occurred.

"you're good at this," he murmured, his lips feathering across the crown of your head in a gentle kiss. "good at taking care of everyone."

you smiled up at him, your heart filling with his words. "well, i am their emergency contact, so,, it's easy." you whispered. "but. it's not always easy, is it?"

he sighed, wrapping you closer so that you were snuggled under his arm. "no. it's not. but i'm glad you're here with me."

you curled into his chest, the beat of his heart calm you like a lullaby. "me too. i don't think i could do it without you."

there was silence for a moment, and then michael kissed your forehead, the touch so soft that you hardly felt it. but you did, and you dissolved into it, sensing the gentleness in the way he wrapped his arms around you.

"you're not doing it for them, though," he whispered, his voice low & seductive. "you're doing it for yourself too. & that's what makes you unique."

you gazed up at him, a gentle smile playing on your lips. "you're cheesy, you know that?"

"you adore it," he smiled, his fingers stroking along your jawline.

you smiled & drew him into a kiss, slow & deep. michael kissed you right back, his lips against yours like he couldn't get enough of you. the kiss was sweet at first, but then it deepened, becoming more desperate, more urgent. your hands wandered to his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as you drew him in closer, desperate to feel the connection between you two, to drown out everything else in the world.

when you finally broke away, gasping, you gazed up at him, your vision misty with love.

"more?" he whispered, his voice a little hoarse.

you nodded, your forehead pressed against his. "always.

© MINORLYATFAULT 2025

Can i pls request some face sitting headcanons for bllk guys? Specifically Sae, Rin, Shido, Oliver and Bachira solely because i think they're the nastiest 😆🫣 thank God!

𝐒𝐈𝐓.

🪽 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ face sitting with blue lock boys! ~

·˚ ◌༘͙[featuring] ! ˊ 𝐒𝐀𝐄 & 𝐑𝐈𝐍. 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔. 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑. 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀.

cw — gn!reader. afab!reader. so much oral sex. edging. overstimulation. spanking. spitting. squirting. full on tongue fucking. denied orgasms. pervy behavior. shidou being an animal.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ author’s note! : FUCK—this too me way too long to finish, but here it is! apologies nonnie for taking forever ;-;

₊˚ෆ 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄

slow n steady always wins the race. a motto sae keeps firm when it comes to sex, no matter what he’s doing. when it comes to oral though..god. the agonizing drag of his tongue while he holds you by your hips, moving them against his mouth as he kissed your sensative clit before prodding his tongue against your hole. everytime you try to speed up your pace, his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips and waist to keep you in your place. he might as well be edging the fuck out of you until you finally feel the knot snap in two and gush all over your boyfriend’s mouth. sae, bedroom eyes and all, would admire your fucked out face and trembling body before flipping you onto your back and continuing where he left off. safe to say, you aren’t getting out of his grip until you squirted every last drop.

“s-sae..quit being a tease..” you stuttered, trying your hardest not to buck your hips. if it wasn’t for sae’s strength, you would’ve gone wild and full on rode his face like a madman. his whole arms wrapped around your thighs, gripping tighter then usual while he switched from your clit to your sensitive pussy. sae’s sharp, jade eyes staring up at yours. his pupils were blown with a burning desire all too clear to you, as if his tongue movements didn’t say enough. god, he was a patient one and it was getting on your last nerves. a thought he promptly smacked you out of with a simple strike to the ass.

“paitience, darling. or i’ll leave you like this, i can’t stand whiny whores who get greedy.”

₊˚ෆ 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍

rin is more needier then his older brother, encouraging your carnal desires and egging you on as you rode his face as fast n hard as you please. the guy was basically making out with your cunt, open mouthed kisses and his tongue prying through your pussy had you gripping on the headboards or his hair. his hands roamed your body as he pleased, tracing his fingers against your stomach up to your sensitive nipples where he pinched and squeezed between his fingertips. don't think he'll stop either! long after you squirt all over his mouth, he'll only pull away just to take one long look at your fucked out face before he dives right back in again. rin gets pussydrunk a bit too easily, but why complain?

“rin..m-more, please..! i need more!” you begged and pleaded with a whine ripped straight from the jugular as you grinding your pussy against your boyfriend’s mouth. rin cracked open his eyes, through the blurred chaos, he admired your fucked out expression as you clung onto the wooden headboard for dear fuckin’ life. it was all too addictive to simple get off, how desperate and downright pussydrunk this man was, it’d be too cruel to pull away now! your thought process only strengthened when rin began to tug away at your sensative and soaked nipples from when he was mouthing at them earlier. he simply couldn’t get enough.

“stay with me..please, fuck! jus’ a little more, you can do that for me? please..?”

₊˚ෆ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐈

so much of a sloppy eater, it’s downright disgusting. shidou’s hands are unpredictable, switching from caressing and squishing the soft flesh of your ass to swatting away at it with quick strikes. don’t get me started on his oral anticts. this man is fucking eating away at your poor pussy, flicking his tongue against your sore clit while suckin’ n kissing at your abused hole. you couldn’t even move your hips with how much he’d just forced you down onto his mouth again, thus you had to sit there and simply take what he gives you, and god, the noises. besides your own moans and sobs for him to slow down, shidou’s downright animalistic growls and groans fill your ears and go straight into your cunt. don’t think he’s done either after you squirt into his mouth, oh no no! he’ll only push you onto your back with the hopes of you crushing his head with your thighs. he can’t get enough of you.

“haah..ah..r-ryu..” was all you could mutter out of your sore throat. after much whining and sobbing from the overstimulation, you could only make small noises of pleasure while shidou ate away like a man on death row. lapping up the remains of your last orgasm, he pried and pried at your hole until you swore he was tongue fucking you. grabbing fist fulls of his blonde hair only fueled the maniac to fuckin’ nip at your clit, an action that forced another intense orgasm out of your abused cunny and soaked his face even more then before. you could feel a smirk form of his lips before he landed a barrage of sharp slaps onto the flesh of your ass, dragging you out of your euphoric afterglow in time to feel his tongue pushing itself back in.

“c’mon sugar, don’t lose me now! we’re just getting started..! now, keep those pretty legs open..”

₊˚ෆ 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔

mister aiku here pays attention to both puss and ass with glee. when he told you to sit on his face, he meant it. there's nowhere that his mouth didn't touch, meaning you couldn't run from this man either. similar to shidou, he eats like a starved animal in front of a piece of meat. fingers pumping you full while he pays special attention to your poor clit with the occasional nips that would have you mewling and whining like a bitch in heat. but sadly, he's a greedy bastard when it comes to sex, pulling away right before you could have you sweet orgasm. heterochrome eyes staring daggers at your fucked out face while you pleaded for him to let you cum. you were almost in tears when oliver finally stuffed your twitching cunt with his fingers once again and went to town on your clit again. did i mention he pays attention to ass? that poor thing was covered in handprints and crecent shaped dents from how hard he was grabbing it. maybe, even a little bite mark for good measure.

“oliverrrr!” you whined out. "let me cum already! pleasee!" through tears, you could still see that bastard's shit eating grin. he was fucking enjoying this, getting off at your desperation while you bucked your hips at nothing. down there, oliver was enjoying the show he put together for himself and himself alone. his thumb ghosting over your neglected clit, his eyes flicking up to your own, pleading ones. you looked like a kicked puppy who didn’t get it’s owner’s attention, just like how oliver liked you. a shit eating grin stretched across his lips as he promptly gave your ass a hard slap before finger fucking your cunny at a furious pace. the noises it made sounded straight out of a porno as the pro player flicked his tongue around your clitty. it was all too much to handle at once, or so you claimed. you knew damn well oliver could see right through your teary eyes, and sniff out your disgusting, whorish fantasy.

“keep cryin’ like that and i’ll stop again, you hear me? i know you can pretty thing..i fuckin’ know you can.”

₊˚ෆ 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

what a pervert, a proud one at that too! he couldn’t keep his grabby hands to himself all day, something the grew more and more dangerously obvious as the day went on. sneaky hands up your skirt or down your pants, gentle squeezes on your inner thighs inching too close to your wet cunt. the final straw was when you caught him trying to look up your skirt/down your loose pants. dragging him all the way home where he couldn’t even wait to get to the bed and pushed you against the wall, kneeling in front of you while patting his cheek eagerly. clinging onto whatever door frame or counter was nearby as bachira pressed open mouthed, tongue heavy kisses against your spread pussy. he was a messy eater as well, going as far as to even spit on your cunny before diving back in with the intention of drowning in your juices. bachira was full on obsessed. nothing could tear him away from your cunny, no matter how hard you yanked his hair or tried to push his head away. he’ll always come back for more!

“o-oh god..bachira, baby..!” you sighed, clasping a hand over your mouth in a feeble attempt to not alarm the neighbors. bachira quickly noticed and yanked your hand away, staring up at you with the same crazed look he had all day. he didn’t tear his eyes off of you, forcing to maintain eye contact with him as he licked and macked with your ruined cunt. your knees felt weaker and weaker, probably because of the last orgasms your monster of a boyfriend gave you, yet he just refuses to quit! not the stinging pain of you gripping his hair or even your efforts to straight up push him away so he doesn’t suffocate to death in your pussy. bachira, in retaliation, forced your wrists against the wall and gives your cunt a mean spat. you flinched in shock, watching as he simply goes back to eating you out like a madman. fuck, thank god you made it home in time.

“don’t shy away from me! i’m only getting started, my love..don’t you want me to please you? hm?”

© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

can you ask a nagi version of the bachira “no way he pulled that” !! thank you sooomuch

Absolutely!!! And npp!!

Also shoutout to the other people asking for a Nagi version in my requests-you've got taste.

And not to be dramatic, but I love how literally all my current requests revolve around this "No Way He Pulled That" beach idea. Like yeah, I made that concept while pacing around my room, headphones on, blasting my saved TikToks and imagining the wildest daydream ever. I was fully in my own world and now it's lowkey becoming a whole saga.

No Way He Pulled That Pt.5

Ego had declared a rare break from the brutal training sessions of Blue Lock—a full beach day, no drills, no strategy talks, no footballs (unless you brought one yourself). Just the sun, the sea, and your fellow egocentric maniacs trying to figure out how to relax without turning everything into a competition.

Nagi arrived last, of course. Board shorts hanging off one hip, hair messier than usual, a towel draped over his head like a cloak. He made it exactly ten steps before collapsing under the nearest palm tree with a soft groan and his signature phrase:

"Too much effort…"

No one paid much attention to him—because no one ever believed a word that came out of his mouth. Especially not when it came to the mystical, possibly imaginary girlfriend he always mumbled about.

"She's real," Nagi had said one night, mouth full of instant ramen. "Really pretty. Soft, too"

“Is she your body pillow?” Isagi asked, deadpan.

"...No"

Reo had stopped believing months ago. Rin never believed to begin with. And Bachira? He was convinced Nagi had made her up after watching too many romance animes while half-asleep.

But then the beach volleyball game started. And that’s when everything changed.

A group of players had set up a net near the far edge of the shore, and laughter rang out as the match heated up. But one particular sound cut through the air like a melody.

Your laugh.

It was light, breezy, warm like honeyed sunlight—too charming to ignore.

Someone spiked the ball too hard. It shot over the net and landed dangerously close to the lazy white-haired boy under the palm tree.

You chased after it, completely unaware of the dozen Blue Lock boys who had just stopped whatever they were doing to stare at you.

