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omgeto · 8 months

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☆ WHEN YOU HAVE SEX WITH YOUR PROFESSOR — NANAMI, TOJI, GETO, GOJO.

summary: you have sex with your professor. for many different reasons.

wc: 4.2k (each of these were meant to be 500 words long so idk what happened)

cw: smutty smut afab!reader who's in university, mutual masturbation, spanking, semi public sex, toji is not a professor but a gym coach who rails you in a supply closet, but theres a lot of sex on a lot of desks so mdni.

an: theres actually a smidge of plot in this just a tiny bit if you do a deep squint, but the smut id personally say is my best yet. so give it a chance people, but come for the smut stay for the dialogue. hope you enjoy! not proofread ignore mistakes pls

☆ NANAMI

nanami kento, was the strictest teacher you have ever had. you couldn’t get away with your usual tricks that you did with some of your other professors — strutting past their office during office hours in your skimpiest clothes to get a better grade. it was as if nanami was immune to all your devices.

but with a big exam coming up, you knew you had to make something happen since studying was not your forte. so you were prepared to do anything to get that A.

“come in," his deep voice calls from inside.

as you enter his office, you are met with the sight of your professor, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, reviewing a stack of papers. he glances up at you briefly before returning his attention to his work.

"what can I help you with?" he ask, his tone professional.

“i wanted to see if we could talk about the exam you set for us tomorrow,” you start to say, his eyes still focused on his papers, not sparing you a glance. “i was thinking we could figure out a way for me to get extra credit… sir.”

you had his attention now. technically you’ve always had his attention — yes nanami was different to all the other professors you’ve ever had but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t a man at the end of the day.

he always noticed the way you’d sit in his classroom, your pouty mouth always gnawing at your pencil as you never had a clue what was going on. nanami always had to hide his dick feeling tight in his trousers whenever you walk into his classroom. little did you know that you actually would’ve failed his class a long time ago, but because he just couldn’t let go of the sight of how your pretty tits bounce everytime you raise your hand, he always made you pass.

“well what are you willing to do for that extra credit?” he says, his tone slightly amused.

“whatever you want” you respond a bit too eagerly, you were coming onto him hard. but it was working, you could already see the crack in his usual stoic facade. “c’mon professor nanami, i need to pass this class,” you practically beg.

“oh yeah, you definitely need to pass this exam, you’re one more failed exam to flunking my whole class,” he affirms — lying through his teeth. “so i think you should come sit up here, and show me what you’re willing to do huh.”

suddenly, you start to feel nervous. usually you’d have control of the situation, you’d flaunt your ass, fuck your teacher and get an A, easily. but this time, you could see in nanami’s eyes that from when you entered his office — that he was running the show.

you saunter over his desk, and he pushes his seat back allowing you to have room to perch on his desk in front of him. “take off your shirt,” he commands, and you’re quick to fling off your top — that was barely covering anything anyways, “wow no bra, why am i not surprised.” he stares at your hardened nipples smirking as he continues to say, “you know i see your nipples peeking at me through your shit all the time in class.”

“really?” you question coyly.

“you don’t think i see how you practically fuck yourself in your seat when i’m doing a reading,” he continues, his arms folding as if he was telling you off, “a bit disrespectful, right?”

“no i-it’s just i really like the sound of your voice,” you stammer, embarrassed at him calling you out. you couldn’t deny that your professor was hot, everybody thought so and you hated school the only thing that got you through your classes was your day dreams of him fucking you.

“oh really, well i wanna see you get off to it for real this time.”

“wha—”

“touch yourself,” he demands with a grin, “fuck yourself on your fingers, put on a show for me,” he loosens his tie, and unbuttons his cuffs, ready to watch you perform for him, “and if you do well, then we could talk about your extra credit.”

you take off your pants, your hands moving directly to your throbbing pussy — since of course you had no panties on. you press your thumb down on your clit as your fingers work their way into your cunt. you were already soaked, just from hearing your professor speak to you, so it was easy to slide your digits in and out of you.

nanami’s grin grows wider, loving the way your work your pussy, “you not gonna play with your tits?” and you take his hint, your other hand sliding up to cup one of your boobs, your fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples. “good girl,” he praises.

you add another finger inside of you, writhing down hard on his desk against your digits. you quicken your pace, rubbing your thumb vigorously against your clit. his gaze on you served as an encouragement, your ultimate goal was shifted, at this point you didn’t care whether he passed or failed you — you just wanted to put on a good show for him.

“you gonna cum for me?” he taunts, the sound of your pussy squelching around your fingers as you drive them in is like music to his ears. you barely even noticed him fisting his dick, stroking it hard — matching the pace of your fingers hammers your cunt. “you gonna make a big mess for me all over my desk?”

“professor i-” you whine, wanting more than just your own fingers inside of you, “please i need—”

“professor? what was it that you called me earlier?” he teases, “remind me of that and then maybe i’ll give you what you’re begging for.”

“s-sir please,” you sputter, barely being able to string a sentence together. you could feel you were about to cum hard. your fingers were still drilling into your pussy, and your hands were still suctioned on your tit and nanami's dick was taunting you. “i need you.”

“you need me hmm?” he mocks, his eyebrow tilting as he stares at your fucked out face.

“yeah p-please i need your dick,” you beg, your pussy was gushing all over your fingers, as your strokes got sloppier, “i need you i-in me.”

“oh really?” he asks with a smirk, a slight chuckle as you nod eagerly, “well too bad.”

“wha—”

“you really thought i’d put my dick in a slutty student that’s not even smart enough to even pass my class?” he lectures, he tuts his teeth, shaking his head, “now finish off for me and leave office hours end in a few minutes.”

“f-fuck,” you moan out, you could barely even process his words, too busy focused on cumming all over your fingers to think about how he just denied you of what you really wanted, your hand falls off your tit, your head jerking back as your release over his desk. he’s quick to cum too, biting down on his fist to surpress the loud moan threatening to come out

“you really made a mess for me huh,” he observes, swiping his fingers across the pool of cum you left on his desk and bringing it into his mouth, “sweet.” you were at a loss for words, you were just coached through one of the best orgasms you ever had from your professor — and he didn’t even touch you — yet you still don’t know whether he’s gonna pass you or not.

“so about that exam…?” you voice trails, as you put back on your shirt, hopping of his desk.

“i’ll think about it, sit the exam first and i’ll see what i can do,” his voice turns serious, and he nods his head in the direction for you to leave indicating for you to get up out of his office. but just before you're about to leave the room he calls out to you, “oi.”

“thanks for the live show.”

☆ TOJI

“why do we always have to fuck in such awkward spaces,” you complain nearly tripping on a basketball as toji holds you upright.

“you know you love it baby,” he smirks, pressing a kiss to your cheek, thrusting up into you further.

you were in the gym supply closet, having your weekly sex with your university's gym teacher. you don’t even know how your little routine came about but once he started to hammer into you every friday after basketball practice, you’ve never missed a meet up.

“don’t call me that,” you groan out at the use of his pet name.

“why not?” he grumbles, cupping your tits with his hands as he stands behind you, “aren’t you students s’pposed to listen to your teachers and all that.”

you take a sharp inhale as his large hands smother your boobs, his thick things toy with your nipples, “but y-you aren’t a real teacher, in case you forgot.”

“am too,” he mutters like a child.

“a-are not,” you spit back just as childishly.

“am, too,” he persists, thrusting into you hard. pushing you down by your nape, forcing your hands to grip onto some random gym apparatus. he uses his foot to spread your legs apart wider so he can fit right behind you. fucking into you with something to prove.

“you teach gym to a bunch of brain dead j-jocks, wouldn’t say that classifies as being an actual professor toji.” you continue riling him up, biting your lip as his hammers into you harder. “you’re more like a glorified personal trainer than a teacher.”

he drives into you deeper, “oh and your just an uppity bitch, who still ended up fucking this ‘personal teacher,’ in a gym closet,” his mouth moves close to your ear, as he whispers, “so what does that say about you baby?” he presses a kiss underneath your ear lobe, before lightly sucking on it.

his words go straight to your core, him calling you an ‘uppity bitch’ had the exact effect he intended them to have — you throwing your ass on his dick, fucking him back as hard as he was fucking you.

he sends a smack to your ass, biting his lip as it ripples at the contact of his palm. his slaps were merciless, having you scream out every time he hits your cheek. “how’s this for a glorified personal trainer huh?” he coos in your ear, feeling dignified as you rut against him more feigning for more of his dick in your throbbing pussy.

“ah you f-fill me up s-so so good,” you mewl out, as his dick pumps in and out of you stuffing you with every thrust. his mouth latches onto the nape of your neck, sucking on it as he ploughs into you deeper, hitting your spot with pinpoint accuracy.

“i know i do baby, i always stuff you good don’t i?” he groans out, your pussy was a vice grip on his dick, had him suppressing his moans whenever you clenched around him, “don’t know why you fuck around with these lame ass boys in your classes, they can’t fuck you like i do. do they?”

“well…” you voice trails in a teasing tone.

“dont f-fucking play with me,” he sputters, feeling himself about to bust all inside of you, “i’m the only one you fucking right,” when he doesn’t hear an immediate answer, he shoves himself into you his hips pushing right against your ass, “right?”

“y-yes fuck, right,” you sigh rolling your eyes at his act of possessiveness — ignoring how you pussy got even wetter at his words. “you’re the b-best i ever had, toji.”

“you’re damn right i am,” he scoffs out giving your ass one final slap as he says, “you going finish all over my dick, c’mon baby coat my dick with your sweet sweet,” and you do just that. you cum with a cry, releasing all over toji, as he shoots into you a loud groan leaving his mouth.

“aww i forgot how loud you get for me,” you tease him as he pulls out of you, turning to look at him with a grin, which he huffs out, “anyways what did i tell you about cumming in me, i'm not one of those cheerleaders you run around with,” you fuss swatting at his chest.

“yeah you aren’t one of the cheerleaders i run around with,” he repeats, “hence why i can cum in you, you know you’re my favourite fuck out of all my students”

“ugh you’re so gross.”

“you say that with my cum running down your legs,” he says, giving you a pointed look, his eyes staring down at your thighs, “i do have another hour till my next class i gotta teach, so i could clean it up for you?” he offers, already going down to his knees, knowing that was a suggestion you would not deny.

“if you insist.”

he starts to suck against your thighs as you lean against the wall, sandwiched between a goal post and a hockey stick, but just before his lips latch onto your pussy, he looks up to you with a pout, “do you really think gym coaches aren’t teachers?”

“oh shut up toji,” you mutter, pushing his head to your cunt.

☆ GETO

you storm into your professors office, pissed off. professor geto was the worst teacher you’ve ever had. he was cocky, arrogant and most of the time he didn’t have a clue what he was teaching.

“ah miss know it all,” he muses, his personal nickname he created for you during his first semester of being your professor, “to what do i owe the pleasure this time.” you were no stranger to geto’s office, you were practically the only student that actually used his office hours. geto didn’t mind it though. the unplanned visits, your impoliteness — he was amused by it.

“could you explain why you gave me a B, on my last paper?” you interrogate, waving said essay in his face furiously, “when we both know that this is easily worth an A.”

“i just think you could do better,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “i just think you haven’t harnessed your true potential, that’s all.” geto knew you were smart, the smartest person he’s ever taught. he just needed to get you in his office. and he knew a below average grade on an essay, that didn’t even matter, was the way to do that.

“and what do you know about potential?” you mutter, more to yourself than anything, “i don’t even know how you managed to get this job.”

he rolls his eyes at your comments, “do you really want this A?”

"of course i want the stupid A," you reply, your tone determined. "i've put in the effort, and i've met all the requirements for this paper. there's no reason for you to give me a B except for your own personal bias against me."

“personal bias? some may argue that you’re actually my favourite?” geto leans back in his chair, a sly grin on his face. "but alright, then. here's the deal," he says, folding his arms. "if you can convince me right now, in this very moment, that you deserve an A for this paper, i'll change your grade. but you'll have to persuade me.”

“persuade you?” you retort, “what you want me to do a powerpoint presentation or something…?”

he chuckles, shaking his head at your naivety, for someone so smart you somehow lack social awareness, “no i wanna see if you taste as good as you look.”

“you mean…” your voice trails, finally catching on to what he was getting at.

“come lay down on my desk,” he says casually as if this was a usual ordeal between the two of you. he could see you hesitating, “you do want that A right?”

your feet were stuck in the ground, you never wanted to be one of those girls — ones that had to fuck a teacher just to get through university. but, regardless of your below A grade, you were more curious about what it would actually be like. especially with a professor that looked like geto.

you lay down on his desk, nervous, you could feel his breath on your stomach as he slides down your jeans. he was kneeling down, his face at the same level as your pussy. he toys with your underwear, pulling at it and snapping it against your skin, giving you a smile of approval in your choice of panties. but just before he pulls them off you he asks, “you sure you want to do it smarty? you can run back to your dorm if you want?”

“anything to get the A,” you grit out, basically lying, since getting your grade improved was the last thing on your mind as he pulls off your underwear.

he takes his hair — that was usually tied up in bun — down, releasing his long hair, “just in case you need something to pull on,” he smirks.

his fingers slide across your wet slit, spreading your lips. he presses a kiss on your clit, slightly nibbling on it before working his mouth down to your pussy. you gasp at the contact as he latches his mouth on you, his tongue darting into your cunt at a quick pace.

geto hums in satisfaction as you hands immediately go to grab his hair, pulling at it as his tongue gives you long strokes, lapping up all the juices already spilling out of you. “i didn’t think my star student would be this needy, if only the class could see you now.” he taunts lifting his head up, “i guess they wouldn’t be surprised though, your as hungry for my tongue as you are to answer questions in class,” he finishes with a chuckle pressing a kiss to your thigh.

but you’re quick to silence him, clenching your thighs against his head, “s-shut up,” you whine, thrusting your hips up in his face to meet his tongue. your head was swirling, you could barely remember how you ended up on your professors desk in the first place. but all you were focused on was clawing your fingers through his scalp as he slurps and sucks on your pussy.

“oh m-my god,” you murmur, soaking his face. he could tell by the way you pushing his face deeper into your cunt, his nose forced into your arousal that you were close.

“ready to let me taste you” he asks, his voice sending vibrations over your pussy, “wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

“fuck d-didn’t think it’ll be this g-good,” you whine out. he brings his thumb to you clit rubbing it as fast as he could taking you over the edge. you moan out, practically squealing, as you squirt all over his face. he smirks, trying to get as much as it as he can.

“i didn’t know my star student could squirt,” he teases, his mouth glistening with evidence of you, “or should i call you my star squirter.”

“haha, very funny…” you deadpan, becoming slightly shy at seeing him lick his lips wiping the last remains of you off of him.

“i guess my theory was right,” he concludes.

“what theory?” you ask, puzzled, forgetting the whole reason you let him eat you out in the first place.

“you do taste as good as you look,” he comments with a pleased grin, already reminiscing about you squirting all over his face.

“so about my A?” you ask pulling up your jeans, and collecting your things.

“yeah i’ll expect your rewrite on my desk by friday,” he shrugs, going back to his nonchalant persona.

“rewrite? did you not promise me an A if i can ‘persuade you,’ at how badly i want it?” you question, going back to your original state of being pissed off, “did i not persuade you mr ‘you do taste as good as you look.’ this is so unfair”

“ask me if i care about fairness?” he smirks, a laugh leaving his lips as he watches you storm out of his office, “hey! you left your underwear,” he calls out behind you, his laugh growing as you say nothing, putting up your middle finger at him and slamming his door shut.