And how could they not?

You were a vision—skin kissed by the sun, hair tossed in a high ponytail with strands flying free, your swim top peeking through a loose-knit tank, shorts that hugged your curves, legs dusted with sand. You radiated sweetness, like something out of a summer dream. A soft energy that clashed entirely with the high-strung testosterone-choked beach.

Reo dropped his smoothie.

Chigiri blinked like he was buffering.

Rin narrowed his eyes, confused and slightly annoyed by the way the sun hit your smile so perfectly.

You bent to grab the ball, tucking it under your arm. When you glanced toward Nagi, your entire face lit up.

"Sei!" you called, practically bouncing as you jogged toward him.

The boys followed your gaze like it was a horror movie reveal.

And Nagi?

He looked up, blinked twice, then broke into the laziest but fondest little grin.

"Hey. You're here" he said, voice low and soft, like you were the only thing in his world.

You reached him, tossed the ball aside, and flopped onto the sand next to him, curling up like it was your usual spot. Then, casually, you leaned over and pressed a kiss to his temple.

"Missed you" you said sweetly.

Silence.

Crickets.

Barou’s eye twitched. Otoya took off his sunglasses like he needed to confirm reality. Karasu mouthed "WHAT THE—"

Rin’s glare was sharp enough to slice metal. Bachira looked like he’d just discovered aliens were real.

:Waitwaitwaitwait," Isagi stammered. "That’s her?! That’s the girlfriend?"

Reo nearly combusted. "No way he pulled that. No—no way"

"You said she plays Animal Crossing!" Chigiri accused.

"She does," Nagi replied, already resting his head on your lap.

You?

You just smiled, oblivious to the mayhem behind you, fingers carding lazily through his hair as you fed him slices of cold watermelon from your cooler.

"God, she’s nurturing him," Reo whispered, devastated.

"Like a sea goddess nursing a shipwreck survivor" Karasu added mournfully.

Rin stood, muttered something about touching grass, and walked directly into the ocean.

Nagi yawned, totally unaffected. "Told you she was real"

Hiii, first of all i want to say that your writing is sooo good.like you're literally my fave author in this app and I love how you characterize the bl boys. Anyways can I request blue lock guys with a single mom reader and how the guys react to the fact that she's a single mom(maybe the father left reader when she got pregnant or you can write whatever scenario you want regarding the bio father) and their interaction with reader's child. If you could, pls include isagi, bachira, nagi, reo, rin and sae.

Also take care and have a great day<333

“𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩”

a/n: OMG TYSM??? AAA THAT IS SO SWEET! take care and have a great day as well you pretty soul ❤️

i love the domestic fluff behind this request + reader def has another kid with them after

ft. isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, itoshi sae

isagi yoichi

he’s surprised at first, but not in a bad way, just wide-eyed, taking it all in. 

“you’re a mom?” he blinks. “like… a real one? like… diapers and everything?” 

once he processes it, he’s all in. 

isagi grew up with supportive parents, so he has a lot of respect for the strength it takes to raise a kid alone. 

if you tell him the father walked out on you, he gets super serious, quiet and tense in a way you haven’t seen before. 

“you don’t have to tell me everything now, but if he ever tries to come back, you let me deal with him.” and the way he says it? dead serious. 

when he meets your kid for the first time, he brings a little soccer ball and awkwardly crouches down like he’s meeting royalty. 

“hi! i’m… yoichi. i kick balls for a living.” 

you: “okay let’s… rephrase that.” 

but it works. he’s silly, energetic, and so patient – your kid absolutely adores him. 

he’ll start doing commentary while the kid’s eating cereal, like it’s a world cup final. 

“AND HE SCORES THE LAST FROOT LOOP! WHAT A LEGEND!” 

you catch him googling “how to be a good stepdad” at 3 AM. you don’t bring it up. but you definitely screenshot it. 

bachira meguru

bachira lights up when you tell him. 

“you have a little gremlin too?!” 

he’s thrilled. he doesn’t ask anything about the father unless you bring it up. he’s more focused on how he can be a fun and loving person in your child’s life. 

he sees your kid and immediately goes “wanna see my monster voice?” and makes the weirdest, funniest noise ever. 

the two of them are chaotic together. 

you walk into the living room and there’s glitter everywhere, paper hats on both of them, and he’s letting your kid draw a mustache on his face. 

“we’re pirates now,” bachira says, completely serious. “you have to pay the glitter tax.” 

when your kid calls him “meguru,” he beams. when they accidentally call him “dad” one day? he tears up a little. 

you: “you okay?” 

him, teary-eyed: “i would die for that child.” 

also probably teaches your kid to climb furniture and you have to ban them from the couch for a week. 

nagi seishiro

“oh,” he says when you tell him, blinking slowly. “that’s kinda cool.” 

nagi doesn’t react big. he just accepts it immediately, like it’s just another part of you. 

but inside? he’s kind of in awe. like you raised a tiny human? by yourself? sounds exhausting. 

“you must be really strong,” he mumbles, head on your shoulder. 

he’s surprisingly good with kids. laid-back, unbothered, and doesn’t treat them like they’re fragile. 

your child is obsessed with sitting on his shoulders while he walks around the apartment like a lazy giraffe. 

he lets them play games on his phone, and one time they accidentally deleted a rare gacha pull. he just shrugged. 

“they’re more fun to hang out with than reo.” 

he naps with them on the couch and sleeps through them using his hair as a blanket. 

he gets attached without even noticing. one day he buys a switch for them and says it’s “because they’re annoying when they’re bored” but you find it in his shopping history under “gift for my mini me.” 

itoshi rin

freezes when you tell him. 

absolutely panics inside but tries to stay stoic. 

“oh. okay. i see.” (he doesn’t see anything. his brain is buffering.) 

but once he calms down, he starts asking thoughtful, gentle questions. 

“what do they like to eat?” 

“do they know their father?” 

“are you… okay?” 

when you explain your ex bailed after the pregnancy, he clenches his jaw and gets really quiet. 

he just nods and says, “that’s not your fault. he’s pathetic.” 

rin’s not the best with kids at first. he’s awkward, stiff, stands like a statue, but he’s trying so hard. 

your kid hands him a toy and rin just… holds it. like it’s a grenade. 

“do i… do i play with it?” 

but one afternoon, your kid falls asleep on his lap and something in him just softens. 

from then on, he’s all in. buys extra snacks for them, watches their shows even if he doesn’t get them. 

“this blue dog… why is he emotional?” 

“it’s bluey, rin. let it happen.” 

itoshi sae

you expect him to be judgmental. he’s not. at all. 

he hears “i’m a single mom” and just says “okay.” 

“you’re still hot. and you’re a good mom. sounds like a win to me.” 

he doesn’t ask about the father unless you bring it up. when you do, he’s indifferent on the outside, but furious on the inside. 

“he left? while you were pregnant?” 

you nod. 

he just hums and says, “if he shows up, tell him to meet me. i’ll ruin his life.” 

when he meets your kid, he keeps his usual cool attitude, but your child’s the only one who gets to see him smile freely. 

your kid: “can you make silly faces?” 

sae: “no.” 

also sae, five seconds later: pulling the most cursed expression you’ve ever seen. 

he buys expensive stuff for your kid without blinking – custom sneakers, private tutors, limited edition toys. 

“i like spoiling them. deal with it.” 

you catch him once, watching your kid sleep while he absentmindedly brushes their hair out of their face. 

he looks at you and says, “this is the only family i’ve ever actually wanted.” 

yeah. you cry. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

i’m so lonely it’s not even funny bye 😞

i like you, i do, from vi

ᰔ pairing . . . m. townsend !

ᰔ in which . . vi shows you random chats between the emotion reader & his partner

ᰔ . . . michael townsend + bf texts !

ᰔ category . . . fluff , smau , requested!

ᰔ tags . . . emotionally unreadable but secretly soft. sarcastic flirting. established relationship. smug boyfriend lol. reader being done™ but smitten. cereal is not soup discourse. emotionally intelligent teasing. chaotic texting. “shut up” means “i love you”. michael knows your tells. flustered!reader agenda. late-night banter. slowburn energy but post-burn. michael being annoying in love. use of "and" because "&" did not look good.

ᰔ look around . . . m. list && the naturals m. list

────── vi whispers . . . ᰔ

001. i only made four bc it's three in the morning rn💔💔

002. the naturals girlies... wake up... your uh. idk. mommy is back

003. tbh lercyswlrd is the mom

004. but let's pretend it's me..

005. im sorry for leaving y'all... i bought wine..

© MINORLYATFAULT 2025

woah woah woah this is so so good ml !!!!!!

PIPILIIN KA.. SA ARAW-ARAW!

m. townsend x f!reader

𝓢ynopsis: he'd choose you every day. he'd choose you so much he couldn't care less about the day to celebrate his birth.

𝓦arnings: grammatical errors. ooc(?). reader wears earrings. flirty!reader. drunk!reader. whipped!michael.

𝓝otes:

001. second part of thiissss!!

002. don't ask me ab how they arrived at the bar. there's a car. js imagine michael didn't know even tho he ws the one driving. oh & they parked it in a parking area where they still need to ealkto the bar lmdaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaooa

003. I HAVE NO IDEA HOW A BAR WORKS IM SORRY

004. there might be a p3z,idkdkidk

005. lets..... ignore the part in all in the casino,,,,, heehheeeee,,,, ws drinking(??? im pretty sure??? or ws it lia.. short-term memory 💔)

006. OHOH, & this shows what happened before he found you next to him, still asleep btw (like,,, the ending of p1)

michael wasn't even sure how it happened. one minute, you were changing into your dry clothes, the next thing he was being dragged through the darkened streets by you, your fingers digging into his wrist like you had a purpose. & now, here you guys are. you were in front of a bar, a wicked grin spreading across your face.

"this is a bad idea," he grumbled, but you only laughed, already pulling him in.

"hey, now, townsend. live a little."

getting in would have been impossible, but you had a plan. a thoughtful one, a worryingly thought through plan. you whipped out a fake id like you'd done it a thousand times(you made sloane make you one.), the bouncer hardly giving it a second look before nodding you past. michael only sent you a sigh.

inside, the music was deafening, the lights were low, & it reeked of booze & poor choices. you made straight for the bar, ordering drinks before michael could object.

"you know we shouldn't be drinking, right?" he asked, observing as you raised the glass to your lips.

"you worry too much." you leaned in close, mouth inches from his ear. "loosen up, birthday boy."

& and that's how he found himself here, in a booth together, with you sprawled over him, laughing like you'd just heard the world's greatest joke.

"you're sooo cute," you state, poking his cheek. "like, really, really cute. like▰if i didn't know you, i'd totally hit on you."

michael gulped, his ears reddening. "you do know me."

"i knooow," you drew the word out, your head rocking back in laughter. "& i did hit on you. worked out pretty well, huh?"

his heart was racing a mile a minute. he was used to your flirting, but not this way. not when your lips were so close, your body pushed up against his as if you never wanted to budge.

"you're drunk," he tells you, even as his hands settle into your waist, holding you up when you almost stumble over.

"so?" you pouted, running a finger down his chest. "doesn't mean i don't mean it. you're hot, townsend. stupidly hot."

michael groaned, leaning his head back against the booth. "you're gonna be the death of me."

"hmmm." you tilted your head, weighing. "nah. you're too tough for that." then, out of nowhere, you reached up & kissed him.

michael melted instantly, hands clenching on your waist as he kissed you back, slow & deep. he tasted the alcohol on your lips, but it was more than that, taste you▰warm & familiar & so fucking intoxicating.

when you finally broke away, you were smiling, eyes glassy. "told you. best birthday ever."

he gasped sharply, forehead to yours. "you're gonna regret this in the morning."

your lips kept meeting his cheek, & his cheek kept meeting your lips. honestly, those were the only things running in his mind.

"nope," you burst the "p," still grinning. "because i love you.” kiss. “like, lots. “ kiss. “like▰oh my god, michael▰like, tons.” kiss. “you're my favorite person in the whole world." kiss. kiss. kiss. you & your dumb handsome face & your▰"

michael laughed, raking his hand through his hair. "okay, time to take you home."

getting you out of the bar was a easy. getting you to release him? not quite.

"lemme walk," you complained as he picked you up in his arms, bridal style, & swept you towards his car.

"nope. you'll trip & bring me down with you."

"but it'd be so funny," you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. "admit it, townsend, you'd laugh."

michael just rolled his eyes, putting you gently in the passenger seat & buckling you in. "you're ridiculous."

"but you love me," you sang songed, kicking your feet. "you loooove me."

michael let out a sigh, a tiny smile playing on his lips as he began the car. "yeah, yeah. i do."

halfway home, you turned to him, eyes half closed but still shining. "you're my favorite, you know that?"

he looked at you, something warm in his chest. "yeah?"

"yeah," you nodded, dead serious. "like, in the whoooole world."

michael swallowed over the sudden constriction in his throat, leaning over to squeeze your hand. "you're my favorite too."

when you finally returned, he carried you in, laying you down on the bed.

"michael," you muttered, pulling on his sleeve. "too many accessories. take 'em off."

he huffed a laugh but indulged you, removing his watch, then your earrings, placing them on the nightstand with care.

"better?"

"mhmm," you sighed, eyelids drooping. "you're so good to me. i don't deserve you."

michael stroked a lock of hair from your face, his fingers impossibly gentle. "you deserve everything, sweetheart."

he kissed your forehead, tucking the blankets around you. as he settled in beside you, your hand wrapped around his, squeezing softly.

"best birthday ever." you whispered.

michael smiled against your hair. "yeah. best one yet. thank you, princess."

© minorlyatfault, 2025

—he loves her!

↪ rin is a private lover, not a secret one. but unfortunately for him, yoichi isagi still manages to figure out that his grumpy teammate has a girlfriend!

pairing: itoshi rin x fem!reader

if there was one thing all the teenage boys at blue lock were able to collectively share (besides their obsession for soccer) it would be the fact that none of them had a girlfriend. as talented as they were with soccer, their dating life wasn't exactly...on par.

at least, that's what they thought. it's late one night after practice when isagi is coming back from the showers, a towel wrapped around his hips and another thrown over his shoulders. he's yawning loudly—expecting to return to an empty room all to himself. but as he's shuffling around in the dark to find a shirt to slip into, he hears it.

the sound is soft and muffled, so quiet he almost misses it completely at first. he's not sure if his ears are playing some sort of a trick on him or what—but then he hears it again

a giggle.

albeit a little scared, isagi turns towards the direction of the sound. rin's bed is tucked into the corner of the room, and his back is facing isagi as he lays curled up under his blankets. they were draped loosely over his shoulders, and there's a dim light shining on the other side of him. isagi realizes he's on a call a second later when he hears rin speak

"i miss you."

isagi freezes, his body rigid with horror as he hears rin's tone—one he has never heard before. it was so sweet and so soft that he wondered if maybe it was someone else laying in rin's bed instead. perhaps an alien pretending to be his stoic teammate? that had to be it, right? since when did rin itoshi sound so sappy?

"i miss you too, rinnie. i still can't believe they won't let me visit you! maybe it's because they know you won't have enough space for all the gifts i want to bring you."

rin's response is quiet enough where isagi can't hear from his spot across the room—but he hears you laugh again. you have a pretty laugh, and isagi's lips twitch at the sound of it.

huh. out of all the people he deemed able to score a girlfriend, the last person he actually expected it to be was rin. the boy seemed more emotionally constipated than everyone else at blue lock combined—but you sound happy talking to him, and rin's back is relaxed from where isagi can see. curiously, he takes a step closer to rin's bed.

"soo! tell me about your new roommates! and the new guys on your team—i can't keep up with them now. anyone you like?" he hears you ask, and rin scoffs. isagi can't see rin's face, but he can imagine he's rolling his eyes. he doesn't want to admit it, but he does want to hear rin's response. praying he doesn't accidentally make a sound, isagi takes a tentative step closer to rin's bed.

"no. everyone is pissing me off—especially isagi. he has such a kickable face, y/n. you'll understand what i mean when you see him at the u-20 match." rin grumbles, and isagi doesn't even have the time to be offended by rin's words before he mistakingly perks up

"you're inviting her to the u-20 match?!"

isagi's eyes widen, and he slaps a hand over his mouth—mortified—as if he could pluck the words out of the air and quickly push them back down his throat. rin's back has gone absolutely stiff now, every muscle tensing up within a split second. he looked about a moment away from turning around before he hears your curious voice speak up

"rinnie, who is that?!" you question, and isagi can hear rin counting under his breath—a tactic he uses to calm himself down whenever shidou tries picking a fight with him—before he gently bid you goodbye.

"i have to go, y/n. i'll call you later, okay?" rin says, his voice scarily calm as you hum in response

"promise? i won't go to sleep until you do, rinnie! that bowl headed guy said i got at least an hour a day with you! who knew spamming him with so many emails a day would—"

"y/n."

"...yeah?"

"i love you. please hang up."

"...i'll be waiting patiently for your next call! please don't kill the guy who interrupted you. bye bye, rinnie!"

isagi hears the gentle ping! of the facetime call ending. rin sits up slowly from where he was once comfortably laying down, and he turns off the ipad before placing it on his bedside table. he turns to meet his teammate's gaze, and isagi swallows the lump in his throat at the sight of rin's face—holy shit he's so dead.

isagi most definitely wasn't supposed to interrupt rin's call with you—but he'd clearly intruded. honestly, he felt bad, but it was an honest mistake!

maybe it was just the sound of rin's voice that threw him off so much—isagi's never heard him talk like that. rin sounded....sad, saying he missed you. it was a moment of vulnerability for him, and the light pink dusting rin's cheekbones gave isagi a clear indicator that he was embarrassed.

"i'm going to count to five, isagi." rin says calmly, standing up slowly as isagi's eyes widen. as composed as rin was trying to appear, it looked like the vein on his forehead was about to pop with how hard he was clenching his jaw and burning a hole into isagi with nothing but his angry eyes

"h-huh?! wait—what happens when you get to five?!"

"i'm going to kill you."

"okay—if you're afraid i'm going to tell anyone about her, you're wrong! i won't, your secret's safe with me!" isagi laughs nervously, holding up his hands in surrender as rin blinks owlishly—before picking up the soccerball that had been resting idly by the foot of his bed

"i was counting to five in my head by the way."

the resounding sound of the ball bouncing off of isagi's skull and ricocheting off the walls was near comical. that night, rin doesn't try too hard to hide his ipad from isagi as he recounts the whole story for you, ignoring isagi's chirps in the background of that's not true! and how he took the soccer ball to the head like a champ!

regardless, isagi kept true to his word and kept rin's secret safe. sure, now he'd pop up behind rin every now and then in the middle of your calls, waving enthusiastically before promptly getting shoved out of frame by rin—his cameos were short lived, but pretty funny to you.

"—i'm hiding under my blankets. i wish the utensils in the cafeteria weren't plastic, otherwise i would've stabbed half the lukewarm idiots here already." rin grumbles as you laugh, watching him shuffle around in the dark

"so gory. ah, that reminds me! remember that horror game you were talking about rin-rin? right before you left? it's out! we can play together when you finish your training, okay? we can pull an all nighter on the weekend when you aren't busy—it'll be a blast!"

rin allows the smallest of smiles to grace his face. he pulls the blankets around him closer, thankful bachira had whisked away isagi for the night so he could talk to you freely once again—that idiot really liked popping into his calls, but rin managed to make a bunch more while unsuspecting isagi was out and about the facility.

"okay." rin says softly, blinking back the water building up in his eyes as he turns up the brightness of his ipad in the dark—your face shows up more clearer and brighter on the screen, and he listens to you talk about your day while you get ready for bed.

you're too busy putting on some sort of a face mask to see the hearts for eyes rin has while he watches you—he'll ruin his eyesight and gladly go blind if it means he can watch you through his screen like this. it was one of the reasons he called you on his ipad rather than his phone—so your face could be projected on a bigger screen for him to admire.

"rinnie? are you tired?"

rin yawns quietly with a nod, rubbing his eyes with a hum

"yeah. but don't hang up, we can just..."

"stay on call again?"

he nods quietly, rolling onto his side and closing his eyes. he hears you shuffling around before you're all tucked into bed too. you hold your phone close to your face—and rin bites the inside of his cheek at the sight.

no one knew it, but rin had trouble falling asleep at the blue lock facility the first night he arrived. the beds weren't too his liking and he was having trouble finding his way around the hundreds of halls that surrounded him—it was a maze, and his body would be tense with unease just about all the time.

the moment he scored enough goals to get electronic privileges, he ignored the weird stares he got and opted for his ipad rather than his phone—the first night he fell asleep soundly was when he fell asleep on a facetime call with you. while it was purely accidental, it worked out for both of you—and now it was your new mini ritual until he was out of here

"night, rinnie. dream of world domination and me, 'kay?" you whisper, and rin smiles with his eyes closed

"goodnight."

isagi wanders back into the shared room an hour later, quietly kicking off his cleats and slipping into his pajamas. he's about to go to sleep when he sees the telltale sign of the dim ipad light glowing from rin's side—he'd fallen asleep on call with you. again.

with a grin, isagi taps the end call button on the dark screen and carefully plugs rin's ipad into the charger, making sure not to wake his sleeping teammate. once that's done, he crawls into his own bed on the other side of the room with a yawn.

isagi was definitely going to tease rin about this in the morning, no doubt. but...it was nice to know his teammate wasn't as heartless as he once thought.

blue lock masterlist :P

𐙚 ˙ ⋆.˚ THE NATURALS MASTERLIST

➳ navigation. main masterlist.

➳ MICHAEL TOWNSEND;

uxorious;

[…]

➳ DEAN REDDING;

[…]

➳ LIA ZHANG

[…]

© gibsluv 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚎, 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕, 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔.

𐙚 ˙ ⋆.˚ BOYS OF TOMMEN MASTERLIST

➳ navigation. main masterlist.

➳ GERARD GIBSON;

[…]

➳ PATRICK FEELY;

[…]

➳ JOHNNY KAVANAGH;

[…]

➳ JOEY LYNCH;

[…]

➳ AOIFE MOLLOY;

[…]

➳ HUGHIE BIGGS;

[…]

© gibsluv 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚎, 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕, 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚢

UXORIOUS — someone who’s totally submissive to their significant other

— michael townsend x fem reader

➳ warnings: major fluff, whipped boyfriend, kissing, soft behavior, bad writing (english is not my first language and i didn’t edit…ups).

The moment he laid eyes on you, Michael Townsend fell in love with you.