☆ GOJO

“do you want to lose your job?” you chastise, “shut the fuck up.”

“but i can’t help it,” he purrs, nuzzling into your neck to suppress his non stop moans and whines that he was doing as he pushed his dick in you, “your pussy’s just too good.”

you were leaning against the desk of your professor gojo’s lecture hall, your legs wrapped around his bag as he hoisted you up, grinding his body against yours as his dick drives in your pussy.

it was after hours, and gojo forgot to lock his classroom doors. as soon as your peers left the room he was quick to put his lips on yours, throwing all the stationary on his desk on the floor in the most dramatic fashion ever.

you don’t know how you got entangled in a relationship with your teacher. since you didn’t actually benefit from it, and he was needier and clingier than an actual student your age. but the mind blowing orgasms he gave you every now and again made you forget all of his ‘bad qualities.’

“c’mon don’t tell me it’s not making you feel wetter,” he murmurs in between kisses, “the idea of someone walking in on me fucking your pretty little pussy.” you ignore him, your arms tightening around his neck as you bounce on his dick. “tell me that doesn’t make you hot,” he eases his dick out of you slightly, drawing both of your attention to his member already covered in your juices. his eyebrows raise when you look back at him as if he’s just proved his point.

“whatever, i guess the idea of us getting caught isn’t that bad,” you lie, knowing it was causing you to get better, “but if we do get caught then it's your ass gojo.”

“aww you’re so thoughtful,” he coos, “you really care about me and my job, will you miss me if i get fired?”

“well i’ll miss my on campus dick,” you mutter, scratching at his back, as he thrusts into you deeper, “but i’ll be able to replace you quickly i guess.”

“oh how you wound me,” he mocks, pulling you into a deep kiss, desperate to taste you. that was gojo’s favourite thing to do to you, of course your pussy was great, but your lips were his favourite thing. sometimes he’d even drag you out of the hallway into his office —not a care in the world if anyone was around— and pull you into his lap just shove his tongue into your mouth and fondle your tits.

for a lousy professor, gojo sure knew your body well. he knew every spot to hit, every place to kiss, every stroke to make and you loved it. the scratches you were giving him on his back, encouraging him to go deeper, stuffing you to the brim. “f-fuckk you take me so so well,” he moans in your ear, whining and grunting as you tighten your hold around him.

“i’m close,” he mutters, his pace slowing. he lowers you down so your back is laying on the desk and he swoops his mouth down to your tits. enveloping your left breast with his mouth, greedily suckling at it.

“wow already?” you taunt, “you’ve really lost your touch professor, when i was an undergrad we could go at it for days.” his mouth pauses, as he looks up at you with a pointed look that reads as ‘girl really? as if you aren’t close.’ he wasn’t wrong, from his deep long strokes in your pussy, and his tongue twisting on your nipples, you were ready to cum all over him.

“gojo shit,” you curse, your hand coming down to your clit, flicking at it fast to speed up your orgasm. but gojo slaps your hand away, almost offended that you would try to cum off of something other than his hands and mouth. he bites down on your nipple, punishingly and that sends you overboard. you let out a shriek as you cum all over his dick, your hand quickly coming over your mouth to suppress your whines.

“what happened to being quiet huh?” he mocks your warning from earlier, “don’t want to get caught, do we now?” but he’s quick to let out a deep moan, as he releases into you, spraying your walls with all your cum. he slumps over you, exhausted, and wanting to just feel you — gojo was always needy after sex.

after you both come down from your highs and clean up — thankful that nobody stumbled across you. gojo pulls you into his lap, dabbing kisses all over your neck, “so when you gonna let me take you out, outside the classroom?”

“y’know that’s not allowed right?” you remind him, looking at your professor as if he’s lost his mind, “what we’re doing now isn’t allowed, but out in public is a no go, gojo.”

“not allowed?” he retorts, as if it’s news to him, “i thought it was just heavily frowned upon?!”

an: sooo what did you think? which one was your favourite. me personal lame gym coach toji really did it for me. tagging my girl @jabamin mainly just for nanami. but yes ALSO IDK WHY I MADE THE READER DUMB IN THE NANAMI FIC, but I juxtaposed it by making you super smart in the geto fic so it balances it out. anyways lmk what you thought, thanks for reading!! DONT USE MY DIVIDERS

#stampedwithanE★#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #toji x reader #toji smut #nanami x reader #nanami smut #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk fic #geto suguru x reader #nanami kento x reader

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shotoh · 11 months

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— in which they slowly find themselves enamored by the natural charms of their interviewer

feat. itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, itoshi sae

cw + tw. nothing much just fluff, fem!reader, interviewer/reporter!reader, aged-up!characters, characters are professional athletes and continue playing in their teams from the neo egoist league (except sae)

notes. first time posting blue lock so apologies if anyone’s ooc, either way i might make a follow-up of this (that might be more uh ya know) and/or add characters

ITOSHI RIN

the sound that follows the harsh slam of his locker is a frustrating sigh that has been simmering in rin’s chest since the end of today’s match. the match in which he had lost—and at the hands of isagi’s team which makes the defeat all the more bitter and disgusting on his tongue. it didn’t help that during the game, he was butting heads with his supposed teammate, shidou. once the coach had decided to sub the eccentric player in, their styles began mixing like oil and water. as a result, their win was swooped up from under them.

pxg has been called to host a post-sport interview to review the match with reporters, but rin couldn’t care less to participate. instead, he’s the very last person to leave the locker rooms. his duffle bag is slung over his shoulder, steps ambling down the hallway.

whether he wins or loses, rin never bothers to attend these post-game interviews. he doesn’t need to sit there and have brash reporters shoot the same questions at him, expecting him to “thank his coach and teammates,” “praise his opponents for a great game today,” and say he’ll “continue to work hard to win next time.” gross. he’d rather be caught dead than have any of those words leave his mouth.

as rin navigates through the hallways of the stadium, he’s hoping to be done with the day and think over the turn of events on his own. but when he rounds the corner, he crosses eyes with someone so obviously lost in the facility—a mistake which punishes him as you immediately approach him with doe, bewildered eyes.

“sorry, i don’t mean to bother you, but i was wondering where the conference for pxg was being held,” you ask. a pad of notes are cradled in your arms, pen clipped to the breast pocket of your blazer. it’s clear you’re another reporter.

before he can point you in the right direction to get you out of his hair, you squint. you’re taking a long, hard look at him until your face suddenly glows. “wait, you’re itoshi rin, the striker for pxg!” you practically blurt. with the volume of your voice, rin’s instincts take hold, and he’s pulling you away from the open space of the hallway.

“quiet. you want everyone to hear?” rin chastises.

“whoops. i got a little excited! i-i’ve been wanting to interview pxg’s top player and well…” you could say the opportunity presented itself, but rin makes it clear he’s not interested.

“if you’re here just to hear me mope over my loss, then go home,” the striker affirms to what he thinks will be the last of this exchange until you tug on the sleeve of his jersey before he starts walking away. turning his head back to glance at you, his brow quirks.

“no, of course not! i thought it was incredible how you were able to keep control of the ball from your opponents and even score the first two points of the game all by yourself!” you exclaim, face lifting as it’s teeming with admiration. surprisingly, he can’t help but be a bit amused by the determined expression etched over the perplexed look that was originally on your features.

you swipe your pen hanging off your pocket, prompting it open with a click of your thumb. “and i’m sure a lot of your fans would love to hear from you!”

the athlete cocks his head. “you’re acting like a fan yourself, miss reporter.”

you blink in surprise. the enthusiasm in your words tones down, but you fail to mask it completely. “what? no, i’m just here to get the exclusive on the best athletes of our country!” if your plan is to butter him up to get a word out of him, it may almost work. you send him another fawning look as if to say “can you blame me though?” and that stirs a low chuckle from his throat.

his face lowers until it’s slightly more leveled with your own, and from this angle, you’re amazed to find you can distinguish every distinct eyelash on his pretty face. and you’re even more enamored by the intense color of his teal eyes. at the proximity, however, your face bathes in the heat of the blood rushing to your cheeks. thankfully, the striker breaks eye contact in favor of taking the notepad from your arms, along with your pen which he uses to scribble something down.

“tell you what,” he says as he continues writing, “come to the next pxg match and i’ll give you an exclusive interview, right after i score at least four goals and decimate the other team.”

his declaration leaves you in awe, and your fascination persists when he hands your pen and pad back for you to see a ten digit number, followed by call my manager written next to it.

NAGI SEISHIRO

back when he was in school, nagi was never great at first impressions. and apparently that’s still the case even later on in his career as a professional striker.

he doesn’t even notice you enter the room as he’s preoccupied with tapping the controls for the first person shooter on his phone. as such, he’s woefully unprepared to hear the reluctant, but soft voice that vies for his attention.

“um, excuse me. if you don’t mind, i’d like to get started with the interview.”

taking a slow glimpse above his screen, he sees the refreshing sight of you—his interviewer—sitting across from him in your neat attire and a clipboard on your lap. surprised by the modest smile that greets him, he automatically straightens up and casts his phone to the side.

it’s a big contrast to what he was expecting. usually, scruffy men who claim they’re adept and knowledgeable in the sport would be shoving their mics in his face. when in reality those people are just washed up high school coaches or analysts who act all high and mighty by asking a bunch of nonsense questions. saying this and that about how they would have done it differently had they been in the game instead of him. regardless, they’re such a pain and nagi would rather be napping in his cloud mattress than go through another talk session with those wannabes. however, his encounter with you just might break this boring streak.

he rubs the back of his head sheepishly, playing off the crass first impression. “right. start whenever you want.”

once he gives you the go ahead, you flip through a few pages to your questions.

as time goes on, the sentiment nagi initially held about how the interview might have been a pain and a waste of his time in his already packed schedule begins to sway. throughout the inquiries, he finds himself fixated on you. like the flattering nude color touched up on your plush lips. or how you have a habit of playing with strands of your hair when contemplating on what question to ask next. or the cute laugh you let out that was pleasant to his ears when he gave a much more aloof answer than you were expecting.

well, he can’t change the fact that he doesn’t need to think much when it comes to football. that’s just how naturally talented he is—the sport is second nature to him. honestly, he’s a bit bummed out that he can’t give a competent interviewer like you better responses.

what catches the snowy haired striker slightly off-guard is your next topic of questions about his e-sport endorsements. he wasn’t expecting you to delve into his hobbies. most interviews always glossed over that area in favor of asking something along the lines of “what was going through your head when you made that winning goal,” to which he could only say he was too caught up in the moment to really convey the feelings into words.

but with this opportunity, nagi goes on a mild tangent about the new first person shooter he’s been playing. even if his tone sounds indifferent on the surface, you don’t miss the hidden enthusiasm under the brighter twinkle of his eyes. you giggle which makes nagi pause.

“did i say something weird?” he asks back. you swear you detect a tonal whine in his voice, another endearing trait you didn’t know a 190 cm striker could possess.

“no.. just find it cute how much you can talk about your favorite games like that.”

nagi can’t tell whether the grin on your pretty lips is there to tease him or that you find his boyish charms endearing. either way, his cheeks puff and that only serves to make him more adorable in your eyes.

“well don’t let me stop you! i’d like to hear more about what things interest you other than soccer.” the look on your face fascinates him. you’re not even looking at your clipboard anymore, but right at him. it’s the tell-tale sign of someone who genuinely wants to know him not as the star player of manshine city, but just as regular nagi seishiro. he’s not used to that sort of treatment and as a result, he can’t meet your eyes, not realizing he flushes a lovely shade of pink that reaches the tips of his ears.

nagi pouts, glancing down at his phone that’s been laying near his thigh, untouched for a record of what must be ages, but that honestly doesn’t feel long enough to him. “no fair… you’re just teasing me…” he murmurs, but his fingers are already itching to ask his manager if he can extend the interview to spend more time with you.

ITOSHI SAE

the first opportunity you get to interview the itoshi sae is unconventional, to say the least.

“excuse me! please let me through–!”

“miss, you can’t be here– hey!”

the setting is chaotic, to the point where sae can make out the commotion in the background as he’s walking toward his rest area with his manager and bodyguard following beside him. when he glimpses at what all the fuss is about, he witnesses security personnel wrangle with a stray reporter.

spotting the reddish haired athlete, you find an opportunity to call out to him. “itoshi sae, please, may i have a word with you?”

to your dismay, security persistently blocks your view of the midfielder. despite being obstructed by a pair of burly men almost twice your size, you give them more of a struggle as you thrash around, even reprimanding them to “keep their hands to themselves if they know what’s good for them.” sae can’t help but be amused. a part of him finds your efforts admirable—watching you scrunch up your uniform and crease your notes at just a chance to speak with him.

“mister itoshi is far too busy to entertain any more of you today. please make your way to the exit–”

“it’s fine,” sae interjects to everyone’s surprise—mostly to the utter astonishment of you and his manager. the latter’s eyes widen scrupulously before he cups his hand next to the pro athlete’s ear.

“sir, i believe we’ll be running late to your next scheduled event if you decide to do a last minute interview,” the manager warns warily. “besides, haven’t you talked to enough of the media today? i mean look at her, she doesn’t even seem worth your time–”

“push everything back thirty minutes if you have to.”

his manager gawks. “but..?!”

one side-eye of sae’s piercing ocean eyes is enough for the man to retract his statement and mumble his apologies. that said and done, the security guards withdraw to let you through. you’re astonished by how much the situation can flip with the cooperation of a renown professional.

sae’s staff lead you into his spacious break room, preparing a set of chairs and leaving glasses of water on the coffee table before you start. having already taken his seat, he watches you run your hands through the wrinkled material of your blouse and pencil skirt. after finally fixing your stray hairs in place, you sit in front of him in all your pristine as if the whole conflict from earlier never happened. he wants to give you another point for professionalism.

“once again, thank you so much for granting me the opportunity to speak to you today,” you beam, mocking his manager hovering in the background with your unbeknownst-to-sae sly little smile.

sae grins, charmed. you arrange your notes one last time before moving onto your questions.

during the interview, sae comes to know your professionalism isn’t merely for show. you’ve done your research, analyzed his plays—his techniques, and as a result, ask him the most intriguing inquiries he’s sure no reporters asked him before. and he’s had his fair share of interviews throughout his developing career as a child prodigy. it’s evident you weren’t planning to waste his time and he’s appreciative of that fact.

there’s also an air of zeal you possess that allures him. he can’t exactly pinpoint what it is. your ingenuity? your liveliness? either way, he can’t imagine this to be his last interaction with you, and he makes sure that won’t be the case.

at just a simple snap of his finger, his manager is at his side. you have to hold in a snicker at how the man scurries over to the midfielder like a dog.

the two exchange a few words you don’t catch, only deciphering the dumbfounded look on the manager’s face which clashes with the stoic expression on sae’s. whatever the conversation was about, the former knows it’s a losing battle. at his loss, he pulls out a lanyard from the compartment attached to his clipboard. he gives it to sae, who takes it and leans across the space between you two to place it in your awaiting hands, as if you already knew from the manager’s defeated mannerisms that it was meant to be yours.

“this is..?” you begin inquiring as you eye the card on the lanyard methodically.

sae beats you to your discovery of that answer. “an exclusive press pass, which you can use to reach out to me again following any matches i’ve played in.”

mouth hanging open, you switch back and forth between the pass and sae’s marine eyes which don’t hold a shred of doubt.

he puts it simply.