He knew it was strange; after all, he was one of the people who screamed at the top of his lungs that love at first sight was pure nonsense and only existed in clichés and fairy tales, which, in his opinion, only little children and naive people believed in.

But for some reason, you changed that, which practically left everyone open-mouthed.

The truth is, Michael, even though having a photographic memory wasn’t his ability, he remembered every little detail of the day he met you and every word you said, not to mention how those little things made him feel.

He remembered the hot sun at 3:07 PM on July 19th, which had made his neck sweat and had also made some of his hair stick to his forehead. He remembered Agent Tanner’s voice when he announced a new member to the natural’s theme, and he certainly remembered how his throat had tightened and his heart had started to pound the moment you walked through the door.

Fuck, you were so beautiful; you are so beautiful.

He still remembered the white dress that had hugged your delicate curves, leaving his mouth dry, the way the summer sun had made your skin glow, making him feel stupid in front of everyone, how your slightly messy hair had made him bite his lip to hide a smile, and how his body had frozen when your hands touched, and when you had finally said your name.

From that day on, Michael knew he was completely whipped, and honestly, it was one of the first times he had expressed excitement about feeling emotions so openly.

And that’s exactly what he did.

Sitting in one of the chairs in the small office of the FBI’s naturals’ room, you let your tired eyes wander across the screen of the small laptop in front of you, which displayed some notes on the case you were trying to solve, while you fought against the drowsiness that seemed to be pushing you to close your eyes and fall asleep.

11:42 p.m.

Michael was leaning against the doorframe, his muscular arms crossed, and his messy brown hair swaying slightly as he watched you in silence, what felt like the thousandth time that night.

He knew you should be asleep. In fact, anyone who’d worked as hard as you did that day would already be out cold by now. But you never knew when was the time to stop, and that left him torn between thinking you were the most determined and intelligent person he knew or the craziest.

The cold light from the laptop screen illuminated your face even more, highlighting the small crease between your eyebrows and the fatigue taking over your already sleepy eyes. He recognized that look; he had seen it too many times, more times than he liked to admit. He knew you were fighting against sleep, insisting on staying awake, even though your body was begging you to do the opposite.

Michael let out a soft sigh, finally pushing himself off the wall and walking over to you, stopping behind your chair, leaning slightly forward to better see the face of the person who made his heart almost leap out of his chest.

Your hair was a bit messier than usual, one of your hands resting on your head while the other lazily slid across the laptop’s touchpad, and you didn’t have the most pleasant expression at that moment. But even so, to him, you were still so beautiful that he could feel his knees starting to weaken.

Fuck, sometimes it was hard to believe that you were his, or rather, that he was yours.

Without saying a word, Michael placed his hands on your tense delicate shoulders and began to massage them slowly, his thumbs pressing into the tight spots on the sides of your neck while he placed soft, gentle kisses on your head. And he couldn’t help but let out a little laugh when he felt your body flinch reflexively before you finally relaxed under his touch, letting out a sigh falling from your lips.

That felt so good.

“It’s almost midnight, baby,” he murmured against the top of your head, leaning down to place another soft kiss there, another smile slipping out of his lips when he heard your giggles. “I think that’s enough for today, or would you rather stay here frying your pretty brain?”

You mumbled something unintelligible—something that, to him, sounded suspiciously like a curse—but you didn’t protest when he calmly reached for your laptop’s mouse and closed the document before you could even complain.

“Michael…” you murmured, your voice heavy with sleep as you turned slightly to look at him, your face flushing when you realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt and how close he was.

Damn these teenage hormones. And damn your insanely handsome, unbelievably hot boyfriend.

He smiled against your head at your reaction, feeling satisfied knowing he had the same effect on you as you had on him. Then, he slid his arms around your shoulders, pulling you against his bare chest, hugging you from behind. Making you feel the warmth of his skin against yours and sending a familiar rush of butterflies through both of your stomachs—just like it always did, no matter how many times you’ve done this before.

Your body molded perfectly against his, like it was meant to be there—and honestly, it was. And Michael took his time, appreciating the moment, letting himself hold you just a little longer. His nose brushed gently against your hair, and he inhaled deeply, breathing in the familiar scent of your shampoo, a quiet sigh leaving his lips as he tightened his hold around you.

“No excuses,” he murmured, his voice full of affection but with a firmness you knew all too well. “Come to bed with me. You promised I’d be your personal heater, remember? Or do you want to break the deal and crush my poor heart?”

You chuckled softly at the usual drama, tilting your head back against his shoulder.

“And what if I say I need five more minutes?” you teased, fully aware that there was no point in arguing with him when it came to you or your well-being.

You were his top priority since the moment he saw you.

Michael rolled his eyes, pretending to be irritated, though it was clear that wasn’t the case—at least not with you. The truth was, he loved this little game between the two of you.

Well, he loved everything that involved you, especially.

“I’d say you’re the most annoying person I know,” he replied, his lips brushing against your hair as he spoke, as if he couldn’t imagine being apart from you. “And still, I’m completely in love with you, just like a good boyfriend I am.”

You smiled softly, your fingers lazily intertwining with his, as if you were finally ready to surrender to the exhaustion.

“Okay… okay I’m going to bed but just because I’m almost dying.” And because, honestly, you didn’t know how to deny him anything when he said such sweet words.

Michael smiled back, feeling satisfied. But before letting you stand up, he turned his face slightly and pressed a soft yet firm kiss to the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder, making you hold your breath.

Your poor heart.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered against your skin before he stood on his feet, gently pulling you up with him, making you grumble at the loss of contact. “Let’s go to my… ups, our bed,” he corrected.

11:59 PM.

But just before you two reached the door, you stopped suddenly, causing his bare chest to bump slightly into you. He looked down at you, curious, and when he saw that little smirk on your pretty tentatively lips, he knew something was about to happen.

Without a word, you gently pulled him by the neck, bringing him closer until your bodies were pressed more tightly together than they had been just moments before, your warm breath grazing his skin. Michael felt his heart race even more—not only because he was so close to you again, but because he genuinely didn’t feel brave enough to ask what you were planning.

You looked into his eyes, smiling softly. And before he could say another word, you pulled him into a kiss, as gentle as it was, making him melt under your touch.

The taste of your lips made him lose himself in the moment, his fingers finding your waist, while the kiss deepened and you both felt your tongues touching again and again…

“Okay, I’m definitely not complaining, but what was that?” he asked when you finally broke the kiss, blinking slightly, his cheeks flushed.

You smiled at him, a mischievous yet genuine grin that thank God he knew well, but that still made him swallow hard.

“Happy birthday, Michael,” you murmured softly, still close enough for him to feel the vibration of your voice in his ears and chest.

He stood there, speechless for a moment, the world around him disappearing as he allowed himself to feel the love of simply being with you, feeling you. But before he could respond, you whispered in that relaxing tone only you had…

“And now, we can go to our bed.”

He smiled, his heart racing 200 beats per second. Yes, he was definitely completely whipped, but in a way he would never trade.

© gibsluv 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚎, 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕, 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔.

don’t mind me guys, i’m saving this forever 🤏🏻

💌

💌 lua, i just love everything about you. your humor is everything—texting you makes me laugh so hard because your jokes match my sense of humor perfectly idk how (we’re soulmates that’s why) !! your energy is so contagious too. when you’re excited, you have this way of making everyone else feel excited with you, and i love that so much. you’ll be telling me about your new writings and ideas with so much enthusiasm, and i’ll start feeling happy too as if i’m the one coming up with them. i love how unapologetically you share your interests, never trying to cater to anyone, just posting and writing whatever you want. talking to you in general is just so peaceful and i love that we share so many of the same interests—especially since you actually read the books i recommend, so now we can talk about everything together. even your looks?? everything about your face and your outfits is just perfection. and your voice too, i love listening to you so much. and even if you’ve moved on from mattheo, he’ll always be our sidechick in marriage LMFAOO plus now gibsie, johnny, joey, and michael too.

ask game

— underground fighter mattheo fucking you on a break;

(+18) mini drabble.

➳ nav post. masterlist. moodboard.

mattheo riddle x fem reader. warnings: smut (mdni), pnv, mattheo being a dick, orgasm denial, pussy slapping, mentions to blood, swearing, degradation, violence (he’s a fighter).

mattheo’s breathing was out of control, his chest was rising and falling as his fists pounded his opponent. the adrenaline was taking over his body so violently that his blood seemed ready to explode from his veins; he could barely hear the screams of the crowd, who seemed furious as soon they realized they were going to lose yet another bet and money because of him.

you were a little further away than usual, clutching the small microphone between your fingers as you sat among the other organizers of the event, observing the bloody fight before you. you looked at the fight, thinking if you should feel intimidated by the force mattheo was using to give blow after blow on his opponent, or by the poor man now on the ground beneath mattheo, coughing up blood and desperately trying to get the possessed champion off of him.

the two options seemed interesting enough for ya, but from the crowd's point of view, the fight was already getting repetitive.

he always won, and it was getting tiring for everyone.

you massaged your temples, cursing under your breath, ignoring the confused looks the other organizers shot your way, the gears of your brain grinding as you thought about a way to make the fight more interesting. but nothing came. with no better option, you quickly got up and made your way toward the center of the ring with determined steps.

some of the angry people in the crowd turned their gazes to you, their eyes almost stripping you naked and making you shift uncomfortably as you made your way. yet, they knew better than to do something to you. your connection to the underground and your strange connection with mattheo—who now was pressing his opponent’s head against the bloodied floor—was enough to scare them away.

mattheo’s smirk widened when his eyes met yours, almost like he was saying that the victory and the money were already his.

at least that was what he thought, until he saw you bringing a microphone to your lips and heard the words that would make him furious. “let’s take a short break.” you said, trying to ignore mattheo’s murderous glare and focusing on the sighs of relief from those worried about losing money. “the fight will be back in 15 minutes.”

mattheo was beyond pissed, his bloody fists clenched at his sides before he gave you one last look and stormed off the ring. the crowd was still buzzing, but you could tell mattheo wasn’t interested in the break in that moment, so as soon as he entered one of the dark hallways of the cage, you followed him, calling out his name and receiving angry shouts in return.

and before either of you realized, mattheo’s cock was inside your wet folds, fucking you hard while you struggle to catch your breath.

“fuck, mattheo!” you bite back a moan, your thighs shaking from the force of his strong thrusts into your cunt and the way his fingers kneaded your flesh, leaving bloody handprints on your soft skin—handprints that would probably bruise later, but you didn't seem to care; his cock felt too fucking amazing opening your walls for you to do so.

“you like this, don’t y’a, bitch?” mattheo’s callous fingers dug even deeper into your thighs, his blood-soaked bandages tracing your curves with crimson as the pressure of his hips against yours increased more and more. “you like it when i fuck your desperate cunt, even after what you did? like you actually matter, don’t y’a?”

mattheo let out a raspy chuckle against your ear, his cock sinking even deeper into your silky folds as you nodded eagerly in response.

both of you could hear the screams of the crowd and the loud music coming from the ring at the other side of the hallway, the anxiety of being caught sending shocks of pleasure straight from his cock to your sensitive cunt—almost as if he had transmitted all the remaining adrenaline in his body to yours through the violent thrusts of his hips, tearing your inner walls apart.

“what now? y’a can’t handle the consequences of the shit you did?” his voice was raspier than usual, and he chuckled when he heard your whimpers—whimpers that, from his perspective, were nothing more than pathetic excuses to make him stop fucking you like the slut he knew you were. “what excuse of a pathetic bitch you are, huh?”

you nodded stupidly, only to feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you at your own pathetic attitude. your head spun as the burning sensation in your soaked folds grew stronger with each thrust, his cock slamming into you at a merciless pace.

he fucked you and tore you apart like you were nothing more than a doll, something to be used for his pleasure—nothing more than an outlet for the adrenaline he couldn’t shake off in the ring.

your only purpose was that.

“mattheo—”

“shut up, fucking slut,” he hissed between gritted teeth, clenching his bloodied hands on your thighs even more, his cock fucking you harder as he felt your pussy squeezing him desperately with each clumsy but precise pushings of his length.

mattheo’s bloody hands released your thighs, already marked by his blood, to move to your covered waist, pressing down and leaving crimson stains on the white fabric of your white shirt, but he only squeezed your waist tighter, burying his hips harder against your wet cunt, as if he was trying to distract you from the marks he’d left.

a smirk curled on his lips, knowing you’d be furious when you saw the dirty shirt.

“do you think it’s fair?” he began, each word being accompanied with another thrust. “making me leave the fucking ring when i was about to win the fucking fight?” he asked, trying to put his cock even deeper into your dripping pussy, though he knew it was already impossible—he was buried so deep that he was sure his dick could stay there, lost in your heat.

you didn’t respond, too focused on the sensation of being filled so good.

mattheo let out an irritated growl, his hand gripping your chin forcefully, smearing blood onto your skin and spreading it down to your neck. “when i ask you something, you fucking respond!” he snarled. each word came with a thrust—each thrust a new sensation of pleasure and pain for your pussy and a fresh wave of dominance for his cock.

“no.” you managed to respond between moans, your eyes closing as you tried to find the right words while you felt your pussy being filled, your orgasm almost there. “i don’t think it’s fair,” you said, almost cursing yourself for how ridiculous you sounded.

this man made you lose your goddamn mind; you fucking hated him!

“fuck yeah~,” he began, moving his cock inside your pussy more slowly. “just like i needed to hear,” he murmured, and without waiting for another word, he pulled his cock out from inside your tight walls, making you gasp at the lack of contact.

you blinked confused, your chest rising and falling as you struggled to catch your breath. slowly, your eyes to meet his, and even though his pupils were dilated, they still carried that cynical, almost eager look, a look that only seemed to increase as he caught the furious look you were giving him.

“why did you fucking stop?” you asked angrily, your pussy clenching around nothing in a desperate attempt to stop the frustration. “i was about to cum, fucking asshole!”

mattheo let out a dry, amused laugh, almost as if he couldn’t believe your audacity. you had interrupted his fight, and now you were mad that he had interrupted your orgasm? a little hypocritical on your part—if you asked him.

“well, you have fingers,” he mocked you, bringing his hand close to your pussy before slapping your soaked cunt. the sound echoing through the room, making you whimper as a red imprint stained on your skin, “use them, since you’re so fucking desperate.” he chuckled.

without another glance, he put on his pants and turned on his heel, ready to walk away.

“are y’a fucking kidding me, riddle?!” you asked angrier than before, knowing the other organizers would make questions if they didn’t see you in the ring at time.

“i’m fucking serious, miss,” he purred over his shoulder, a mocking smirk playing at the corner of his lips, and he almost laughed when he saw your fingers teasing your greedy cunt for some sort of relief.

“oh, and before i go… just a little warning,” he stopped in his tracks, his eyes locking onto yours.

“what, now?!”

“before you enter the ring, change your shirt,” mattheo said with mockery. you blinked confuse, making him laugh as he pointed to the bloody handprints on the white fabric. “it's a little dirty, y’a know?” his smirk widened, making you look down at your shirt. your blood boiled when you saw the prints staining it.

“you son of a bitch!” you screamed in his direction, the words practically burning with anger. but he didn’t even flinch. with that same smug smirk playing on his lips, he turned around and started walking away, completely ignoring your shouts.

mattheo’s focus was on winning the fight, and maybe, just maybe, making you lose some clients in the process.

© gibsluv; 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚎, 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕, 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔.

in my drafts since december :p comments and reblogs are super welcome and they motivate me a lot, so feel free to interact! 💘

𐙚 ˙ ⋆.˚ BOOK CHARACTERS MASTERLIST

➳ nav post. main masterlist.

➳ BOYS OF TOMMEN;

— gerard gibson; — patrick feely; — shannon lynch; — aoife molloy; — joey lynch; — johnny kavanagh; — claire biggs;

[…]

➳ BETTER THAN THE MOVIES;

— wes bennett; — liz buxbaum;

[…]

➳ RIODANVERSE;

— percy jackson; — leo valdez; — annabeth chase; — jason grace; — piper mclean;

[…]

© riddleshire 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚎, 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕, 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔.

and if? hm, and if?

🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

https://x.com/sensualarchives/status/1892277877170696505?s=46

peacekeeper coryo

🔗 (plink)

mmmm peacekeeper!coryo who’s obsessed with his pretty slut from district 12. he’d make fun of the way you practically beg for it, pleading snow—that’s how he orders you to address him, never by his first name—to make you feel good. he didn’t expect anything else from district scum, though. you’re useless anyway, except when it comes to giving him pleasure. the way he degrades you, fucks you and slaps you until you’re all bruised up and sore causes him to relish the power it gives him. you’re his. his toy to use whenever he wants to. and he won’t hesitate to hurt, or maybe even kill, whoever touches what’s his. “you’re mine now, you understand? mine to kiss, mine to touch, mine to use.”

inactive bc wtf is happening w my life

i'm here - joey lynch x reader

pairing: joey lynch x fem!reader

warnings: flufffffff, swearing + a lil angst

a/n: BELLE BELLE BELLE DO YOU SEE ME?? IM WRITING JOEY LYNCH FICS FOR YOU!! LOVE YOU POOKIE <33 (i've kept this surprisingly spoiler free as well!!) also pls ignore my delusional ass over here writing fics late at night-

joey lynch is a protector.

its his way of being. he's been that way all his life. constantly looking after his siblings when their parents couldn't.

so you take it upon yourself to be joey's protector - much to his disgruntlement.

so when you find the space next to you on your bed empty and cold. you know he's having nightmares again.

fighting with your very sleepy brain - which should shut up by the way - you roll out of bed, wrap a discarded blanket from your shrek movie marathon earlier and go in search for joey.

the nightmares aren't a regular thing - not anymore at least, that you are very grateful for - but when they do plague joey he falls into the downward spiral of think he's not good enough for you. which of course is absolute nonsense.

pulling the blanket tighter around you, you slip out through the balcony door and out into the crisp night where a shirtless and haunted looking joe sits with his head in his hands on a half broken chair - curtsey of the hotel you were staying in.

"hey you," you say softly approaching him. you're eyes definitely don't stray down to his bare chest... not at allllll.

joey's head snaps up, noticing you for the first time. "hey, what are you doing out here? go back to bed baby."

shaking your head you determinedly open the blanket and wrap it around him wincing at the coldness of his skin. how long has he been out here?

"nahh, if you're out here so am i."

joey already knowing that there is no point in arguing with you, stands up and picks you up bridal style, blanket and all bringing you back inside and gently places you back on your bed before closing the door again.

he busies himself fixing the duvet cover and pillows on the bed ignoring the knowing looks you're sending him.

"joe."

he looks at you. "y/n."

"do you want to talk about it?"

"no."

"joe."

he's quiet for a bit probably contemplating what he should tell you.

"it was the same one." his voice is quiet, soft. you know joey doesn't like talking about these dreams so you don't push it. "but different this time." he takes a deep breath and looks at you with resigned eyes. "i lost you. cause of the... cause of the...."

"i know," you whisper. unwrapping yourself from the blanket, rounding the bed and coming to stand in front of the broken boy in front of you.

"but hey," your eyes fill with tears as you look at the defeated look in his eyes. he really believes that it could be true. he really believes that you would- could leave him. "i'm here. and i'm not going anywhere. joe- joe look at me." when he refuses you step closer between his legs and cup his face. "joseph lynch, you look at me."

joey's pained eyes meet yours and your heart breaks for him. for the amount of shit he's been through. for all the years he had no one to turn to. now he has you, and you have every intention of making sure that joey lynch is fucking loved and cared for.

"i love you. and it would take a very very very big group of people to take me away from you- even then don't get your hopes up because believe it or not joey there is something in my soul that is connected to yours and in every life time, every life time i will find you." you press a soft kiss to his forehead. "so don't even think for one second that i'm going to leave you. you're my joey. and i don't plan on giving you up. so im sorry but you're kinda stuck with me."

joey's eyes shine with barely restrained love as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in, squeezing your waist tightly.

"i love you baby," he whispers against your midriff. "so much."

running your hands through his blonde hair you press a kiss to his head, "love you too baby."

you stay that way for a while, joey wrapped tightly around you and you pressing soft kisses to his head until joey leans back taking you with him.

"joey!" you laugh toppling over on top of him.

"yes?" he hums as he adjusts you both so you're facing each other with your legs intertwined.

"nothing," you smile and press a kiss to the tip of his nose, his green eyes shining beautifully in the moonlight.

joey grins and pulls you closer by the waist pressing a soft, yearning kiss to your lips.

you both fall asleep to your hushed whispers in the dark, promises and loving kisses.

"love you baby..."

[taglist] @lxvebelle

a/n pt2: THE WAY I NEED ME SOME JOEY LYNCH IS UNFORGIVABLE sleep delusion reaaaally got to me at the end there- hope you liked it babes <33

I KNEW YOU WERE GOING TO EAT, AND I WAS FUCKING RIGHT!!! everything about this just screams perfection, and i’ll say it to anyone who’ll listen!!!

to snow, this was a disaster. he could feel his ticket to that plinth prize slowly slipping through his fingers- he had to do something.

the scenario, the imagery, and the fact that he’s nervous about losing his precious prize?!? THIS IS SO GOOD, HELLO??? that’s snow for me 🙂‍↕️

but snow was selfish. he didn't really care about your survival - he cared about what your survival meant to him.

this is perfection. the fact that he said this after falsely sweet-talking her to get what he wanted—holly shit, this is insanely accurate, and you’re writing him so well

snow wasn't going to let you ruin his life any further.

eyes, snow momentarily saw you as a human rather than a project- as someone just like him. but he quickly shook the ridiculous thoughts from his head.

and you were worried about not writing him accurately?! stfu, this is coriolanus snow in flesh and bones

by the way, I LOVED the detail that he saw her as human for just a moment, only to quickly dismiss the idea because she’s from the districts—she’s nothing more than an animal to him

arina you’re a fucking genius !!!!

you gasped when his fingers unexpectedly touched you between your legs, causing you to furrow your brows. snow reassuringly nodded at you, non-verbally letting you know that it was okay.

ok sooooo… now i have the permission to be a slut? yes? very well 🤭🤭

his fingers gently rubbed your cunt over your underwear, movements slow and careful, as if afraid to scare you away. when he noticed you gradually melting under his touch, he slid your panties to the side, his signature smirk growing when he felt just how wet you already were.

no thoughts… just this 💦💦💦💦 literally you write smut so vividly, i love your writing style so much

i’m imagining one of the other tributes pretending to be asleep and seeing this, lmaooo—it’s still hot tho 🤌🏻

pause, because i need to say—her emotions are so well-written that i feel like i can experience the same things as her: the nervousness for the games and the reassurance from coryo’s fake promises 😖😖 i’m aushhshs

his lips hearing the exact words he wanted you to say. he had you under his control now — you were his.