“i’d like to continue this interview with you again.”

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #rin x reader #sae x reader #nagi x reader #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #rin fluff #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x you #nagi fluff #sae fluff #blue lock headcanons #sae itoshi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader

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kissinkou · 22 days

Text

LIKE A CHAMP .ᐟ

ft. msby bokuto

cw : highly suggestive. making out. groping. cursing. stripping clothes. allusions to s3x. petnames (baby). locker room activities with beefy yummy bokuto :3 @omitea @steleir for my wifies !!

wc : 1k

you can hardly hear yourself yelling over the crowd of cheers that erupt through the stands. large signs are held high with famous players jersey numbers, and the stomps of feet throughout the bleachers create a loud rhythmic bang. the boom, boom, boom of shoes against the metal as the athletes fall to the floor in celebration.

your hands clap as you look across the court, smiling wide at your husband who pumps his fist high in the air, loud yell of pure ecstasy coming straight from his mouth. you see him look to the crowd, seemingly searching until he’s able to lock eyes with you. his grin is so wide you feel as though theres a light shining in your eyes, his teammates slapping his back in praise.

bokuto is immediately striding over to you once he gets the go ahead from his coach, practically tackling you into a hug stronger than a bear, squeezing you tight. you can feel the sweat that sticks to his body, seeing a droplet run down his forehead when he pulls back to rattle you by your shoulders.

“ baby ! you saw me, yeah ? you saw me win that point ? did you ? ”

you can’t help but giggle at his frantic need for your praiseful answer, hand coming up to his face with a smile spreading onto your lips.

“ i did. it was a great game ! you did amazing ! im so proud of you, kou. ”

and that’s when you see it. the smallest but mischievous glint that pools into his eyes, and he may try to laugh it off as if it were nothing, but you know him.

you weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline or the earlier words that left your mouth, but it led to your hand being taken and practically dragged to the mens lockeroom.

theres a sudden slam that resonates throughout the echoey walls, your back coming into contact with the locker behind you.

“ what— kou-mmph ! ”

you’re taken by surprise when a pair of lips smash into yours, teeth clashing in a frantic hurry as your question gets stolen from your mouth.

“ m’ sorry baby— i just— please. ” bokuto muffles, plea’s slipping from his mouth between the kisses he leaves on your lips, hot breath fanning over your face.

bokuto’s hands begin to roam across your body now, squeezing at the soft plush of your hips that has you instinctively rolling them onto nothing.

you can feel the tingles that shoot up from your feet to your spine, knees buckling into eachother. there’s a familiar heat that pools into your stomach, and one look at bokuto is all he needs to know his next move.

his lips are still devouring yours, tongue swiping at your bottom lip as a silent ask to delve deeper. you allow him, opening your mouth just the slightest bit more so he can push his tongue past your lips and onto yours.

your hands slip from his forearms, traveling up his biceps to the back of his neck. your fingers grasp the small hairs at his nape, which makes bokuto let out a shakey breath into your mouth.

“ you don’t understand— how bad i wanted this. ” he starts, large hands now dangerously close to the plump of your bottom.

“ looked so fuckin’ pretty in the stands baby. just wanted to— have you right then. ” he starts to babble nonsense, groping your ass in a harsh squeeze that has you whimpering in his hold.

his skin is wet, hot, and sticky from the earlier match he had just played. sweat trickled down from his sideburns as it pooled under his chin, and you can feel the buldge in his uniform growing stiffer by the minute. your hand travels to the tent in his shorts, fingers just barely grazes over his print, and bokuto sucks in a harsh hiss through his teeth. always so sensitive.

his mouth begins to peck the corners of your lips, moving south down your neck with sloppy wet kisses. bokuto lets his lips hover over your skin for a moment, before he’s delving into your jugular to leave a soft bite on your most sensitive spot.

“ mm!— kou… ” is what comes out of your mouth next, egging him on before bokuto loses all sense of control he has.

his kisses have grown hungrier, keeping your lips latched onto his as he lifts you from your thighs. he keeps devouring you, effortlessly keeping you upright as he carries you to a separate area of the locker rooms.

there’s a clash and a bang, shower room door swinging open but you both don’t seem to mind it. your legs are wrapped around bokuto’s small waist, his hands on your ass the only thing keeping you steady. your back hits yet another wall, the tile cold against your skin.

“ i want— oh fuck ! ” you yell out in a sudden gasp, taken by surprise by the lukewarm water that shoots out of the showerhead in steamy streams.

you’re both soaked from head to toe in tapwater, and bokuto’s hair starts to fall down, strands tickling his nose. his clothes grow heavy on himself, sinking in to his skin and putting his abs on display through his jersey.

“ what baby ? cmon’, tell me want you want— please ? ” bokuto beckons, mumbling through the lips that trail hot kisses from your neck to your collarbones.

you take a deep, shaky breath to recollect your surroundings, thinking of every possible outcome of the situation at hand. you’re in the locker room showers, for godsake. but you know there’s no turning back now, love and needy lust swirling in you and your husbands irises like a whirlpool of desire.

“ —you. i want you. ”

bokuto’s fervant hands reach to lift the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head in a hurry to strip you until you’re bare and for the taking.

you’re both exposed to eachother, hair wet and as soaked as you are as his fingers lay a playful squeeze at the skin of your naked hip. he doesn’t try to hide the neediness that takes over him anymore, pulling and groping any part of you he can get his hands on, your warm flesh being fondled lewdly.

“ i’ll give you whatever you want. you’ll be proud of me then, too, yeah ? ”

©KISSINKOU — do not copy, steal, plagiarize, take inspo from without consulting, or translate my work.

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mionemymind · 3 days

Text

Don't Say Something Stupid

Summary: Wanda is unable to commit yet unable to admit she's wrong. (Part Two of Don't Ask Stupid Questions)

Warnings: Pure Angst, No Happy Ending, Maybe Part Three?

A/n: Wanted to hurt y'all more, so here y'all go :) Gif credits go to @thedorkphoenix

Word Count: 662

Masterlist

Part One | Part Two

“Y/n, your new partner is Emma.” Wanda turned her attention from Vision to Steve at the mention of Emma. Trying to hold back her offense, Wanda commented, “Y/n is my partner.”

Wanda looked back at Y/n, but their eyes hadn’t met as Y/n continued to stare at Emma’s file. “We believe their powers work better together, Wanda. Plus, your new assigned partner is Vision as your mind stones should help with increased efficiency and communication.”

Wanda held back the comment on the tip of her tongue. It wasn’t appropriate to say stupid things like, “But she’s always been my partner.”

“You dumped Vision?” Natasha asked surprisingly. Wanda looked away as she could tell Y/n had heard the comment with the way her shoulders tensed.

“He kept wanting more and honeslty…” Wanda sighed, feeling more guilty of the additional person she led on, “…and I couldn’t give him that.”

Natasha nodded in understatement as she squeezed Wanda’s shoulder. “Was it because y’all didn’t have the connection?” Wanda shook her head, feeling lost as to why she even did it in the first place.

“Honestly, I’m not too sure…I rather admit that before saying something stupid.” Wanda tried her best not to look at Y/n’s slumped shoulders as she proceeded to get up from the coach and walk to her room.

And as Natasha continued to talk, Wanda didn’t dare to remember how much Y/n hated feeling stupid.

“Why did you get in my way?” Emma was held back by Y/n as she aggressively questioned Wanda. “You almost got Y/n and I hurt with that stunt you pulled.”

Wanda rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Had it not been for my quick thinking, Y/n would’ve got hurt and you would’ve been swarmed.”

“We had it handled,” Emma bit back. And before Wanda could get another word, Y/n locked eyes with her, and silently pleaded to stop. Seeing Wanda’s stance falter, Y/n pulled Emma back and mumbled, “Let’s not fight anymore. We’ll figure it out a different day so come on.”

While Y/n tugged on Emma’s hand, Wanda mind couldn’t stop thinking of stupid things. The main one being, “Were you even on my side?”

“Are you ignoring me?” Wanda caught Y/n in the hallway, almost close to the spot where they used to secretly make out. The red head could tell that Y/n had wanted to be anywhere else but there with her. Although it stung, Wanda wanted answers.

“Wanda - I - let’s just be cordial.” Feeling even more confused, Wanda backed Y/n into the wall with her arms crossed.

“Cordial? You don’t even speak to me anymore.” Y/n still didn’t look at Wanda’s eyes. The girl was absolutely frustrated at how dense Wanda could be as if she couldn’t read the room.

“Well…” Y/n swallowed her anxiety and pain and finally looked into Wanda’s eyes, “…rules are rules. I broke them so this is me moving on from it.”

Wanda stepped back, feeling slapped and shocked at the confession. “Moving on? Are you seriously unable to continue without having feelings involved?” The red head didn’t know where this fierceness came from. It certainly didn’t explain what she truly meant. But she was always too stubborn to think it through.

Y/n scoffed, not surprised that Wanda could barely understand her place. “You ‘re right, I seriously don’t know why I ever fell for you.” The smug look on Wanda’s face fell. She’s had many people admit their feelings for her but none have ever admitted to regretting them.

Y/n didn’t wait for Wanda’s response and started to walk away but Wanda’s hand stopped her from going. Not wanting to hear anything more, Y/n blurted, “Don’t say anything stupid now, Wanda.”

Snatching her hand out of Wanda’s grip, Y/n declared, “You might get your heart broken if you do.”

Taglist: @halobaby @arelyitsherec8 @blackxwidowsxwife @cristin-rjd @madamevirgo @trikruismybitch @paradiselost916 @mmmmokdok @morbid-gaymer @dailyavengering @itsnottilly @helloalycia @randomshyperson @tomy5girls @daenerys713 @ensorcellme @lezzzbehonesthere @imagine-reblog

@sighsam @olsensnpm @tquick99 @feolok @emilyprentisslittlewhore @mvddison99 @iamapotato @yuhloversxx @mjaudrey @upsidedowndanvers @somewhatgreatexpectations @wandavixen @magicallymaximoff @username23345 @coollemonsaresour @littlewinchester15 @aimezvousbrahms @afuckingshituniverse @am-just-a-cosmic-joke-to-me

@ohmygooddamnbisexualmood @diaryoflife @s7uts @newyork1432 @the-anxious-stargazer @hello-mtf @marvelousbelladonna @ima-gi–na-tion @obsessed-with-wandamaximoff @the-camilucha

@itsnottilly @171611 @kaitlynroseb @daisybri7 @drpepperobsessed @bemyvitamin @musicinourlips @marvelousbelladonna @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xastrydx @chasethemoon @naixia00 @lostandsearching @stupidsapphicsstuff @haechanana @the-camilucha @severepeanutartisanhands @owloftheshadows @somewhatgreatexpectations @ywuen @mixed-fandom-mess @loomontoia @ilovemarvelwomen @coxmicbabygirl @cyanide-mustard @mrs-avenger3000 @prentisshoe @andrea-stark @simpforwandanat @abimess @randomshyperson @yourtaletotell @magically-queer-stuff

@imapotatao @iliketozoneout @maximoffbrossupremacy@olsensnpm @psychadelichues @whitelotus00 @taliiiaasteria @tynix @autorasexy @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @hiiraya @reginassweetheart @milkeeteaa

@msmothermaximoff @unicorniusfallapatorius @cakechan123 @anniedanvers @oh-thats-cute @ielliesitcheyereposts @how-to-disappearrr @justyourwritter69 @canvascoloredin (Wanted to tag y'all because I think y'all wanted a part two, but I won't add y'all to future taglists unless you want me to)

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #angst #wanda maximoff #Don't Say Something Stupid #Don't Ask Stupid Questions #friends with benefits trope #mionemymind

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quintinh43 · 2 months

Text

Simple Truths Pt. 1 | Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinns got some feelings, and so does y/n.

Pairings: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, depictions of anxiety, food, sickeningly fluffy domesticity. Use of the name Olivia.

Wc: 7.2k

Notes at the end!!

---

Quinn was the only other person who had a key to your apartment—given to him to use in case of emergency only. So when the front door burst open at 10 pm on a Tuesday, and Quinn barged in, suit askew and hair a mess, looking very frazzled, you dropped your bowl of ice cream and paused your movie as you approached him hurriedly.

"Y/n," he breaths, doubling over and panting with his hands resting on his knees while he tried to catch his breath. Your hands hovered around his face, unsure of what was wrong. Decidedly, you sit him down on the couch and hand him a bottle of water. Kneeling in front of him with your hands on his knees.

He chugs the water like a man left out in the desert sun. "Quinn, what's wrong? Are you alright?" You question carefully as he caps the water bottle. "Did you run here?"

He nods, leaning forward, head in his hands, sighing. He looks down at you, cheeks flushed. Your apartment buildings aren't far from each other, but for him to run for three straight kilometres and practically break down your apartment door, something must be terribly wrong.

A knot of despair coils in your stomach. "Is it your family? The team? Gotta tell me what's wrong so I can help you Quinny."

"I just wanted to come over," he mumbles.

It takes a moment for his words to process, and then you are throwing his half-full water bottle at his head. He ducks, professional athlete reflexes apparent. You stand up, pushing his chest so he flops backward on your couch.

"Are you joking right now?" You say incredulously, arms crossed over your chest like a displeased coach, "You did not bust down my apartment door at 10 pm on a school night, acting like someone died cause you just wanted to come over."

"Ok I wasn't that dramatic," Quinn says, loosening his tie and dropping it on your floor.

You glare at him, as you reclaim your spot on the couch, pulling the blanket over your bare legs. "You ran here."

"Well, i-" Quinn's mouth opens and closes as he tries to formulate a response.

"Close your mouth, Quinn, you'll catch flies" you snap, grabbing your bowl of ice cream from the coffee table.

"Ok, maybe I was being dramatic," he says with a sheepish smile.

"What happened to cell phones? Are we in the Stone Age? No text? No call? Just break down my apartment door?" You ask raising an eyebrow at him.

Quinn's cheeks flush, as he suddenly realizes how absurd the situation he painted was. "I was just bored" he shrugs sheepishly.

You look at him like he has grown two extra heads. "Quinn, I cannot believe you interrupted my night, acting like it was an emergency, because you were bored"

He gives you another sheepish smile. "Get comfy or get out" you instruct poking him in the ribs with your foot.

"My clothes still in the same place?" He asks, wrapping his hand around your ankle. You nod, un-pausing the movie as he drops your foot and, grabs his tie off the floor on his way to your bedroom.

You hear him shuffling around your bedroom, presumably hanging up his suit and grabbing a change of clothes before he turns on the shower. Within ten minutes, he's joined you on the couch, freshly showered and in a clean pair of shorts and a t-shirt with his own little bowl of ice cream.

He sits across from you, and you toss the blanket over his lap and tuck your feet under his thighs. You pause the movie again and stare him down with a look that demands an explanation. Because no way, he broke into your apartment and practically gave you a heart attack cause he was bored.

Quinn sighs, promptly forgetting that his hair is wet as he runs a hand through it. He makes a face at the uncomfortable feeling and wipes it dry against his shirt. You can't help but laugh at him.

"I don't know" he sighs "I just started to feel super overwhelmed, and everything felt like it was closing in on me, and I just needed to get out."

"How are you feeling now?" you ask stealing his ice cream since he's not eating it.

"Like I overreacted, because now I feel perfectly fine. I'm sorry if I disturbed you." His voice goes quiet at the end, and your heart pangs for him.

"No sweat Quinny, I'm glad you're feeling better." you hum, licking ice cream off the spoon. Quinn watches you intently, not for the reason you think as you hold out a spoon of ice cream for him. He leans in, closing his lips around the spoon, keeping eye contact with you the entire time.

Your stomach somersaults and you quickly look away, pulling the spoon back. After nearly six years of friendship, two of which were spent yearning for Quinn to love you as more than a friend and the other four spent accepting that he would never see you as anything more, he still sometimes stole your breath and made your heart flip when he looked at you a certain way.

You had met the first time he came to Vancouver, scoping for apartments. You were nineteen, working part-time at a coffee shop not far from Rogers arena when a frazzled-looking Quinn and his parents walked in. They had ordered coffee and pastries, and while you were serving them, you couldn't help but hear Quinn's anxieties about how he would "never find a place to stay in time for the beginning of the season" and how he would end up sleeping out of a hotel.

Ellen had sighed, trying to reassure him for the millionth time that everything would be ok, while Jim had been in contact with the real estate agent.

As nineteen-year-old you placed a spinach quiche in front of Quinn, and you spoke up. Making a decision that would change your life for the better. Your roommate had recently moved out of the apartment, and you hadn't yet found a replacement.

Ellen's eyes lit up, and you wrote down your number for her. A month later, Quinn Hughes was your new roommate. The two of you quickly became good friends, and even though you only shared an apartment for a few months, your friendship only grew stronger with time.

The rest is history.

"I think... I'm missing Jack and Luke a lot these days." Quinn says with a sigh as he takes the bowl of ice cream from you. You cross your arms with a fake pout, and Quinn rolls his eyes, feeding you a spoon.

You don't say anything yet. He's not done talking, and you don't wanna scare him away by interrupting too soon, or saying the wrong thing before he's done talking.

"And I think, with this being the worst we've done all season, everything just feels like a jumbled foggy mess."

Quinn sighs for the millionth time. He places the empty bowl on the coffee table and wishes he could sink deeper into the couch. You yelp as he yanks your legs apart and crawls between them, laying his head on your chest. It wasn't uncommon for the two of you to cuddle, but the manner in which he just did so has you turning red, you're glad he can't see your face right now.

One of your arms comes around his back, your fingers making patterns, while the other delves into his hair. "You can't make fun of me" he whispers.

"Never Quinny," you say resting your chin atop his head.

"I feel like I'm failing" he sighs, "I feel like I'm failing the team, and my brothers and my parents and you. And I just- it's hard. Its all so hard"

Your heart hurts for Quinn at his confession.

"Quinn you could never fail me. Or your parents or your brothers, or your team," you say softly, fingers scratching his scalp lightly. He hums, eyes fluttering closed. You can feel his eyelashes tickle your collarbones.

"I love you, your parents' love, and your brothers love you, and no matter what, we are here for you. Just because you are having a bad stint doesn't mean you are failing as a captain. You are a team. You win together, and you lose together, and it's not all on you."

Quinn sighs again, pulling away from you. He sits on his knees facing you, tongue darting against his lips in nervous habit. "But what if-"

"Hush, Quinny" you pull him back on top of you, wrapping him in the safe cocoon of your arms "There's no But what ifs. You are an amazing captain and brother and son and leader. Everyone in your life is so lucky to have you. You are doing so so brilliantly."

You lay in comfortable silence, stroking his hair softly. Holding him close and listened to his breathing. What you would give to keep him in the safety of your arms forever. To grind all his insecurities into dust, and show him what a brilliant human he is.

"Move in with me" he speaks so quietly, that you don't know if you heard him right. "It'll be just like old times."

"I'll think about it" you say softly. He breathes out a relieved sigh and plays the movie. The dull ache in your chest turns sharp. After four fucking years of getting over him, he comes to you with vulnerability stark in his baby blues, and that's all it takes to undo the last four years of work. Damn him. Damn it all.

The two of you fall asleep tangled on the couch, with the movie playing in the background. You wake with a crick in your neck and Quinn half underneath you, an arm around your waist holding you close to him. It isn't unusual, but after last night it fills you with such a feeling of uncertainty that it's borderline uncomfortable.

Your phone reads 5:00 am, and you huff, prying his arm off of you. He groans, arm tightening around your waist, so you can't escape his hold.

"Let me up Quinn," you say, tapping his cheek.

"Don' wanna," he grumbles, "so warm."

"I'll bite you," you warn.

"No, you won't," Quinn says against your hair, sounding slightly more awake. You smirk, turning your head and biting his Bicep.

"Ow! Y/n/n, what the hell!" He groans, shooting up into sitting position. His arm is still around you, and you bump your head against his with a laugh, "I warned you."

You get up from on top of him, grabbing the ice cream bowls from the coffee table and discarding them in the sink. "Get your ass up Quintin. We're going on a run."

"I don't have clothes" he tries as an excuse, flopping back down on the couch. You snort at the lamest excuse he has ever made. He has nearly everything at your apartment. It was basically as if he lived with you already.

Hell, there was even an extra pair of his skates in your coat closet. Honestly moving in wouldn't even be that hard. He'd probably just have to bring his hockey bag over. Except, he had the nicer apartment. So logically it would make more sense for you to move into his place.

"Nice try Quinn, get up and get changed or I'm coming back with a bucket of ice water," you say, going to your bathroom to brush your teeth and get ready for your run. It takes you less than fifteen minutes to be fully dressed, and by the time you're done, Quinn is up and ready, tossing you a protein bar.

"I forgot my phone at home," he says sheepishly, taking a bite out of his own protein bar.

"You'll live," you say patting his chest as you pass him to put on your runners.

"I can't believe you want me to run without music, you heathen" he gasps offendedly, grabbing his pair of runners that he keeps at your house.

"We can share," you say, tossing him an air pod, a gift he had given you a while back. He catches it and tucks it into his ear without complaint. That is until you turn on the music.

"I'll never understand the music you run to" he grumbles, and you take the elevator down to the main floor.

"It's about the beat of the music" you sigh, probably for the millionth time. For all his complaining, he doesn't actually mind it. The elevator stops and the main floor, and you and Quinn both wave to the doorman as you head out.

As soon as you exit the building, you take off. Quinn is unprepared. "Hey! What- wait up!" He calls, taking off after you. You cackle as you run farther away from him. Albeit you only sprint away from him for less than a block, and then you are stopped by a red light. He is by your side before the light turns green and you grin at him, keeping your feet moving.

"Ready Freddy?" You grin, as the seconds count down before the light turn green.

"Yes, I am Sam," he responds with a dopey smile so blinding you feel your heart go faint.

The light turns green, and the two of you take off together this time. Although you technically have to run just a little faster, because Quinn's legs are longer. After two more stop lights, you cut into the park, and this is where the real view began. You run along the coastline, the fogginess of the morning clinging to the surface of the ocean. The mountains loom in the background, and you sigh. Vancouver's scenery couldn't be beat.

After 45 minutes and roughly seven-ish kilometres, you've both worked up a good sweat as you enter your apartment building. "What do you have today?" You ask Quinn, in between deep breaths as you being your heart rate back down.

"Practice at 8:00 and that's it for the day," he says, handing you back your air pod.

"I'll drive you back to yours, on my way to work?"

"Yeah that's good" he hums as you unlock your door.

"I'm gonna shower, and get dressed, do what you will," you say, toeing off your shoes and kicking them haphazardly into the closet. Quinn rolls his eyes as he straightens them out and puts his beside them.

You strip your sweaty clothes off and make sure your hair is out if the way, before hopping into the steamy shower. You're in there long enough to make sure you are clean, and then you're getting dressed. Brushing your hair into a neat bun, you pick out an easy outfit, that you know won't make you hate your life as the day drags on, and with that, you're back in the kitchen.

Quinn hums to himself as he flips eggs for breakfast. There's a glass waiting for you on the counter, with a pink straw sticking out of it. Quinn's own glass is sitting on the counter beside him half finished. He spots you coming out of your room and smiles, sliding the glass towards you. "Smoothie," he says.

"Oh, also, I didn't know what you wanted for lunch. You have some salmon and potatoes in the fridge, and some Thai chicken or I can make you something quick if you want?" He offers, placing a plate of eggs and toast in front of you.

There's a smiley face in your toast. The domesticity of it all makes your chest ache. He's in your kitchen, making you breakfast, and packing you lunch. "Oh!" His eyes light up as he slides onto the barstool beside you, "And I made your coffee" he points to your trusty travel mug that you never go to work without, that's filled to the brim with coffee.

"Thanks, Quinn" you mumble around your mouthful of eggs. The overwhelming feeling of if only this was real takes root in your chest, and you take a deep breath fighting off the urge to cry. It could be real, but not in the way you want it.

You eat your breakfast silently, completely forgetting that Quinn had asked you a question until he nudges your knee. "You're thinking loud," he says softly, "wanna get it off your mind?"

"Oh, it’s nothing" you smile, albeit unconvincingly, but Quinn doesn't push.

"So...Lunch?" He asks, taking both your empty plates and putting them in the dishwasher.

"Oh, actually I was thinking why don't you spin by for lunch? The kids haven't seen you in a while, and if practice is at 8 then you'll get off at the perfect time to come have lunch with me and spend the rest of your day pestering me at work?" You say, all trace of your anxious stupor gone.

Quinn lights up at the idea. "Yeah, of course, that sounds like fun."

Visiting you at work is one of his favourite things, especially when he gets to have lunch with you and hang around afterwards. And as an elementary school teacher, whenever Superstar Canuck Captain Quinn Hughes is in your classroom, it becomes the most popular room in the building. With students and staff.

"That still doesn't answer what you want for lunch," he says poking you with his foot.

"Surprise me" you shrug. You finish off your smoothie with a slurp and put it in the dishwasher before gathering your things.

Quinn is still doddling around your kitchen, "Alright, let's go, I don't wanna make you late for practice" you say slipping on your shoes.

"I'm coming, I'm coming" he slips on his shoes, and tucks a bag of snacks into your school bag, grinning at you knowingly. You roll your eyes at him, locking your apartment door behind you. The drive to his place is less than five minutes, and Quinn spends the whole drive criticizing your music.

By the time you stop in front of his building, you're ready to smite him. "Get out of my car Hughes or I'll throw you out." He sticks his tongue out at you and you roll your eyes, unlocking it for him to get out. Sometimes you think the only reason your friendship has lasted so long is because you are good at dealing with children, and sometimes Quinn acts just like a child.

"See you later Y/n/n" he grins.

"Text me when you get in!" You say, before he shuts the door.

He salutes you with two fingers and jogs into his building. You wait until you receive a text from him before pulling out of the parking spot and heading to school.

The hours leading to lunch are excruciatingly long. The temptation to spill the surprise that Quinn is coming to visit today is nearly worth the excitement the kids will have. But you know the looks on their faces will be so much more worth it when he shows up unannounced.

As you mark assignments, and the kids silently read, your phone buzzes with a text from him. It's as if he can sense when you're thinking about him.

Q: I'm out front when you're ready.

You glance at the clock: two minutes until the bell rings, and then you're free.

You: Be out in 5

You stand up, addressing your class "Everyone can put their books away, and go get your jackets and outdoor shoes on, and as soon as the bell rings, you may go."

The scramble to the cubbies is immediate, as kids kick off their shoes and yank on their jackets. They line up at the door, bouncing on their toes. You pull on your own light jacket and wait at the front of your class with them, chatting to the talkative ones. The bell rings and they run from the classroom like it's on fire.

Rolling your eyes at their enthusiasm, you grab the sign that says "Ms. Y/l/n has left the building" so that your kids know to ask Mr. Farmer if they need anything from the classroom and lock the doors. You let the office know that you'll be gone for the duration of lunch and with that, you escape the building.

Quinn is waiting out front in his car. The one he drives when he wants to look less suspicious. You snort to yourself, as you open the door and slide into the passenger seat.

"What's funny?" Quinn asks immediately, raising an eyebrow at you as you do your seat belt.

"I was just thinking that it's funny you have two cars, one that you bought to drive specifically when you don't wanna be easily recognizable"

"Oh I'm sorry," Quinn teases, pulling out of his parking spot carefully "Have I offended the lady by not picking you up in my Porsche?"

Something about watching him drive makes your stomach flutter. The slope of his neck as he looks over his shoulder, the prominence of the veins in his hands as he grips the steering wheel. Your throat goes dry, and you look away quickly as the thoughts spiral darker, into thoughts you should not be having, about your best friend and his car. Especially not while sitting beside him, in said car.

"Earth to Y/n?" Quinn says, poking you in the cheek, you turn your head, instinctively biting his finger. He hisses and yanks it away. "You've been spacey since this morning, what's up?"

"Nothing," you sigh, "just thinking."

"Well don't think too hard, I wouldn't wanna strain your limited brain cells" he teases, flicking you on the forehead. You glare at him, crossing your arms like a child. His demeanour from last night has done a complete 180°. You know he feels bad for telling you all his feelings, but you also know that he'll bring it up again when he's ready.

There's silence between you two, accompanied by the base of a pop song that plays low through his speakers. It's uncomfortable. And that's scary because silence with Quinn isn't supposed to be uncomfortable. He's supposed to be the one constant in your life. Solid, sturdy and unchanging in the face of the unknown. And somehow, in the course of one night and weighty conversation, he has become the unknown. Why did he have to come into your life and unearth all these feelings?

His hand is reaching for yours, and he laces your fingers together, stopping the nervous twitch of your fingers, and your heart stutters even more.

"If it's about moving in with me, don't overthink it," he says with all the simplicity in the world "I'll understand if you don't wanna do it. I mean, we aren't nineteen anymore, you are your own person."

And before you really know you are saying,"I'll do it!" Comes spilling from your lips. Quinn looks at you, eyes hopefully like you've never seen before, and he squeezes your hand.

"You will?"

You nod, and he squeezes your hand again, the grin on his face so bright it could light up the darkest of nights. And at that moment, the only thing you know is that Quinn was derived from whatever Divine power there was because no smile should be able to chase away all premonitions of darkness like his does.

Lunch is burgers and fries, at some high-end restaurant that Quinn likes. You talk about everything, and nothing all at once, and once more comfort settles in your bones like an old friend.

"Did you tell the kids I'm coming?" Quinn asks, stealing a fry off your plate. You smack his hand with a glare and he simply steals another one.

"No, I was thinking you could pop out from behind my desk or something."

Quinn rolls his eyes with a smile. "Sure, that'll be fun" he'd be lying if he said the way you talked about the kids didn't stir something funny in his chest. "Is Olivia there today?" He asks casually.

Something not akin to jealousy sparks under your skin. Olivia Daunt. A teacher down the hall who enjoyed making underhanded comments about you to anyone who would listen. And Somehow she was always needing to borrow stuff from your room, whenever Quinn was around.

"Unfortunately" you grumble, pushing away your clean plate. Quinn finishes a second after you, and he's signalling the Waiter for the cheque. You slap your card on the table, and Quinn shoots you a look so disbelieving someone would think you just plucked a live fish out of the tank and ate it like candy.

He snatches your card off the table and shoves it in his pocket.

"Quinn," it sounds like you're scolding a child.

"Y/n," he parrots.

"Seriously, let me get it this time."

He snorts like you've made a particularly funny joke. "Not a chance, sweetheart"

"Quinn, please."