FUCKING YES, i love possessive coriolanus jsjsjsj

this was so, so good, and i’m really glad you wrote this 🤭

i’m wet

hi pretty girl idk if zoya already sent this in but in case she didn’t, here’s a little coryo request 😇

coryo fingers reader through the bars while she’s locked in the cage and all the other tributes are sleeping… super sweet cute innocent request!!!

thank u angel 💋🫂

coryo fingering you through the bars of the zoo cage while the other tributes are sleeping…

“one more day until the games. are you ready?” snow, your mentor, didn’t know why he was even asking— clearly, you weren’t ready. you couldn’t even meet his gaze through the metal bars in the zoo, trembling as you fidgeted with your fingers. to snow, this was a disaster. he could feel his ticket to that plinth prize slowly slipping through his fingers— he had to do something.

“hey, look at me. it’ll be alright, i promise. i’ll do everything i possibly can to make sure you’ll survive.” but snow was selfish. he didn’t really care about your survival— he cared about what your survival meant to him. his mind was working overtime, scrambling for ways to calm you down.

“come closer.” he then ordered, seeing only one possible way to make you relax. it was tricky, but it had to be done. snow wasn’t going to let you ruin his life any further. you hesitantly approached him, settling onto your knees as close to the bars as possible, gazing up at him with a puzzled expression.

seeing the shimmering in your eyes, snow momentarily saw you as a human rather than a project— as someone just like him. but he quickly shook the ridiculous thoughts from his head. he wasn’t like you, and he never would be.

“do not make a noise. i’m here to help, okay? we need you to calm down if you want to win tomorrow.” you nodded, having no other choice but to let your mentor take control. after all, he knew what was best for you. oh, how lucky snow was to have such a naive girl as his tribute.

his hand carefully moved towards you through the bars, his eyes sharply glancing at the sleeping tributes, making sure they wouldn’t suspect a thing. you gasped when his fingers unexpectedly touched you between your legs, causing you to furrow your brows. snow reassuringly nodded at you, non-verbally letting you know that it was okay.

his fingers gently rubbed your cunt over your underwear, movements slow and careful, as if afraid to scare you away. when he noticed you gradually melting under his touch, he slid your panties to the side, his signature smirk growing when he felt just how wet you already were.

with a focused expression on his face, his digits carefully slipped into your dripping entrance, stretching you out. your first instinct was to close your legs at the foreign intrusion by your mentor, out of all people. it felt wrong, your heart pounding in your chest as you worried about the other tributes hearing you. but when his fingers quickly found your sweet spot, your legs widened, craving for more.

“promise me you’ll do your best tomorrow.” he demanded, blue eyes fixed on your expression, feeling satisfaction as he watched you relax more and more. unlike you, snow didn’t feel that same sense of depravity. as always, he found ways to justify his actions, to make him sleep better at night. he was simply taking care of his tribute. isn’t that what he was supposed to do?

“i need you to say it.” he urged once more, his eyes narrowing as his fingers came to a halt and pulled out. you whined at the sudden loss of contact, your nearing orgasm slowly ebbing away as your eyes shot wide open. snow’s expression grew more stern this time, his usual charming and caring facade slipping for a split second.

“i will— i will do whatever it takes to survive! i promise i’ll do anything you tell me to!” you whispered desperately, eyes pleading for him to continue, hips helplessly wiggling. a satisfied, sly smile danced on his lips hearing the exact words he wanted you to say. he had you under his control now— you were his.

for my loves @riddleshire and @leona-hawthorne <3

Ruin You

Mattheo Riddle, an incubus, is used to getting his way. But when he falls for you --the one girl immune to his charms -- and learns of your innocence, he's overcome with the want to ruin you for anyone else.

MDNI! corruption kink, praise, fingering, unprotected piv, semi-public sex, creampie, loss of virginity, incubus!mattheo x fem!reader, I am not responsible for your media consumption

w/c: 1.6k

in response to this request!

masterlist au list

a/n: first smut ever!! I hope this lives up to all the expectations! <3

Seduction came to Mattheo Riddle as if it was his mother tongue – natural, unhurried. He knew exactly what to say, how to say it, and the way to angle his smirk just right to make people weak in the knees. His smile was devastating, his voice rich and deep, his touch always featherlight yet never failing to leave a scorching heat behind. He thrived off sexual innuendos, his existence woven into every fantasy and every intimate thought that flitted through every mind.

But you seemed to be immune to his charms.

Remaining blissfully ignorant to his attempts, you somehow escaped every interaction with the demon entirely untouched by the sin that dripped from his lips. It was confusing, infuriating, yet somehow intoxicating; only serving to make him thirst for more. 

“You know,” he purred, leaning closer to where you sat in the common room. “If you ever need help with anything, I’m here. You only have to ask.” 

You blinked up at him, and a wholesome smile spread across your lips. “That’s so sweet of you, Matty. You’re such a good friend.” 

He nearly choked on his own spit at your response. Friend? He was a literal demon of temptation and desire, and yet you thought his actions were friendly? 

His flirtations only escalated after that. Every smirk, wink, lingering touch, was only met with a beaming smile or polite nod. You were a puzzle, a challenge. He wanted to figure you out – to understand how to get his message across. And yet he found himself drawn to you in other ways; ones that weren’t driven solely by physical need.

Then he heard the rumors.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He was just drinking at a party like usual, when he heard Pansy’s voice. “Y/n’s a virgin? Makes sense I guess. But with a face like that, I expected more,” he heard her say. 

He felt the world tilt for a moment, and not from the alcohol he was drinking. Everything in him was screaming, the depraved part of him clawing at the edges of his restraint. A virgin. Pure. Untouched.

His body ached at the thought, and the demonic part of him longed to find you and corrupt you, defile you. But the last thing he wanted was for you to see him as he was – a monster, a predator, a creature of hunger and lust. He wanted you desperately, needed you even, but he would never force anything on you.

For the first time in his life, Mattheo Riddle was at a complete loss for what to do.

Although it was difficult, Mattheo tried to distance himself after that revelation. He told himself that it was for your own good, that you were better off without him, that he would ruin you if he got too close. 

But the more he resisted, the more unbearable the distance from you became. He still heard your laugh echoing throughout the corridors, still caught glimpses of you in the Great Hall, still felt the echo of your innocent touches that lingered, their memory like a brand seared into his skin. 

However, you noticed the change in his behavior almost instantly, and began to wonder if you’d done something wrong.

“Matty?” You asked one day, your voice soft and uncertain. You’d caught him just after curfew, when everyone was meant to be heading to their dorms. “Are you mad at me? Have I done something?” 

Mattheo’s fists clenched at his sides, not able to stand the way your doe eyes were filled with guilt and concern. No fear, no anger, no suspicion, just pure and genuine worry. It broke his heart, and he had to look away. “No angel, you didn’t do anything.” 

You tilted your head in confusion, and your brows furrowing. “Then why have you been avoiding me?” 

His mouth floundered as he searched for something to say. What could he possibly say that wouldn’t scare you? That wouldn’t hurt you? Yet he couldn’t bring himself to lie either. “You wouldn’t understand,” he muttered, giving a non-answer while shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Then explain it to me,” you said, looking up at him expectantly.

Finally, his eyes meet yours. You stood firm, gaze unwavering, arms crossed over your chest. The sight of you, so determined, so concerned, made him snap. 

“You drive me mad, you know that? Every time you smile at me, every goddamn touch, makes me go absolutely insane. I want you so bad… I wanna ruin you for anyone else.

“So? Who said I didn’t feel the same way, Matty?”

He stared at you in utter disbelief. “But all the hints I threw-” 

“Yeah, I get those now,” you grumble. “After I realize you share the same feelings. I just… didn’t want to assume.” 

He scoffs and takes a step closer. “So you want this too?” 

As soon as you nod, he’s on you. His lips crashed against yours, desperate and hungry, his fingers tangling in your hair, tugging lightly, as he backed you against the wall. One hand slid to the small of your back, pressing you flush against him, and you could feel his desire pressing against you. The kiss was fervent, full of pent-up desire, yet beneath the urgency there was tenderness. 

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he whispered between kisses, his breath hot on your skin. “I’ve wanted this for so long. You’re so fucking perfect.” 

His hands were warm as they slid under your shirt, pushing it up and over your head. Your bra was next, falling away to meet your shirt, and you should have been mortified of being so exposed in the common room. But you couldn't find it in yourself to care. Not when his touch ignited something within you that you never knew was there, not when his lips brushed against your ear, whispering sweet praises that made your stomach tighten with need.

His own shirt was next, falling into the growing pile of clothes forgotten on the floor. Hands finding your hips, he spun you around, and you immediately braced yourself against the wall. The stone was hard and cold against your hands, and the cold air of the common room caused your nipples to pebble. His touch drifted down your back, before slipping under your skirt to rub against your core. Letting out a gasp of surprise, your hips jolted towards his touch, earning a soothing hum from the man behind you.

“I’ll be gentle, okay? So fucking gentle,” he murmured as he moved your panties to the side. Two fingers slipped inside your cunt with ease, earning a whine from you. 

“Fuck. You're so tight. So wet,” he groaned as he curled his fingers, hitting that spongy spot that made you see stars. “I really am the only one to touch you like this? Gonna be the first and last, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you moaned, head falling forward as a knot started to form in your belly.

His fingers picked up their pace, pumping and curling just right, just enough to drive you dangerously close to the edge. “I want you to promise, angel. Promise me I’ll be the only one to ever see this beautiful pussy of yours.” 

You nodded enthusiastically, but that didn't satisfy him. Right as you were about to finish, he tore his hand away from you, leaving you teetering on the brink. The loss and emptiness made you whimper, but when you heard him unbuckling his belt, anticipation replaced the frustration. The suspense made you tense, your thighs pressing together in search of relief.

The head of his cock brushed against your entrance, teasing, but he didn't move. “I want to hear you say it. Promise me, angel.”

“I promise,” you whined, growing impatient from the loss of sensation. You wanted him desperately.

That was all he needed to hear, his hips surging forward, thrusting into you with one swift motion. A choked gasp escaped your lips, the stretch making you wince. He stilled, letting you adjust, though his grip on your hips tightened like he was barely holding himself back.

“So fucking perfect,” he groaned, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. Your fingers curled against the wall, and when you started to squirm, he took that as a hint to move. His first thrust was slow, gentle. It was your first time after all. But eventually his restraint snapped. His rhythm was deep and deliberate, fucking into you as if this was the last thing he'd ever do.

One hand snaked around your body to rub tight circles on your clit that made your knees buckle. He caught you, keeping you upright as his pace never faltered. 

“Feel so good. Like you were made for me,” he moans, his voice raw. 

His continued ministrations made pressure build once again, white-hot pleasure beginning to curl insistently in your stomach. You could feel it, the inevitable, and his increasingly erratic movements were a tell-tale sign that he was close too. 

“Come for me,” he whispered, coaxing you. “Prove to me how perfectly you were made for me.”

Pleasure crashed over you, blinding and all-consuming. You tightened and fluttered around him, eliciting a guttural moan from deep within his throat. He followed soon after, burying himself deep with a groan. 

For a moment, neither of you moved, lost in the shock of what had just happened. Then he pulled out and turned you around, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“You did perfect, just like I knew you would.”

tag list: @mattyriddlesbitch @sturniolover13 @thereeallink @voidangxls @riddleswhcre @riddleshire

i need stepbro enzo so so so bad, i might die

PLS i beg of more stepbro!theo ones. Ur work.. Its toooo good.

ALSO. UH. Am I the only one who can picture stepbro!enzo but literally the biggest pervert ever? Like.. icky and truly disgusting.

But we love that.

oh oh ive also had another ask asking me about stepbro!enzo so lets talk about it !!!!!! he’s very shameless and not so subtle about his desire for you— lots of teasing comments, inappropriate touches as you walk past, and hungry eyes staring at your body. he’d even fuck you downstairs on the living room couch while your parents are in their room sleeping. he just doesn’t care one bit. consequences of being caught? not even a thought in his mind. the only thing he cares about at that moment is you, and how fucking bad he needs to feel you. not only that, he’d even brag about it to his friends, telling them in great detail how you feel, what your moans sound like, and how you look like when you cum. stepbro!enzo just doesn’t give a fuck !

─ .✦ DAY TWO | [02/15] : MATTHEO.

prythian's princess presents... day two of the valentine special ⋆.˚ .ᐟ please give a big round of applause as we welcome mattheo into the mix. the true definition of bloody, slutty, and pathetic.

[blood kink] — an unconventional sexual interest in blood. people with a blood kink may be aroused by seeing, touching, or tasting blood.

[knife play] — a form of consensual bdsm edgeplay involving knives, daggers, and swords as a source of physical and mental stimulation.

home ✦ special ✦ more

there was something seriously wrong with mattheo riddle.

within him was a festering desire, an insatiable craving that he could neither deny nor satisfy. his appetite hungered for something dark, depraved, and demented, an abomination yearning to be fulfilled. mattheo never thought that he would unleash the monster within him.

until you.

most of the time, he was able to control it, but sometimes mattheo just needed release and you were the perfect person to give it to him.

pretty brown eyes blinked down at you, his gaze clouded with lust and desire as mattheo dragged the tip of his dagger down your body. you were stripped bare and spread out so prettily for him, your wrists bound above your head with his emerald and silver tie. you bit your lip as the sharp edge of his blade caressed your skin like a lover's embrace.

it always amazed him how eager you were, how responsive your body was to the depraved acts that he inflicted upon you. anyone else would have balked at the carnality of his nature, but you seemed enthralled by every fucked up thing that mattheo desired. probably because you were just as fucked up as he was.

even now, you moaned in pleasure as mattheo carved his initials into your inner thigh. a normal person would have ran for the hills at the question he had posed at the beginning of the night, but mattheo had seen the glimmer in your eyes. the absence of judgment as you undressed and presented your body to him without hesitation.

"do you like it when I carve you up, baby?" mattheo hummed, his heavy lidded gaze examining his work with appreciation.

"yes," you answered in a breathy voice. "make me yours, matty."

mattheo sucked in a breath. the blood rushed out his head and straight to his cock. “I will, princess. after tonight, everyone will know who you belong to.”

as he traced his fingers over the m and r permanently carved into your skin, mattheo felt the monster within him sigh in satisfaction. the constant buzzing of his thoughts stopped all at once at the sight of his initials slashed onto your flesh like a brand. a declaration that you belonged to him and him alone.

his kisses were a searing brand against your lips, full of affection and devotion. mattheo murmured whispers of praise as he dragged his dagger down your body, grazing your nipples ever so slightly. you tensed at the sensation, but never once faltered in your trust that mattheo wouldn’t harm you. dark eyes flickered with delight as you smiled up at him, so serene and peaceful even though you were entirely at his mercy.

mattheo settled between your thighs, his eager lips sucking up the blood dripping from the scars. “so fucking perfect,” he praised. “you look so pretty wearing my name.”

you moaned as he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses on your thighs, his dark eyes glimmering wickedly as he hooked your legs over his shoulders. his gaze remained on you as he sucked hard on your clit. the sensation felt heavenly, making you arch your back on the mattress. mattheo held your hips down as he french kissed your pussy, the stroke of his tongue massaging your folds in a way that made your head spin.

the lower half of his face was covered in crimson, but he didn’t let the blood deter him from the task at hand. if anything, the mess made him hornier than he already was. mattheo rutted against the bed as he slipped his tongue inside of you, fucking you with his mouth with a steady rhythm. the scars on your thigh welted with blood and stained everything — his nose, his mouth, his jaw was covered with it. the entire thing was so unbelievably fucked up, but he couldn’t help but be so fucking turned on by the depravity of it all.

“matty, oh god,” you panted, tugging at his curls as he brought you closer to your orgasm.

“look at you,” mattheo drawled. “such a fucking mess for me. letting me eat you out with your blood all over my face. you’re just as fucked in the head as I am, aren’t you, baby?”

“yes, yes, oh god, yes.” mattheo flicked his tongue on your clit back and forth, stimulating the bundle of nerve until you keened and arched against his mouth. “oh fuck, baby, i’m coming…”

the pressure on your lower abdomen was too much and you released it all at once, liquid gushing all over the sheets. dark eyes flickered up to your face, drinking in the way you looked as you squirted into his mouth. mattheo thought that you were the perfect picture of sin, eyes rolling back, thighs squeezing him in place, back arching off the bed as you came.

“you’re fucking filthy, baby,” mattheo said with a dark chuckle. “if I knew this was all it took to make you squirt, I would’ve asked to carve you up sooner.”

“i’ve never — i’ve never done that before,” you declared incredulously. “I didn’t even think I could squirt.”

“now that I know that you can, i’m gonna fuck you until you squirt all over my cock.”

mattheo’s mouth glistened with your blood and cum as he held his dagger against your throat. the silver steel kept you in place as mattheo unbuckled his belt, throwing his head back as he pumped his hard cock. you whimpered underneath him, wanting nothing more than to touch and taste and feel him. mattheo tutted, pressing his dagger down until tears of crimson dribbled down your breasts.

“stay still, princess,” mattheo commanded as he continued pumping himself. he chuckled darkly to himself when you released a shaky breath, careful not to cut yourself any further. “what am I saying? you’re not going anywhere, baby.”

MY NEW GIRLFRIEND Y’ALL, STAY BACK

it’s so pretty <3333

FIGURE SKATER READER AU ᯓ★

Figure skater!reader is gentle. She's sweet, kind, and the most loving person you'll ever meet. Her heart is as soft as snow, yet warm like a fire on a winter day. Every move she makes embodies a quiet strength; she's grace in human form. While she might not actively seek attention, she gains it nonetheless, because everyone, even those with the coldest of hearts, are drawn to the sincerity in her eyes and the elegance with which she carries herself.

Huge thanks to @leona-hawthorne for helping me with the moodboard! You never fail to show your talent 🤍 And to @riddleshire for the wonderful idea!! I'm excited for when you write again!

au list

©ur-local-wizard translating, republishing, copying, or claiming my work as yours is not permitted. all my work belongs to me and me only. thank you!

still feel it, i might die

something is off i just feel it

I’M SO READY FOR THIS, a hot man with uniform 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

⊹ ࣪ ˖ MILITARY!MATTHEO

₊⊹ military!mattheo ; the battle-hardened soldier with calloused hands and a voice like gravel, always carrying the scent of gunpowder and pine. his uniform is pressed, his posture straight, but the second he’s through the door, he’s on you—starved, desperate, whispering how fucking beautiful you are between rough kisses. he’s spent months dreaming about this, about you—about the way your soft little body fits beneath his, about how sweet you sound when he fucks you open, stretching you until you’re trembling. you’re his gentle girl, his soft thing, and he swears he’ll never let the world touch you—only him. and when he folds you in half, pressing your knees to your chest as he buries himself deep, murmuring how much he loves you, how much he missed you—you believe him.

₊⊹ works

— coming soon…

₊⊹ navigation ; military!mattheo ; au’s ; m.list

© leona-hawthorne 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost any of my writing.

my girl @nottsangel has a military!theo au as well, so if you like this, definitely check that out!!

something is off i just feel it

imagine mentor mattheo teaching reader auto control, fucking her and telling her she can’t cum until he says so

⊹ ࣪ ˖ mentor!mattheo teaching you self-control

warnings ; 18+ mdni, fem!reader, unprotected p in v, fingering, choking, spanking, biting, praise, slight degradation, power imbalance (?)

₊⊹ navigation ; mentor!mattheo ; au’s ; m.list

“you’ll never survive if you can’t control yourself.”  

his voice is low, dangerous, cutting through the silence of the empty training room. your chest heaves as you stand across from him, sweat slicking your skin, your muscles burning from hours of drills, the scent of sawdust and steel lingering in the air.

“again,” he says, but there’s something else behind it this time. something sharp.  

“that last drill was good enough,” you snap, wiping your face with the back of your hand, your heart still racing—not from exhaustion, but from the way his eyes have been burning into you all day. dark, unrelenting.  

he pushes off the wall, moving closer, his boots soundless against the floor. “no. you’re impatient,” he murmurs, circling you slowly, his breath warm against your neck as he brushes past. “reckless. always wanting to skip to the end. to take what you want without waiting for it.”  

you swallow hard, your pulse thrumming in your throat. “maybe i just don’t see the point in waiting.”  

his fingers ghost over your wrist, tugging you toward the door without another word.  

your room is dark, the digital windows set to an image of the city streets. mattheo’s hand grips your jaw the second the door shuts, his thumb pressing just hard enough to make your breath hitch. his eyes—dark, predatory—roam down your body, lingering on the flush creeping up your chest.

“strip,” he orders, voice a low, dangerous drawl.  

you hesitate, stubborn as ever, and his brow arches.  

“don’t make me ask twice.” his tone is calm, almost amused, which somehow makes it worse. “you’re not in charge here. i am.”  

your fingers tremble as you pull your shirt over your head, stripping down until you’re bare under his gaze. mattheo steps closer, his fingers hooking under your chin, tilting your head up to meet his eyes.  

“that’s better,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip. “always so fucking defiant… but look at you now. doing exactly what i say.”  

he backs you onto the bed with slow, deliberate steps, his grip never loosening. you expect him to kiss you, but instead, he leans in close, his breath hot against your ear.  

“you’ve got no patience,” he says softly, fingers trailing down your thigh. “no self-control. lucky for you, i’ve got plenty for both of us.”  

his hand snaps between your legs, slapping your inner thigh, and you gasp, your body jerking.  

“hold still,” mattheo growls, his hand coming down again, harder this time, leaving a sting that makes heat bloom low in your belly. “you don’t move until i say.”  

his fingers slide between your folds, gathering your wetness before pressing two fingers inside you. his thumb circles your clit in slow, lazy motions, deliberately not enough, building a tension that has you squirming beneath him.  

“already so fucking desperate,” he taunts, curling his fingers in a way that makes your back arch. “look at you. soaking my hand like a good little tribute.”  

your cheeks burn at his words, but the embarrassment only makes you wetter.  

“please,” you gasp, your hips rocking against his hand.  

“please, what?” he pulls his fingers out, holding them up to your lips. “taste yourself. then maybe i’ll give you what you’re begging for.”  

your tongue flicks out hesitantly, and he groans, his thumb pressing against your chin as he watches you.  