"Y/n, I was the one who took you out legally that means I have to pay."

"Legally?" You scoff as he puts his card on the table.

"Mhm," you steal his move, snatching his card off the table and sticking it in your pocket.

"Y/n" he warns, hand inching towards you across the table.

"I was the one who asked you to get lunch with me, so I think that means, legally, I have to pay. Now put my card on the table Quinn"

"Don't play with me, Y/n" he says, voice low, eyes demanding. A shiver runs down your spine, and the yearning that floods you is overwhelming. Oh, how you wish he was looking at you like that in a different scenario. Without a table separating you. Maybe with less clothing, too.

Your cheeks turn red as you realize that for the second time today, your thoughts towards Quinn have taken an unholy route. Unintelligible grumbles fall from your lips as you put his card on the table, hoping he stops looking at you like that right now.

The smile that lights his face is worth losing the battle. He doesn't give you back your card until he's paid, and the two of you are walking out of the restaurant side by side. You make it back to the school just before lunch is over, with just enough time to hide Quinn under your desk to surprise the kids.

As the kids settle in before the last bell rings, your eyes flick to Quinn, crouched under your desk. He looks up at you from where he's sitting between your legs under your desk. Hands braced on your knees.

The sight of him kneeling under your desk, has you thinking downright sinful things. You look away quickly. He squeezes your knee, and you stand up, unable to deal with the burn of his palm through your pants any longer without combusting.

"Alright, kids," you clap, "before we bring out our science books, I have a surprise for y'all." the room immediately explodes in excitement.

"Is it donuts?" One kid screams, sending the other kids into a frenzy.

You laugh as they scream their theories at you, and let them get it out of their system.

"Alright!" You yell over their voices with a smile, "drumroll, please," you say, walking to the light switch animatedly as the kids tap their hands on their desks rapidly. The plan was you would flip off the light dramatically, pretend your surprise hadn't worked when you turned the lights back on, get everyone to take out their science books and then Quinn would jump out before you started teaching.

You flick off the lights, and the drumming gets louder. Then the lights turn on, and the noise ceases abruptly while the kids look around.

"Oh man!" You sigh dramatically, "it didn't work," you pout, walking to the front of the class.

There's a mixture of sighs and groans as everyone gets out their science books. Your back is to the class, as you write the beginning of today's science lesson on the board. You crook your fingers at your side, signalling for Quinn to show himself.

He jumps out from under your desk with a "boo!" And chaos unfolds. You grin as the kids scream, some of them launching out of their chairs to attack Quinn with hugs. "MR. HUGHES!!" They yell as they crowd around him, jumping up and down.

The first time he'd come to the classroom, they were mostly starstruck and too nervous to talk to him very much. Now, whenever you brought him in, they had the biggest smiles and were armed with non-stop stories to bombard him with.

Quinn looks at you, mouthing, "Can I do it?"

You nod, and he grins as brightly as the Kids. He claps his hands three times. "One two three, eyes on me!"

The kids respond in kind, with two claps, saying, "One, two, eyes on you."

"Alright, everyone, listen to Ms. Y/l/n," he grins, hands on his hips.

The kids all turn to you for instruction. "Ok, everyone, please take your seat. Mr. Hughes will be here for the rest of the day, so you all will have plenty of time to bug him."

The kids take their seats happily, unwilling to lose their Mr. Hughes privileges. At that moment, Olivia chooses to appear at your classroom door, a scowl on her lips. "Some of us are trying to teach, so if you keep it down, that would be-"

She stops mid-sentence as she notices Quinn. Her voice turned sickly sweet. "Oh! Quinn! I didn't know you were dropping by today. How have you been?"

Quinn gives her a polite smile. "I'm alright," he says curtly. You can't help but smirk as Olivia's jaw clenches.

"Did you leave your class alone?" You ask, brows raised. She huffs as if remembering she has a job to do and all but storms out of your room without finishing what she came to say in the first place.

The remainder of the day goes by smoothly; your class is on extra good behaviour, because Quinn is there. As predicted, Olivia has all of a sudden forgotten all of her teaching supplies and, over the course of the next hour, comes into your room to borrow a white board marker, a stapler, post-it notes, a pen and a couple of other things you know she has.

Olivia also definitely opened her big mouth because a few other teachers dropped by under the guise of needing to borrow something or other lame excuses. They say hi to Quinn, like they didn't know he was there, and linger a little too long.

When the bell rings for third recess, you cherish your time alone with Quinn before all the teachers who don't have hall patrol have somehow found themselves in your classroom.

"Do you ever wear my jerseys to school?" Quinn asks, offering you slices of the tangerine he just peeled as he sits on your desk while you lesson plan.

"Usually if I'm coming to a game after, or if your games are on Fridays," you say, absent-mindedly opening your mouth for him to feed you. He pops the orange slice in, not even questioning it.

"Why Fridays?" He asks, placing another orange slice in your mouth.

"Cause Friday is the last day of the week, so it deserves some celebration."

Quinn's smile is shy. He doesn't understand why you would associate him with celebration, but warmth floods his chest, and he basks in it.

As if Olivia can sense that you are enjoying your peaceful moment with Quinn, she walks in, hips swishing and voice dripping with false sweetness. "Y/nnn," she whines, drawing out the last syllable of your name, "Hi Quinny," she giggles.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. Quinn looks uncomfortable. "Ok, firstly, his name is not Quinny, so don't call him that." You say, crossing your arms over your chest, but before you can get to your second point, she cuts you off.

"Fiesty!" She mocks, and your cheeks burn. At that moment, three more teachers enter, and you sigh, knowing they are all here to ogle and flirt with Quinn. Unfortunately for them, you do not have the patience to deal with this right now.

"Alright, everyone out. I'm busy."

Olivia is the first to protest, "But I need-"

"Get out." You grind, glaring at her. She rolled her eyes and hurried out with the other teachers close behind. Quinn sighs a breath of relief as the door shuts behind them. Sometimes, you forget that he isn't a people person, and the way he is around you is reserved for you and you only.

"Sorry," you mumble out, tucking your lesson plan into your binder.

"S' not your fault," he smiles

"Wanna help me set up for the last activity for today?" you ask, holding out a stack of papers in a sort of peace offering.

"Sure," Quinn smiles, taking the stack of papers. He places one on each desk, inspecting it as he goes, "What's this for?"

"It's part one of our compassion project," you say, pulling the example paper out of your binder. It was a piece of paper titled 'Who I admire' The assignment was for each student to pick someone they admired, and write down a little bit about what they mean to you and why they inspire you. Part two of the project would be to make a little photo collage of their inspirational person.

"Can I see your example?" Quinn asks curiously, joining you back at your desk; you hand it over to him, the tips of your ears going red with embarrassment. Your paper reads:

'Who I admire'

One of the people I admire most is Quinn Hughes. He is my best friend and the person I love to spend time with the most. I admire Quinn because he is a hard worker and a natural leader who cares about everyone before himself. Quinn inspires me because he is a kind and caring person who always tries his hardest and can get back up no matter how hard he falls.

"You...admire me?"

"Of course, I do," You answer softly, "I don't think there's anyone I admire more."

Quinn's breath is caught in his throat. The sentences are worded for elementary schoolers, yet the weight they hold is unmatched to him. Sometimes, simplicity meant the most. Just as Quinn is about to say more, the bell rings, signaling the end of recess.

While you wait at the door to greet your class as they file in, you don't notice that Quinn is scribbling furiously on one of the many extra sheets you printed for the inevitable mistakes and overthinkers. After the class is settled and you explain the assignment, they get to work.

A low buzz of chatter fills the room as the kids work, asking each other who they will write about. Quinn took your chair while you were explaining the assignment, so you sat on your desk in front of him.

"Here's another example sheet," He says, handing you the sheet he was working on. You glance over it quickly, your smile growing softer as you read what he wrote.

One of the people I admire most is Y/n Y/l/n. She is my best friend and one of my favourite people. I admire her because she is kind and funny and always believes in me. She inspires me because knows what she wants, and she isn't afraid to put in work to get what she wants.

The irony of the last sentence is not lost on you. Years of wanting Quinn, and you never put in the work to get him. You buried your feelings in hopes that they would go away. The fear of losing Quinn all too prominent to risk the friendship over some silly little feelings.

"I love it," you smile, pinning it on the board next to yours so the kids have another example to look at. You and Quinn sit together at your desk, chatting about mundane things here and there while kids come up to ask questions. On more than one occasion, you got asked if they could use Quinn as their person, to which your answer was no because he was your example. Quinn laughed about it every time.

"What do you want for dinner?" Quinn asks, absent-mindedly scrolling through recipes on his phone.

"I've got leftovers in my fridge. I'll eat those."

Quinn looks at you, face scrunched in displeasure. "Don't be silly, we are having dinner together. What do you want? And don't say surprise me."

Well damn. He took the words right out of your mouth. You tap your fingers in thought. "Steak," you grin.

"Steak?"

"Steak." You nod. If there's one thing Quinn can cook absolutely magnificently, it's steak.

"OK, what should we do on the side?" He hums, presumably checking his grocery list.

"Let's do that spinach fruit salad and roasted potatoes and asparagus?"

"Sounds peachy. I'll stop and get groceries when we leave. My place or yours?"

Soon, you will be able to say Our place you sigh. Being with him, but not with him is eating you from the inside out. Six years of friendship be damned. Living like this was killing you.

"Mine," you glance at the clock, ready to get this day over with and get home. You stand up, putting in your teacher's voice, "Alright, class, we have fifteen minutes till home time. Five to clean, five to get ready, and the last five to talk to Mr. Hughes!"

The kids cheer, and you dismiss them to clean. Within ten minutes, everyone is sitting in a circle on the carpet around you and Quinn, asking him questions.

"Mr. Hughes?" A little girl named Meredith raises her hand.

"yeah?"

"When are you gonna Marry Ms. Y/l/n?"

Your face turns red faster than you thought possible. Quinn looks at you with a glimmer in his eyes, a dusting of pink on the tips of his ears. Before Quinn can answer, you cut in, "Oh honey, we're just best friends." You say softly. It's physically painful for the words to come out of your mouth, but unfortunately, it's the truth.

Quinn looks at you, eyes swimming with emotions you can't discern. The bell finally rings, signalling the day is over. Usually, you would hang around for another hour, preparing for the next day, but with the promise of Quinn making dinner, you want to get home as soon as possible.

After making sure there are no more stragglers, you practically drag Quinn out of the building before anyone can stop him from flirting. "I'll meet you back at your place in a little." He says, walking you to your car.

"Yeah, I'll see you in a bit." You watch as he walks to his car and gets in before pulling out of the parking lot and heading home.

Less than an hour later, Quinn is opening your apartment door with a few grocery bags in hand. He places them on the counter, hands you the latte he brought you, and changes into a more comfortable set of clothes before starting dinner.

"Take a break and come give me a hand?" Quinn suggests, from where you've been marking and planning since you got home.

"I'm almost done," you grumble, wanting to finish so you don't have to think about work for the rest of the night. Quinn glances at the clock, "You're getting huffy," he says fondly.

"I'll be done in ten," you sigh.

"Alright," Quinn hums, "I'm physically removing your work from in front of you in ten minutes."

You glare at him, knowing he will make good on his threat and get back to work, doing only the stuff that needs to be done for tomorrow. As promised, you put everything away in ten minutes, and wash your hands to help Quinn in the kitchen.

"Where do you want me, Chef?" You ask, drying your hands on the kitchen towel.

"Salad," he grins, nodding his head towards the salad stuff on the counter. Grabbing a knife and a cutting board, you stand beside him and prep the stuff. Your hips bump and your arms brush as you work in the comfort of each other's space, chatting about whatever comes to mind.

And when dinner is ready, and Quinn pours the wine, your heart aches. The steak tastes like ash on your tongue, and you feel the tears welling behind your eyes.

"Y/n? What's wrong? Are you ok?"

You sigh out a deep breath, and six years of friendship be damned because you just can't do this anymore. Your fork clangs against your plate, and you look at Quinn with a gut-wrenching sadness in your eyes.

"I can't do this anymore," you say softly, eyes downcast. You can't look at him. You can't. Your heart would break, and you know it.

"Do what? What's wrong? I don't understand." his voice is desperate, pleading, worried. Then he's abandoning his plate and kneeling by your chair, a comforting hand on your knee. "Please," he whispers, squeezing your knee, "let me help you. Tell me what's wrong."

The outline of his palm burns against your leg. You stand quickly, the chair sliding backwards. Your head swims, and you don't know what to do next. You want to tell him he can't help because it's his damn fault. You want to say you can't do this. You want to scream.

"What can't you do Y/n? Let me in. Let me help." He says, standing, stepping into your space. For all the times it felt comforting to have him in your space now it feels like misery.

"Quinn," you sigh, "I can't do this," you motion between you at the dinner. "I can't do it anymore. I just can't. It's killing me from the inside out."

Quinn is in utter disbelief. He looks so so hurt. You can't believe you caused him to look like that. A bitter laugh bubbles in your throat because fuck. His voice sounds foreign and far away. "I- what? Did I do something wrong?"

You sigh, running a hand down your face. "You know," you start knowing you'll regret it, that this will be the end of your friendship. Six wonderful, glorious, beautiful years. The memories would be there, but the bitterness of an ended friendship would taint them.

"I have loved you for six years." It comes out quiet. So utterly quiet, like raising your voice any louder, will shatter both of you into a million irreparable pieces. Quinn stares. The silence is worse than anything he could've said. It's all-consuming, crawling under your skin with whispers of it over. It's done. You've lost him.

Something snaps, and you can't take it anymore. You run to the front door, slip on a pair of shoes and run down the hall, down the stairs and out of the building. Away from Quinn and his suffocating silence.

---

Hello hello my loves. I hope yall are doing good on this Saturday night. So, as you can tell, this is a very long one. A whopping 7.2 k words! I definitely didn't mean for it to get this long. And you know what's funny?? I cut soooo much out. Originally, this fic was supposed to be completely different lmao. Not sure what happened but here we are! I'm probably gonna make this an Au, cause the amount of stuff I thought up while I was writing Quinn x Elementary school teacher, is unhinged. Anyways I hope yall enjoy!! Love Soph.

Find Pt.2 Here

#qh43 #quinn hughes #nhl imagine #quinn hughes x reader #nhl x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #hughes brothers #domesticity #angst #fluff #vancover canucks #captain quinn #loving you is as easy as abc 123

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wosoamazing · 2 months

Text

There is no 'I' in Team

Summary: Based on this request.

Warnings: Panic Attack, Mentions of Abuse Father (reading also asking not to be hit etc)

A/N: I hope you like it.

The media was relishing your appearance, every reporter had thrown your name out in whatever interview they were doing, you were in stories on the front cover of the news.

“The 14 year old power house” “Some of football's greatest legends have honoured this youngster” “Beckham: That kid is insane, a star”

______

“And she missed, straight over the crossbar. What a rare sight to see,”

“Yes, yes, yes, ohh, missed opportunity again, it went wide”

“Fantastic save by Mary Earps”

"Wide yet again. She has had 40 attempts this game and only 2 on target, both of which Earps has saved,"

Australia lost the world cup to England, you felt like it was your fault, the media decided it was your fault, you were still plastered all over the media, however in a different light this time.

"Has the wonder kid lost her Wonder?" "A gold medal gone, was Y/F/N Y/L/N the right choice?" "Wonder if Beckham still thinks she is a star"

After the game you were incredibly disappointed in yourself and upset, and angry with yourself, you really questioned whether you were the best player of the team, the night you recieved a silver medal at the world cup was not celebrated by you. You were upset and so was the rest of the team, however they all still celebrated, but how could you when you were the reason the heavy disc that hung round their necks was silver and not gold. You were the only one that night who still had tears of sadness falling from your eyes as you went up to collect your medal, you still had sad tears in your eyes as you arrived back to your hotel room. Most of your teammates had left the celebrations to talk to you and comfort you at some point during the night. starting with the obvious ones, Caitlin, then Steph, then Sam, and ending with the not so obvious pick, Kyra, you and Kyra were very close friends it was just that the girls didn't think she would be able to help you in the way you needed. You didn't say a single word to any of them, you just continued to cry, as you remained in your tight coil on the bed.

You didn't talk to anyone about football for months, or even just in general, you tried your best to avoid everyone, you couldn't kick the feeling of knowing you had disappointed them. After training you would just go straight up to your room and lock yourself in, only appearing for dinner. Katie and Caitlin your newly adoptive parents were growing concerned, and were trying to figure out how they could discuss what was going on with you.

______

The opening match for the season hadn't gone that well for you, your shots weren't going in, which made you frustrated and with every off target shot your frustration grew. You couldn't wait for the final whistle to be blown, you just wanted to get off the pitch.

You were near the commentators as the whistle was blown, you could hear their debrief and opinions on the game, the players, more specifically you “As a coach you would be starting to think about changing your go to line up, off days happen, but this, this is different, from being up there with the best of the best, to missing the most basic shots, the shots that should 100% go in. Shots that caused your country to come second.”

You felt your breath hitch at that moment, the reminder you were the reason you came second, the reminder of how you let down your team, your whole country. Suddenly you could feel every single beat of your heart, you could hear blood rushing past your ears, you ran down the tunnel through the locker room and into one of the bathroom stalls, quickly locking the door before sliding down the wall. Curling yourself in a tight ball, hiding yourself away from the world.

Your Dad’s words racing through your mind “You’re a let down, a failure. A complete waste of space.” You never believed him but maybe he was right, maybe the abusive bastard was actually correct, what if you were wrong, what if you didn’t deserve a new life. What if Katie and Caitlin didn’t actually want you, what if they weren’t actually proud of you, what if they were ashamed of you, what if you were a waste of their time, what if they hated you.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw someone standing near you. How did they get through the locked door? Were you so incredibly hopeless that you couldn't even lock a door? They took a step forward, and you felt your body start shaking slightly, coiling yourself into a tighter ball.

“Please don’t hit me, I’m sorry, I know I'm a waste of space.” you felt a hand on you, however it wasn’t a painful touch, it was a soft comforting hand, but you couldn't risk it, trying to move out of the grip of the persons hand, however soon they had both hands on you, slightly gripping onto you so you couldn’t move away.

“I’m sorry, I’ll do better, I’ll leave, I know you’re ashamed of me”

“Baby girl it's okay, it's just me, I’m safe, I’m not going to hit you, I love you, it’s okay, everything is alright,” They said in a very soft, calm voice as they moved you into their lap. A familiar scent met your nose it was Katie, you slightly relaxed at her presence, but quickly tensed again, what if she thought you were a burden, you felt like you were swaying, your head felt foggy, you felt sick, your body was shaking, your face was wet from your streaming tears.

You felt the hands wrap around you tighten, “I’ve got you, you’re okay, can you take some deep breaths for me? Like we practise.” You took some deep breaths. “Good Job,” you sat there with Katie for a few minutes.

“How about you have a shower and then we can talk. Okay?” you nod, “But just know that Caitlin and I love you so much, and we are very proud of you and we are so happy you came into our lives, and I promise that is not a lie” you stand up with her and give her a big hug before going to shower, you almost hated the way she knew what you were thinking, almost always. While you were showering no one came into the shower, which you thought was weird, until you walked out of the showers and saw everyone standing there huddled around Katie.

Katie noticed you were standing there. “You ready to talk?” you nodded slinkishly, “come here” she sat down and gestured for you to sit down on her lap, you willingly went over, and sat on her lap. Caitlin sat next to the both of you.

“What’s wrong?” Katie asked you “I’m not good enough”

“Why do you think that?” Caitlin queried.

“We lost the final because of me. And now we lost because I couldn't shoot,” you took a deep breath and paused for a moment “Maybe i shouldn't have become a footballer” you sad before a small sob left your body.

“Hey, we came second because of you, we wouldn’t have been in that match if it wasn’t for you. It doesn’t matter what they say, if you weren’t on our team we wouldn’t have been in that match.” Steph told you.

“You know, you are amazing kid, it’s okay to have off days, off weeks and off months, its okay, and it’s not fair for anyone but especially yourself to blame losses on yourself, its a team sport, we win as a team and we lose as a team” Leah told you and you just nodded your head, the whole team reassured you that you were still good and an excellent player even though you were having some off days, you had calmed down but the team stayed where they were for a little longer, to show you that they were there for you.

The team went off to shower eventually, but Katie did not, you just stayed sitting in her lap, soaking up her warm embrace. “What if we invited some of the girls over for a movie night tonight, would you like that? They could even sleep over.” You nodded your head.

That evening you found yourself surrounded by your teams as you watched a movie, they all really cared about you and supported you, so you made yourself a promise that you would start to try and open up to them more.

#woso community #woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal wfc #awfc #awfc x reader #awfc imagine

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15minlatewithbatbucks · 11 months

Text

It's forty minutes into the latest state of the company press conference and Bruce has had to mute his mic entirely to avoid being turned into a meme AGAIN for sighing too much at his own event. For all that he's spent almost 20 years coaching his own children on not making scenes, he's really not much better. It's hot and he doesn't want to be here. His ribs hurt. He's tired. He's hungry. He's every excuse Dick or Jason have trotted out over the years.

(Tim understands company manners and can almost always be trusted to stick it out as long as he's allowed to vent his frustrations afterwards. He's recently taken to smashing ugly thrifted dishes. Stephanie and Damian have been collecting any ceramic not entirely pulverized and turning them into pavers for Alfred's garden.)

(Bruce gave up after Tim. He really only needs one kid to tag along to social events. If the kid start to outnumber him they start getting IDEAS.)

His distraction is why it takes two very rude repetitions of his name for him to take notice at the young reporter pushing his way to the front. Lucius stands, cutting off the project manager currently presenting and speaks into the mic.

"Please keep hold all questions until the end of the presentation, thank you."

"Mr. Wayne," the reporter tries again and Bruce waves away Lucius's further protests.

"Can I help you?" He asks, smiling with the full force of Brucie Wayne's charm behind it. It's been awhile since his last scandal, but if the press is inventing drama then it's less work for him.

The man holds up a photograph almost accusingly. He reeks of gotcha journalism.

Bruce squints towards him, unable to fully make out the contents of the photo. Dick may have been right when he gently suggested Bruce add glasses to his Brucie Wayne persona but that was a hill Bruce was still willing to die on. It was bad enough he had to have a prescription COWL.

"What do you have to say about the presence of your adopted son, Timothy Drake at the illegal mob in Robinson Park last Saturday?"

"Drake-Wayne," Bruce corrected because Tim hyphenated, damn it. He was the first of his children to let Bruce tag the Wayne name on and it mattered, damn it. "Wait do you mean-"

"How about reports of him kissing a man while there?"

"A blond man?" Bruce asked, finally giving up and crossing to take the photo for himself. "Oh. No, that's his boyfriend."

There was a beat of silence before Bruce realized his mistake. Just as the reporters began to squall, he dropped the blurry photo and began to speed walk off, phone suddenly in hand.

Through the podium's microphone, the gathered reporters heard one thing as Bruce evacuated the immediate vicinity.

"Tim? Don't be mad."

---

Despite Bruce's best efforts, he becomes a meme.

---

Immediately following the bombshell that Timothy Drake-Wayne had a boyfriend, social media blows up, clamoring for more information. They're ravenous for it, desperate. Tim doesn't have a personal social media presence but they stalk his professional accounts religiously. Bruce does have personal social media, but he maintains radio silence.

In the end, a Gotham based "influencer" stumbles across Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne getting donuts at Kosher Donuts and Co. Dick is personable, as always, and stops to speak with the young woman briefly.

"Yeah, Tim wasn't mad," he laughs when asked. "Just disappointed. But man, he knows how to milk it."

"Bruce is in the doghouse, huh?" she asks, full of false sympathy.

"A little bit," Dick says as Damian mumbles, "Titus would never share."

"But," Dick continued. "Tim's spun it so Bruce is on the hook for like, half a million in donations for local LGBT charities. Tim says it would hurt less if he sponsored a new shelter too, so that's something to look forward to."

"That's a lot of money! Where's it all going?"

"Oh you know," Dick says and gestures vaguely. "A lot of different programs."

"Yeah? Anything you personally want to see done with the funding?"

"Drag story time," Damian answers before Dick can. He looks intense. "But not for children. For dogs. In the shelter."

---

A day later, Tim breaks the silence. He goes live on Bruce's Instagram.

"So the problem was that Bruce thought the reporter was saying I was being unfaithful," Tim explains. "He totally forgot I wasn't out to everyone yet. Bruce was just worried because he's already told me if I break up with my boyfriend, he's not uninviting him from any future family events."

"Luckily, I was in fact just kissing my boyfriend at PRIDE. Just because people got shifty with the permits at the last second because of protestors doesn't make it an illegal mob. If you wanna hear about Wayne's and illegal mobs, talk to Dickie about his younger years. Nothing I do can compare."

#tim drake #bruce wayne #dick grayson #batfamily #dc pride #happy pride #timbern #wrote this on my phone so good luck with grammar or spelling #my writing tag

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moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

If it interests you, could you maybe do poly!marauders smut surrounding how they would react when reader gives one of the boys a blowjob? If this isn’t comfy for you I apologize immensely. I double checked your rules so hopefully I didn’t overstep or anything. Love your work! Also my middle name is Mae:)))

Honestly babe when I read this I didn’t know if I was comfy with it either (not because of you, just because I didn’t know if I’d be able to write it) but I decided to give it a go and somehow it turned into over 2k words? So thanks!

cw: smut mdni, oral (m receiving), praise, this might be horrible? I can't decide if I hate it

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 2.1k words

Sirius’ kisses have turned sloppy, one of his hands wrapped loosely around your neck while the other wiggles its fingers below the waistband of your jeans, taking greedy handfuls of hip. His hard length presses into your thigh through his pants. You tilt your head, slanting your mouth against his so you can kiss him more deeply, and a low groan rumbles through him.

He plants a chaste kiss on your lips before starting to mark a path downwards.

You know where this is going, and you like where this is going, but still a breathless “wait” slips past your lips.

Sirius pauses, his face hovering over your middle. Next to you on the bed, your boyfriends continue making out, but you can see you’ve caught James’ attention. His eyes open to slits, peeking from beneath his lashes to check on you.

“What’s up?” Sirius asks, rubbing your hip. “Don’t feel like it?”

“No, I just…” you rub your lips together nervously, and you see his eyes drop to the motion. Already large pupils growing larger. “I wanted to know if I can ask you something.”

Sirius’ eyes skim over you, a slow perusal that’s probably meant to deduce the cause of your anxiety but only serves to worsen it. “Sure you can,” he says, tone somewhat gentler than usual. “What is it, sweetness?”

“Could you maybe,” you ask hesitantly, wishing you could lean away from him, as if some distance between you would make this any less embarrassing, “teach me to give you a blowjob?”

Sirius’ lips part in surprise. This time it’s Remus who you catch looking over, a second before James breaks their kiss, sitting up over Remus’ torso.

“You wanna learn?” James asks, lips bitten red and swollen.

You glance between him and Sirius, not quite sure who to look at. “Yeah?” you say, hating the way your voice crawls up into a question.

Sirius’ eyebrows twitch together. “You know you don’t have to,” he says, “right?”

“I know.” You give him a little smile. “I’m just curious, I guess.”

“Okay,” he says. His thumb sweeps over your hip like he knows you need the reassurance. “Yeah, we can show you, gorgeous. Wanna do it sitting down?”

You take a breath, nodding before crawling out from under him and kneeling on the floor by the bed. Sirius follows you, sitting on the edge of the mattress and spreading his legs wide. Your brain buzzes in response to the erection you can see bulging through his pants.

You glance towards the other boys. “Are you guys just going to…watch?”

They’ve both been staring at you, but now James grins sheepishly. “If you don’t mind.”

“We can help, if you’re alright with that,” Remus offers. “Give you tips.”

You can feel your face growing warm at the prospect of them being witness to your bumbling first attempt, but you don’t hate the idea of them coaching you through it.

“M’kay,” you say. “Um, what do I do?”

“Try taking it out, sweetheart.” There’s a bit of laughter in Remus’ voice, but his hand is gentle as he reaches over the edge of the bed, brushing your hair behind your ear.

Your eyes flit up to Sirius’ face. He gives you a smile, and you undo his pants, pulling down the waistband of his underwear so that his length springs free. For a few moments you just look at it, wetting your lips before looking to the boys for direction.

“Here.” James gets down on the floor beside you and takes your hand in his, guiding it to Sirius’ shaft. “You’re probably gonna want to start by holding it like this, okay?” He wraps your fingers around the base. “Good. Now be careful to cover your teeth, and just try putting it in your mouth.”

Just? You glance up at Sirius again, and a bit of pride swells in you at the undisguised lust in his expression.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you tell him softly.

“Me neither,” he jokes, reaching down to thumb affectionately at your cheek. “You won’t hurt me, baby. And you can stop anytime you want, you know that. If you don’t like it, just stop.”

You bob your head, wrap your lips around your teeth, and take him into your mouth before you can think too hard about it. His cock feels odd and weighty on your tongue. You lean forward a bit, seeing how far you can go.

“Breathe through your nose,” Remus instructs. “Try sucking on it, whenever you’re ready.”

You let your jaw relax, sucking experimentally, like you might on a popsicle. Sirius moans.

“Just like that,” he says, voice taking on a thick quality. “Fuck, good job, baby.”

Warmth unfurls in your gut at the praise. You suckle a bit longer, getting used to the feel of him in your mouth before you begin moving slowly forward and backward. After a few tries, your lips are making contact with the curled O of your thumb and forefinger each time. Sirius’ cock twitches in your mouth.

“You’ve got it, angel.” James’ big hand roves the curves of your side, his touch steadying your nerves and stirring that heat in your core. “Don’t rush yourself, but if you wanna take him deeper you can take your hand off.”

You do it without little hesitation, high on praise and the rush of what you’ve already accomplished, and ease more of Sirius’ shaft into your mouth. He puts a hand in your hair to help you along, but then all of a sudden it’s too deep, too big, too much. You gag, choking.

Sirius’ hand disappears instantly, but you’re not so ready to give up. Your throat spasms around the intrusion, vision blurring as you try to breathe through your nose.

“Easy,” Remus murmurs.

You finally can’t stand it anymore, pulling away and drawing in a gasping breath.

“Shit,” Sirius says, and you lift your teary eyes to his embarrassedly while James rubs your back. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you manage, swallowing. “Sorry.”

His eyes go soft. “Don’t be sorry, you did great. Do you wanna stop now?”

You shake your head. “I think I just need a second.”

He nods, and there’s a few seconds of quiet, James' hand coasting up and down your spine. “Do you think a demonstration would help?’ he asks.