“fuck, you’re filthy,” he mutters, slipping his fingers back into your mouth. “and you’ll do anything i tell you, won’t you?”  

you nod, too far gone to argue, your tongue swirling around his fingers as he presses his knee between your thighs, keeping you spread for him.  

“such a quick learner,” mattheo praises, withdrawing his hand to grip your waist, flipping you onto your stomach in one swift motion. “hands on the headboard.”  

you obey, your breath catching as he presses his cock against you, the blunt head dragging through your wetness. fuck, when did he even take his pants off?

“you want it?” he asks, voice thick with condescension, teasing you with shallow thrusts. “say it. tell me who you belong to.”  

“you,” you gasp, your fingers curling around the headboard as you push back against him. “i belong to you.”  

“damn right you do,” he growls, slamming into you with one brutal thrust that knocks the air from your lungs.  

his hand snakes around to wrap lightly around your throat, not squeezing—just enough to remind you who’s in control. his other hand cracks down on your ass, hard enough to make you yelp.  

“quiet,” mattheo snarls. “you don’t want the boy tribute hearing you from his room, do you? or should i let him see how fucking pretty you look when you’re being ruined?”  

your walls clench around him at his words, and he laughs, dark and breathless.  

“oh, you like that,” he says, his grip tightening around your throat, his hips snapping harder, faster. “filthy little thing. so eager to be fucked by your mentor.”  

the tension coils tight in your core, your body trembling as you teeter on the edge.  

“don’t you dare cum yet,” mattheo warns, his voice a low snarl. “not until i say.”  

“i can’t,” you sob, your head dropping back onto his shoulder. “please, i can’t—”  

“yes, you can.” his teeth sink into your neck, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark. “you’ll wait. and if you don’t, i’ll pull out and make you finish yourself while i watch.”  

the threat makes your thighs shake, your breath hitching as you claw at the headboard, holding on for dear life. mattheo’s hand slips between your legs, his fingers rubbing your clit in quick, rough circles.  

“cum for me,” he finally growls, his voice thick with need. “now.”  

your orgasm rips through you, white-hot and all-consuming, your body clenching around him as you scream his name. mattheo’s thrusts grow erratic, his breath ragged as he follows, spilling inside you with a low, guttural curse.  

he stays buried inside you, his forehead pressed to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. for a moment, there’s only the sound of your ragged breathing, the weight of him holding you down.  

“good girl,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. “took it so well. didn’t even break.”  

© leona-hawthorne 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost any of my writing.

⋆˙⟡♡ VENUS IN LEO

venus in leo is proud and boastful, enjoying all the attention they easily attract. they feed on validation and adoration, and won’t hesitate to make it known. this placement will find a way to make themselves the center of your universe, and you will definitely feel it, in more ways than one.

brother’s bsf!lorenzo berkshire x nott!reader

warnings: 18+ mdni, voyeurism, masturbation (m), the tiniest bit of degradation, cursing

nav // event / more

you had no idea what prompted you to go to your brother’s dorm this late at night. it’s not like you really needed anything, you didn’t have any nightmares, plus, you knew he’d very likely spend the night at some girl’s room. still, something was calling for you, and you found yourself at his door at the ass crack of night. surprisingly, it was cracked open, which was quite a surprise – everyone should’ve already been asleep, no? curiosity won over everything, and you peeped inside, trying your best not to make any sound just in case.

what you saw made your heart leap straight into your throat, and you barely held back from choking on nothing but air.

lorenzo was laid out on his bed, legs slightly spread, completely naked in the dim light of a lamp on his bedside table. one of his hands was moving over his hard, dripping cock colored deep pink, and the other one was massaging his balls. his cheeks were flushed, that much you could see in the dusk, his hair stuck to his damp forehead, and you swore you could distinguish freshly wet streaks of white on his stomach. so it wasn’t the first–

you shook your head, trying to will away the image, but it was damn near impossible when the object of said image was right in front of you, deeply indulged in the very thing you were imagining. your eyes were glued to lorenzo’s hand tightly wrapped around his cock, moving up and down with wet, squelching sounds. just how often had you dreamt of seeing exactly this, of hearing his small sighs and quiet moans as he pleasured himself… you lost count a long long time ago.

heat quickly burned low in your stomach, and you silently cursed at yourself for ending up in such an awkward position – you were still behind the door, in the corridor, and literally anyone could walk by. the last thing you needed was a random slytherin sleaze seeing you touch yourself out in the open. of course, he’d get his jaw broken by theo afterwards, but still, it was an embarrassing thought. nevertheless, your panties were rapidly getting soaked, and you had to squeeze your thighs to try and hold back waves of intense arousal.

unbeknownst to you, enzo was fully aware of your presence. he caught the sight of you peering through the crack in the door a while ago, but didn’t say anything yet. something about the fact that you were watching him while he jerked off – to the thought of you, of course – made the whole experience even more intense, more thrilling. his hand picked up the pace on his cock as he imagined you biting your lip, your pretty eyes fixed on him, your pussy starting to leak into your tiny pajama shorts that he always ogled whenever he was lucky enough to see…

"fuck," he groaned, arching off the bed and squeezing his balls in an attempt to stop the orgasm that threatened to crash into him sooner than he’d like. that single hoarse word from him was entirely too sexy, and you found yourself imagining how his voice would sound with your name on his lips… your cheeks were aflame, but you were too mesmerized by the sight of lorenzo to care.

he was getting close, he knew it, but he didn’t want to cum like that. not when an opportunity to have you presented itself on a silver platter – you were already undoubtedly turned on, he just had a very reliable hunch, and theo was nowhere in sight. he stopped suddenly, and your eyes widened, not really getting why he did that. but when his head turned, and his gaze landed on your face, illuminated by a faint stream of light coming through the crack, your heart dropped to your stomach. but the heat you felt burning down there only grew, spreading all over your body at the realization of being caught red-handed. even though technically, you were the one who caught him first.

"sweetie," lorenzo murmured, a smirk spreading on his face as his thumb lazily moved over the swollen tip of his cock, spreading shiny precum all over. "i can see your pretty face there, you little slut. come inside."

you swallowed thickly, the ‘slut’ going straight into the gutter, making your pussy clench desperately around nothing. you hesitantly opened the door and stepped inside, now getting a full view of lorenzo’s body. it was unfair how handsome he was, slick with sweat and streaks of cum drying on his stomach from the apparent previous orgasm you weren’t a witness off… he chuckled, watching your flustered but curious expression with a smirk firmly planted on his lips.

"come on, babe, don’t be shy. we just have to have some fun now, no? i won’t tell nott, i promise… if you’ll be a good girl, of course."

⋆˙⟡♡ VENUS IN TAURUS

venus in taurus enjoys indulging in extravagances and luxury. this placement values loyalty and a partner who’s equally as interested in pursuing pleasure. in bed, a taurus venus commits and keeps going until they reach a point of personal satisfaction.

cult leader!theo nott x reader

warnings: 18+ mdni, intox kink, dubcon, unprotected p in v, choking, breath play, praise

nav // event / more

it’s a true wonder how you ended up in teacher theodore’s room so quickly after joining the commune. you haven’t been here for long, just a couple of weeks, and you’re already here, straddling his lap; his hand rests lazily on your hip, rubbing circles into your skin – his warmth seeps through the fabric of your thin white robe, making your lower body tingle with pleasure. your eyes are fixed on his beautiful face, though it’s hard for them to stay all the way open – the wine he’s feeding you makes your head spin more and more with each sip you obediently take.

"you’re enjoying that?" he asks, his voice smooth and low, like a big cat’s purr. you nod as you swallow another little portion – the wine is really good, tart and sweet, no doubt expensive, as is the silver goblet theodore’s holding up at your lips. he hums in approval of your answer, nudging your lips with the cold metallic edge once again.

you take a sip again, a bigger one this time, and cough – the alcohol is pretty strong, too, tickling your throat from the inside. theodore smirks, but you barely see it – your vision is already blurry, his features growing less and less defined. you fail to notice the way his hand creeps down to your thigh, rolling up the hem of your robe. then, you’re suddenly aware of your naked state when his fingers slide through your folds, wet and welcoming. theodore raises an eyebrow, taking in the fact that you’re not wearing any underwear.

"were you expecting this?"

your cheeks are flushed from embarrassment, or it’s just the effect of this amazing wine – you’re not sure anymore.

"i’m sorry," you mumble, slurring the words out; your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, every syllable taking too much effort to get out. and yet, the haze of your mind tells you there’s nothing to be embarrassed about – the teacher is enjoying this, so naturally, his pleasure is yours too.

"don’t be," theodore murmurs, placing the goblet on the table next to the couch you’re seated on. his gaze, calm yet unmistakably heated, roams over your body, lingering on your nipples, hard underneath the fabric. "you’re very pretty like that."

he lifts up your hips just a little, to slide off his pants, and you can’t help looking down – he isn’t wearing any underwear too, which only means that he wanted to have you from the very beginning. his cock is hard, throbbing against your heat as he grabs it at the base, rubbing the tip against your aching clit. a moan erupts from your throat, a bit louder than the situation calls for, but the alcohol does all sorts of things to your self-control; more specifically, completely demolishes the last remnants of it.

theodore drags the tip of his cock to your entrance, spreading it open. the hand on your hip tightens just a little as he pushes you down onto him, his hips lifting up to fill you to the very brim. your lips part as another moan escapes them, your hands fumbling, struggling to keep your body upright against theodore’s shoulders. he watches intently as your eyes droop with pleasure and increasing intoxication, the wine doing wonders to relax your muscles and heighten the state of your arousal. he starts thrusting into you, each movement slow and deep, and his hand maps out the curves of your body as it travels up, up, up…

your bottom lip trembles as his fingers wrap around your throat, pressing at your pulse point – your hearts beats quickly, wildly, just for him. he holds you up by your neck, and you can feel your body going limp in his grip, which only makes the pressure on your throat stronger. your mind is perfectly clouded with the lack of air and the alcohol running through your veins, and your moans grow breathier, hoarser. you give up trying to keep your eyes on theodore, your eyelids closing, the veil of darkness falling around you. the only sense still intact is your hearing, but it gets muffled more and more each time theodore’s cock plunges deeper, hitting your cervix with firm, precise thrusts.

"that’s it, darling, that’s it." his voice is a low hum, soft like silk in the heated atmosphere of the room; his thumb gently strokes the side of your throat, pressing in from time to time, as if to remind who’s in control. your nails dig into his shirt, and if you were fully conscious, you’d be embarrassed for rumpling his perfectly smooth clothes – yet right now, you can’t find it in yourself to care. he feels too good, too out of this world moving inside of you, and it’s not long before you let go. the orgasm crashes in waves, carrying you up to the very heavens, and you feel that if you died at this very moment, you’d die the happiest you’ve ever been.

"such a good girl," theodore murmurs as he slows down, his hips stilling after he feels your body growing even heavier. he lets go of your throat, and you almost whine from the disappointment of losing this delicious pressure. oxygen rushes rapidly back into your brain, only making you dizzier, so you barely register theodore’s hands tugging you down from his lap, onto the floor in front of him.

"you’re gonna make me feel good now, won’t you, darling?" he murmurs, dragging the warm, slick tip of his cock along you lips. you mindlessly nod, your eyes still half-lidded with wine and pleasure – of course, you will. and you quickly realize that you always will.