You swipe under your lashes, looking over at him curiously. “Um, maybe? I’m not sure.”

He exchanges a quick look with Remus before grinning, shuffling closer to where he sits at the edge of the bed and taking off his glasses. “Here. Sirius, talk her through what I’m doing, yeah?”

Sirius seems about as transfixed by what’s about to happen as you are, but he nods. James does as you had, taking Remus’ cock out of his pants, and there’s no need to get it warmed up after the show you’ve been giving them. He feeds it right into his mouth. Remus groans as James takes his entire length expertly, fisting a hand in the other boy’s curly hair.

“Right. Um, see how he’s breathing deep through his nose?” Sirius clears his throat, voice noticeably rough as he watches James’ lips move over Remus’ shaft. “He’s keeping his throat relaxed, not moving back and forth too much.”

You watch as James’ mouth grows wet with spit and slick, his eyes watering a bit as he fights his gag reflex. His throat bobs, and Remus swears, his grip tightening on James’ hair.

“And when he swallows,” Sirius manages, “his throat tightens, which is…uh, nice.”

Remus lets out a breathy, half-delirious laugh at Sirius’ commentary. His cheeks are flushed red from pleasure and the attention, and it’s not long before curses start to spew from his mouth and he goes rigid, cuming down James’ throat. James swallows, grinning up at him. Lips and eyes shiny.

You and Sirius watch them for a few seconds longer, entranced by the sight of your boyfriends.

“Okay.” You clear your throat. “Um, thanks.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Remus says weakly, and you have to swallow a laugh.

You turn to Sirius. “I think I’m ready to try.”

He gestures as if to say Go right ahead, and you take his shaft in your hand, guiding it back into your mouth. Once again, it takes time to adjust to the feeling, but this time when his head hits the back of your throat you’re ready for it. You breathe steadily through your mouth, focussing on staying relaxed as you suck gently.

“There you go, angel,” James praises, putting his glasses back on to watch you. “You’re taking him so well.”

“Fucking yeah she is,” Sirius agrees, voice growing reedy as he starts to pant. You take one of his legs to steady yourself, hand wrapping around a tattoo on his thigh. “Look at me, baby.”

You lift your watery eyes to his, finding the stormcloud gray nearly eclipsed by dark pupil. The raw want in them makes your cunt throb. Sirius must find your face nearly as arousing, because he mutters another quiet, Fuck.

You’re distantly conscious of Remus shuffling back to the edge of the bed, and then he’s laying his head on his arms, gazing down at you. “Look at you, such a quick learner,” he hums. “You’re doing such a good job, sweetheart. Making him feel so good.”

“Look at her eyes,” James says, just loud enough so you can hear. You know they’re aware of what their words are doing to you, of the wetness pooling in your underwear. “She looks so pretty like this, doesn’t she?”

“She does,” Remus agrees. “Our pretty girl.”

You move a bit more surely over Sirius’ length, constricting your throat tentatively. Sirius moans loudly, his hand twitching toward you before he stops it. You take it in yours, setting it on the back of your head so he can guide you the way he wants.

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” he pants, tangling his hand in your hair. “So good f’me.”

You make a small, pleasurable sound, and another moan slips from between his lips, his hand urging you closer. You breathe through it when his cock sponges against the back of your throat, starting to enjoy the odd sensation of your mouth and throat being so deliciously full—and, if you’re being honest with yourself, the feeling of knowing you’re doing well. And if Sirius’ increasingly loud curses and the other boys’ murmured praise are anything to go by, you’re doing rather well.

“God, I wish you could see how you look right now,” James says, voice smooth as velvet as he drops a kiss on your shoulder. “You’re so lovely.”

“Fucking hot, s’what she is,” Sirius insists, brows coming together so urgently you wonder for a second if he’s in pain. “Fuck. Shit, where can I cum?”

You don’t take your mouth off his cock, doing your best to communicate with your eyes. Sirius seems to get the message, his grip on your hair tightening, pulling at your scalp as his thigh tenses under your hand. You swallow hurriedly, and the sounds that leave him will echo in your dreams for the rest of the week, loud, pleady moans interspersed with mangled curses. Your mouth fills with warm wetness, and you ease him out of your throat before swallowing again.

“There we are.” James tugs you gently away when he realizes neither you or Sirius are moving, pulling you half into his lap. “You did it, sweetheart, great job.”

He strokes his thumb under your eyes for you, wiping away the wetness there as Remus watches you move your tongue around in your mouth funnily.

“You alright?” he asks you.

You nod. “Tastes different than I thought it would,” you say.

James laughs, the sound bright and clear. He plants a smacking kiss on your cheek.

“Not bad, I hope,” Sirius says, voice still a bit stringy. He leans back on his elbows, watching you from the bed.

You feel color rise to your cheeks. “No. Not bad.”

His lips quirk up, eyes steady on yours. “That was fucking killer,” he tells you, “especially for your first time. Thanks for that, gorgeous.”

You grin bashfully, dropping your eyes. James clears his throat loudly.

“Right, right, and thank you for the demonstration,” Sirius adds. “Very instructive.”

James beams, but Sirius only pats the bed next to him.

“Why don’t you hop up here so I can give you a real thanks?”

Impossibly, James’ smile widens. He’s quick to obey, Sirius moving to take his place on the floor. Your lips part, and you hear Remus chuckle. You turn to find his amber eyes watching you. They linger on your lips, still glossy and swollen.

“Y’want me to help you out too, sweetheart?” He juts his chin toward the bed, a silent request for you to lie down. “Seems only fair, doesn’t it.”

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imbored1201 · 3 months

Note

Happy new year!

Would you do a barca x teen!reader?

Like they're feeling down/depressed and clingy for a few days because it's someone they cared about death anniversary? (maybe they end up one day just crying and clinging to someone - like alexia or lucy, instead of training?)

That Time Of The Year

A/N: speaking of New Years, hope the New Year started off well for everyone❤️

Barcelona Femeni x Teen Reader

Mostly a Lucy Bronze x Teen Reader

Words: 1,777

Warnings: Talks of drunk driver, talks of dead best friend

You hated January; it was supposed to be a month of excitement for a new year. You couldn't see it that way, though. It was the same month your childhood best friend died.

She was the only one who actually supported you and believed you would make it to your dream team, Barcelona. Now you were, but she didn't get to watch. She went to every game when you played with Man City.

As the new year hit, Alexia noticed how you got clingier. It started with the little things, like you wanting to eat lunch with her or go out to a restaurant together. It was odd since she was the one who always had to drag you to do that with her.

Then you would sneak into her bed to cuddle at night. Sometimes she would wake up to you doing it, and she would just open her arms for you to hold you, or sometimes she would wake up to pressure on her chest, and it was always you.

————

She had questioned you about it, but you just told her nothing was wrong. Which was a lie, and Alexia hated when you lied to her.

"You ready?" She asked after having to force you to get up after you once again snuck into her bed. You always claimed it was harder to get out of her bed since it was way comfier. You nodded, grabbing a banana and walking out the door.

Alexia was able to see that you were about to break; she even texted a lot of the older girls to keep an eye on you before she dropped you off for training.

She's tried to help you, even being straight up with you and telling you she knew you weren't okay. She even made her mom talk to you; you, being stubborn, refused to speak of the situation and even stayed at Lucy's house for a day to get away from Alexia's hassling.

————

She was glad to see Lucy waiting for you as she pulled up, giving you a kiss on the forehead and telling you to be careful, as she always did.

"Let's get to work, kid." Lucy was worried when she got that text from Alexia. She understood why now. You were always energetic during training; now you seem to have no energy at all. Something was wrong.

You made no effort to greet the girls, heading straight to your locker and changing. The girls patted your back as they went out to the field as a sign that they were there for you.

————

Aitana kept sending you perfect through balls during a drill, and you couldn't seem to finish them. It was making you frustrated, as you apologized to her every time.

She waved it off, realizing whatever was happening to you was starting to affect how you played now.

"Y/N, come here." Jonatan called for you, and you sighed in annoyance. You knew he was probably going to tell you off for how bad you were training and probably even bench you. That's what your mind was saying. It was true what they said, your mind was your biggest enemy.

————

He led you to his office. "Look, I know I'm doing horrible, so please don't-" "Y/N, this isn't about training," he said softly. You looked at him, confused.

"This is about your mood recently; there's been a lot of concern about you. Everyone can see something is bothering you, and we just want to help." Now you were extra annoyed.

You didn't need more people meddling in your business. First Alexia, then the feeling of the team walking on eggshells around you. Now even your coach was getting involved.

"Nothing is wrong," you said harshly, immediately regretting that. You cursed yourself for talking to your coach like that. He didn't seem mad, though; in fact, he seemed more worried.

"I can't do this," you told him, rushing out of his office. You were going full speed back to the locker room when you ran straight into Lucy.

"There you are; I was looking for you," she said, holding you by your shoulders to steady you. She frowned seeing your tears. "What happened?"

You tackled her into a hug; you couldn't hold it in anymore. You clinged tightly to her as you sobbed; everything you had been holding in for a week was finally coming out.

"Love, you'll make yourself sick; take deep breaths," you listened to her, trying your best to calm yourself down. Lucy continued to rub your back and whisper soothing words. Even trying to make dad jokes to cheer you up.

————

That's how Jonatan found the two of you. You were in Lucy's lap, sitting and leaning against the wall as she stroked your hair and wiped your tears.

Jonaton's eyes softened as he looked down at you and Lucy. You looked up at him, scared that he was going to tell you off for storming off.

"Take her home; she needs to rest." Lucy nodded and coaxed you to get up. You held onto her tightly as she led you back into the locker room.

"But training," you rubbed your eyes. "Training doesn't matter right now; come on, we'll get ice cream." You smiled a bit at that. Lucy always joked that you would trade her for a scoop of ice cream because of how much you loved it.

————

After getting your ice cream, the both of you sat in Lucy's car in silence. "Want me to take you back home?" She asked, "Can we just sit here for a little more?" She quickly nodded and continued to eat.

After another minute of silence, she spoke up again. "Do you want to talk about it?" You let out a sad sigh. You knew you would have to tell someone eventually. Lucy was the best person to tell because she's known you longer than anyone else. She trained you while you two played in City together that year. Then you moved to Barcelona with her, and Alexia took over the parenting.

"Remember that girl that I would always be walking with after training?" She nodded. "Tiny Blondy." You rolled your eyes at the nickname the team had given her.

"Yes, tiny blondy, we used to watch all the Barcelona games together since we were 7. It was always my dream to play here; you already knew that part, though." She nodded and listened, giving you a supportive smile.

"She was really the only one that supported it; even mom and dad didn't think I'd be able to. Towards the end of the season before I came here, I got the offer, but mom and dad didn't want me to go to Spain by myself. I called her crying, but she was eating dinner with her family, and her mom was very strict on family time, so she was never able to get out of it, but I heard her start an argument over the fact that I really needed her and she had to leave."

"Wait, your parents weren't going to let you come here?" She immediately shut up when she saw the look on your face. "Sorry"

"She didn't listen to her mom's words and came to my house. We talked all night, and we were even going to have a sleepover, but her mom came to our house angry and demanded she go back. My friend listened, and her last words to me were, 'You better go to Barcelona', a drunk driver hit them on their way back home, my friend died, and her mom was in a coma."

"Y/N," Lucy said, leaning over to wipe the tears that were starting to fall out again. "It was my fault, Lucy; if I hadn't overreacted to my parents telling me no to my dream team, I would have probably been able to sign for it when I was actually an adult," you sniffled, hiding your face in your hands.

"It's the main reason my parents even signed those papers for me to play here; they wanted me to get away from everything. Her dad was going crazy, blaming me for everything. He came to my house four times. My dad even fought him once because he had followed me all the way home from practice, saying nasty things to me."

Lucy couldn't hold back anymore either; tears started to fall down her face now. She leaned over and pulled you into a tight hug.

"I got you," she whispered, wiping her own tears. She needed to stay strong for you.

"She didn't get to watch me, Luce; she said she wanted to be the first person to buy my Barcelona jersey; she wasn't able to do that." You cried harder; all Lucy could do was hold you.

"Look at me, kid," she gently grabbed your cheeks. "Nothing is your fault. That man took his grieving out on you, and he shouldn't have. You're a kid; you're allowed to feel disappointed over not being able to play for your dream team; you're allowed to call someone for advice and comfort.

You nodded at her words. "Everything will be okay; nothing was your fault." You wanted to cry more at her words; those words were all you wanted to hear someone say to you.

And the fact that Lucy was saying them made it extra special. You knew Lucy would never lie to you, so if everything was going to be okay, you believed her.

————

Over the next couple of weeks, Alexia got you help. You were seeing someone at least once a week, or if you really needed them. You were also able to go back home for the first time and finally get some alone time at your friend's grave to say your final words.

Her mom was fine, but her parents ended up moving away. There was some relief, but also a guilty feeling in your mind. Relieved that you wouldn't have to be scared about encountering the dad every time you came back home. You felt guilty for feeling that way though. You understood why he blamed you, and you wish you could take it all back. Sometimes you even think about what life would have been like if you had turned down Barcelona's contract and stayed with City without throwing a tantrum.

Maybe in another universe, she would have still been in your City jersey, being the loudest there, and maybe you both could have moved to Barcelona at 18. She wanted to get into sports journalism to follow you, but once again.

Maybe in another universe.

#woso x reader #woso #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas #barcelona femeni x reader #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #woso fanfics

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cupid-styles · 4 months

Note

wait if hockey harry spots yn at his game and is reallyyyy cocky coming up to her! but she’s actually there for another guy on the OTHER team bc he asked her out on a date (which is after the game) and harry becomes sooo jealous and basically tries to rough that guy up during the game so he doesn’t take yn on the date 🤭🤭🤭

I am simply OBSESSED!!!!!! I may also have to do a part two for this lmao

based on this blurb about hockey!harry and ballerina!y/n

word count: 1.3k

content warnings: violence, harry being a mega douche, jealousy

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

Harry's bored.

Usually, at hockey games, he's rarely ever bored. He's been playing the sport since he was three and learned to ice skate just as he started walking. Hockey is his entire life — and yet, Coach Brock took him out to let one of the newbies get some time on the ice, so now he's sitting on the bench like a petulant child, arms crossed over his chest with a frown.

"Lighten up, Styles," Coach Brock had scolded him when he saw the immature pout covering his star player's face.

So now he's waiting, half paying attention to the game in front of him. He'd played hard enough for the first period that he blocked nearly every shot the opposing team tried to make. He didn't care much to see how the freshman kid was playing — he didn't even care to learn his name, really — instead scoping out the crowded stands at the evening's game. It was filled with students and fans of the university, the energy so lively that it was almost enough to send Harry into another adrenaline rush.

Only, when he sees Y/N up in the seats, talking to a girl he's seen her walk around campus with, his heart feels like it skips a beat.

He'll never admit it to anyone (especially not her), but he's fascinated by her. He thinks she's pretty and talented, strong and funny. But Harry lacks emotional communication skills, so instead of attempting to woo her, every comment that comes out of his mouth is an insult. That's why his throat instantly gets dry the second his eyes zero in on her. It's the first time he's seen her out of her usual ballet garb, instead opting for a loose sweater. Her hair, which is always in a neat bun, is down. And she just looks so pretty.

The loud halftime buzzer sounds out, ripping Harry from his daydreams. He can't help but wonder if she could maybe, just maybe, be there to see him. The thought is enough to send butterflies rifling through his stomach. He attempts to ignore them, though, putting on his usual dull facial expression as his teammates get up to go to the locker room.

He scrambles, realizing he's getting left in the dust all because he was fantasizing about Y/N. Embarrassed, he stands from the bench, trying to quickly catch up.

Except, when he's passing the away team's locker room, he sees her in his peripheral vision, walking down the lengthy hallway with a giddy look on her face. He knows Coach Brock will have his ass if he's late, but he can't help it. He really, seriously can't help it.

"Come to see me, Cinderella?" Harry asks cockily, a smirk at the edge of his lips. Her eyebrows immediately furrow and her lips part.

"No," she says slowly, cocking her head to the side, "I'm actually here for Malcolm."

Harry squints his eyes, mentally running through the entire team. There wasn't a single person named Malcolm.

"Did you just make that up to fuck with me?" he questions, feeling irritated by her teasing.

Y/N snorts, a smug grin appearing on her face. "No, actually. Malcolm plays for the other team."

His hands immediately ball up into fists at his side, anger beginning to pulse through his chest. He wants to fire a million questions at her — most importantly, why? — when Coach Brock sticks his head out into the hall.

"Styles! Stop trying to get your dick wet and get in here!"

His face warms, his jaw clenched as he turns on his heel to enter the locker room.

On his way in, he hears Y/N's voice bounce through the interior.

"Oh, don't you worry, Coach! He doesn't stand a chance!"

. . .

Approximately two seconds after halftime ends, Harry finds Malcom's jersey number, his eyes glued in on the player on the opposing team as he skated around, missing shots left and right. He was a shit player — why the hell would Y/N be interested in him?

As a punishment for being late to the halftime meeting, Coach kept Harry out for the first five minutes of the third period. When he realized the newbie was letting the game get away from them, they both knew he had no choice but to allow him back in.

So now Harry's attempting to take out his anger on every shot that's catapulted in his direction, expertly blocking the puck time and time again. His heart is thrumming steadily in his chest, he's sweating beneath his gear, but he's zeroed in — not just on the game, but on Malcolm, too.

Harry's waiting. Desperately so. All but begging him to do something so he has an excuse to launch his stupid body through the rink, landing punches to his face so he never has a chance with Y/N ever again.

With seven minutes left of the game, Harry's team is already up by 10. There's no way they're losing this one, especially with the way he's playing. But that's not the goal here.

Malcolm attempts to shoot another shot into their net, which Harry blocks easily, using his stick to send it skidding down the length of the ice. He can tell he's feeling defeated by the way his shoulders deflate slightly, and it makes Harry laugh behind his mask.

And apparently, that's what does it.

Just as he was about to skate away, Malcolm turns to look back at Harry, despite the game continuing on the other side of the rink.

"Something funny?" Malcolm asks, skating closer to his goal.

"Fuck off," Harry spits, slamming his stick down against the ice. "Think you have a game to lose, asshole."

"Is there a problem?" he snaps, inching closer to Harry. He cackles, letting his hockey stick smack down again.

"You're my fuckin' problem." Harry replies. "Get any closer to my goal and I'll kill you."

Malcolm lets out an amused snort, dropping his stick. It's only a moment before he extends his arms in front of him, pushing Harry harshly. Bingo.

He allows him to think he has the upper hand before he lets his own stick to fall, snapping his hand back and allowing it to collide directly with his jaw. A shocked sound falls from Malcolm's lips as he attempts to keep up with Harry's punches, but he falls back against the ice before he's able to get a single shot in. His vision is entirely red as he lands one final blow, feeling two pairs of arms pull him off. He hears loud, high-pitched noises from the refs' whistles, but all Harry can focus on is wanting to see the damage he's caused.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Coach Brock hisses into his ear. He realizes he's one of the people that stopped him, his hand locked roughly around his wrist as he guides him off the ice. The other hand belongs to the team captain, Dom.

"He was talking shit," Harry mutters, ripping his arm away from Dom's grasp. He reaches up to tear his helmet and face guard off, throwing them on the ground as Coach pulls him to the locker room.

"I don't give a fuck," he sneers, pushing him down onto the bench. The adrenaline is still pumping through his system, making it seem as though he can feel every single cell thrumming in his body. "You're so fucking suspended it's not even funny, Styles."

Harry grumbles as Coach Brock leaves the locker room, slamming the door in his wake. Wordlessly, Dom follows him. He knows they have a giant mess to clean up because of his actions tonight — both literally and figuratively.

Somehow, it doesn’t matter to him, though — not as long as Y/N doesn’t think he’s an animal now.

#bestie asks #writing #hockey h

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gildedkrone · 7 months

Text

I'm the boy next door, let me come in🔞

Part 2 to this fic

Relationships: Ghost x verse!Male Reader Synopsis: You meet him years later and he still can't forget you. Master List

Simon doesn't text back anymore. You aren't so much surprised as disappointed to know it would end this way. He has a wife to go home to, and your next client wouldn't wait for you to get over the very one-sided heartbreak.

The chat ended on a single message from Simon.

["Take care, luv. Hope this helps you with your dream."]

A transfer of ten thousand pounds into your bank account. You don't want to know how he acquired said information, given he is a military man, you wouldn't put it pass him to have used his clearence to search you up. Would it have killed him to do it in person? No. But anything, is better than nothing from a man you should have never gotten attached to.

It's a bittersweet end and the end of your "relationship" with the man.

---

A cigarette between his lips and his moment of peace was interrupted by his secretary entering his office after two knocks.

"Mr Riley, you have an upcoming meeting at two with the Mr Decartes, should I arrange for him to wait in the conference room?"

He flicks two fingers (yes) and snuffs out the cigarette. The Riley family always had a name in the military business, and the newly retired lieutenant returned home to Manchester to hold the reins to his family empire. Post military life is mundane, he supposed. There's no threat of being knived or shot when out bumbling about the streets of the city and most people give him a wide berth of space, if nothing but fear of his size. The skull mask is gone, replaced by a simple black mask concealing the bottom part of his face.

---

The train to Edinburgh is packed to the brim and per his request, the entire business coach is booked out to give him some semblance of privacy. The online meeting is rotting his brain with the incessant business partners and their multitude of requests. Eventually, the meeting ends not before the train is slowing to stop.

"Dear ladies and gentlemen, due to a railway signalling fault, we are unable to proceed to Edinburgh and the train will be stopping at Carlisle. Please speak to a train attendant if you have questions about transfers and continuing your journey."

Fuckin' hell and now even the train is conspiring against him. The attendant is apologetic and informs him of his choices. Return to Manchester on the train in three hours or wait for an unspecified time for the next train to Edinburgh. Either way, he isn't reaching his destination within the same day.

---

He has hours to burn, and he begins with getting coffee. Carlisle isn't a big city and he spends some time walking about the place and looking at things. Whatever British people did for fun. His mindless walk brings him to a flower shop and before his mind could object, he was pushing past the doors and the sweet chime into the cool and empty shop. There is nobody at the counter and he rings the bell.

"Coming!"

Sounds of shuffling as a man returns from the rear of the shop and you stop behind the counter.

"Hey, is there anything I can do for you?" You flash him a smile and he is taken back by the sight. It's the man he's had a fling with five years ago but there is no recognition in your eyes. Was it the mask?

"I'm looking for something for a business deal."

"Oh, do you know what arrangement you would like?" He looks confused and you continue. "We can make it in different sizes and shapes if you have any in mind?"

"Not really. Do you have pictures?"

"Sure do." You grab the folder of pictures and flipped to the business section. When you looked up, the man has an unfathomable look on his face. He takes his time reviewing through the photos and asks several questions about the shop. How did it come to be etc. You tell him about the ten thousand dollars a man left for you once and he knows, confirms it is you.

"So I moved from London up north here to settle down and open my shop. Business is doing well and I've just received a giant order for a wedding. Might need to hire some people to help me out there."

He doesn't know what his traitorous mind was on when he mouth blurts out how willing he is to help. He is dressed in some formal attire and clearly not a contract worker but he is insistent, so you relent and tell him to meet you after dinner. Especially knowing how difficult and costly it is to hire rush work.

---

Edinburgh is the last thing on his mind when he shows up to your shop at eight in the evening. He opted for a large hoodie and some sweats and you usher him into the back of the store where the greenhouse is. His mask is still on and the hoodie is drawn over his head and you crack a joke about dressing correctly since it's cold in the greenhouse.

You make the first of many bouqets and he examines the shape and quantity of flowers in it. The silence is amiable and the man is a fast worker. Precise and controlled, his first bouqet is beautiful and well made. You disappeared into greenhouse to get more flowers and he follows you back in. Midway through the gathering of some flowers and he speaks.

"You don't remember me."

You give him a puzzled look and set the flowers back down. Did you know him?

He sighs and pulls back his hoodie and removes the mask on his face. It's him. It's Simon.

---

"What are you doing here, Simon?"

He sips his coffee and the both of you are seated behind the counter.

"The train broke down and 'm was exploring the city. Stumbled upon your shop and …"

"Are you no longer in the military?"

"Left the job. Had to go home and run the business."

He is still an absolute looker even five years later and his fingers gently brush against yours where it stays.

"Simon, your wife--"

"We're divorced. She's no longer my wife." He elaborates something along the lines of a falling out between the two families over business.

"Oh."

His hands are rough and calloused, and they hold yours.

"It wasn't a possibility then, but … I--"

"Simon, we can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Did you really love me? We had a fling, not a real relationship. I am past the age of flings and I want a real relationship."

"I can give yer that. Only if you would let me."

"Si--" And the rest of the sentence was stolen by his lips against yours. He is insistent and all of the walls you imagined comes crashing down at the taste of him and the hand on your thigh.

"Luv, fuck, missed yer fuckin' lips." And your moan is breathy as his touch crept up your thighs.

---

You weren't sure how it happened, but the kiss ends with you and him in the greenhouse and his hands in your pants. He is pleasure incarnate and his hands move with an urgency to feel you. They roam across expanses of skin before digging into flesh and unbuttoning your jeans. Your mind is drunk on the pleasure and your dick is aching to be touched, with the way it bobs up and down.

The touches are something clandestine, and you used to be his illicit affairs. Now, you are his partner? Lover? The definition is irrelevant as he turns you around to face him before pushing you into the wall. His dick is freed from his joggers where they tented the garment obscenely and he hands rest at your hips.

"If yer asking how serious I am, 'm fuckin' serious about this." The whispers of past encounters are strong and he gives your dick a few strokes before he hugs you tight and your dick pokes against his ass.

"Fuck, Simon, you sure about this?" His response is a sloppy kiss and a muffled yes.

"Have you done this--"

"Nobody. There's nobody after you." Fuck, if that doesn't send your desires higher to know he saved himself for you all these years.

You finger him gently to loosen his rear and gently slide into him until he is moaning and spasming around your dick. He is impatient and tugs your hand but you refuse to fully bottom out, knowing this is likely foreign to him and unwilling to hurt him. Tight, warm heat hungrily swallows your length and you fight off the urge to slam your hips into him—to show him who controls his pleasure. Gruff and gravelly moans get louder with each thrust and with eyes lidded in pleasure, he takes dick so beautifully and you reward him with kisses and bites to his neck. He chokes at the feeling of skin breaking when you leave a hickey. The sudden imagery of domming him and making him beg to cum is fire in your veins and you slow your thrusts.

"C'mon, fuck, yer heathen, stop teasin'." He gets another kiss and he whines.

The great Simon whining like a pup and trying to get himself off on your dick after years of abstinence is making your head all muddy. His hips squirm and he grumbles when you pull out of him only to turn him around to face the wall. The smack of his hands against the wall is loud when you enter him without warning and he is practically clawing at the walls to remain standing under the onslaught of pleasure.

"Fuck, not gonna last if you keep doin' this," and true to his word, his greedy hole tightens around you as he tipped his head back into a moan. Your hand guides him through his orgasm as the wall is coated with pent up ball batter and you are finishing in him with a whine and whimper.

He felt as divine as ever, even when he is below you and twitching from the aftershocks of an orgasm. Mercifully, he doesn't fight your attempts to clean him up even if a clench of his core meant more of your cum is dripping down his thighs. Your dick jumps at the creamy sight but Simon is fully sated and you are content to wait.

Here in the shop, everything feels right. Hearts aligned in a bow drawn taut towards love are yours and his.

---

"Simon, the dog is fighting the mailman again."

"Fuckin', luvvie, its your decision to get a dog."

"You didn't say no when we were at the shelter."

He groans when you shift on his lap while keeping him warm and cozy as the dick in your ass pokes against your prostate. Pre spills from your dick and he swipes a finger through the milky substance for a taste.

"This is, all your damn fault," you choke out between pants when his dick juts into further into you.

"Can't blame a man for wantin' more, sweetheart. Now sing for me," and those hips are determined to be the death of you. Ah, the joy of pleasure and to die from it, you think you could die happy in the lap of your man.

Raspy growls and a man possessed to chase and seek pleasure after years of draught is a dangerous combination. Your head rests against his shoulder amdist thrusts jostling your body.

"Fuck it, he can deal with that damned dog while I make you cum, darling."

#fanfic #cod mw2 #male reader #x male reader #x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x male reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x male reader #cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley x male reader #ghost fanfiction #cod x male reader

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neosvcr · 5 months

Text

a drabble that's been buried in my drafts for way too long

'oh princess, i know.' sungchan coos sweetly in your ear, his fingers stroking your hair leaving a trail of gentleness in their wake as he coached you through your second orgasm of the night while keeping your thighs spread apart for seunghan's fingers. your back was against his chest, the tenderness of his touch and his words contrasted with the lewdness of seunghan's fingers scissoring in and out of your sopping cunt and the squelching, a lewd reflection of just how ready you were from the both of them.

the sounds of your moans got increasingly louder as time went on, resulting in sungchan sliding his fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. both men marvelled at the way you whined and drooled around his digits. how cute.

'isn't our girl just so pretty, sungchan?' seunghan questions, only getting a simple nod from the other who was now evidently losing whatever was left of his self control. they both found you so adorable like this, when you reacted so well to them.

"are we teasing you too much, princess? want us to fuck you now?" seunghan asks before pulling his cum covered fingers out of you with a filthy squelch and rubbing on your clit. "you gonna take it for us? yeah?" both of them chuckled when you nodded in response to them, cooing softly at how adorable you were. "pretty baby said she'll take it.." sungchan whispered, as he positioned himself between your thighs.

"can he put it in, pretty?" seunghan asks sweetly, pressing a kiss against your forehead while sungchan drags his cockhead up and down your sensitive folds. "gonna let us both fuck you? d'you want that?" he continues as he brushes strands of your hair out of your face, his heart melting at the way your eyes glisten with tears of desperation. "y- yeah!" you whimper out.

"eyes on me." seunghan demands as sungchan sinks his girthy cock between your folds, a guttural groan escaping his lips at the feeling of your warmth surrounding him. he swears he almost came on the spot when he bottomed out, your thighs trembling and your little mewls sounding through the room.

the feeling of him stretching you out had your mind going blank, whimpers of 'too big' leaving your plush lips. "t-too big," sungchan mocks with a shit eating grin adorning his beautiful features. "yeah? but will you be a good girl for us and take everything we give you, right?"

he was dicking you down so good, you couldn't help but get louder and louder. "shut the fuck up," sungchan warns before covering your mouth and slowing down, "if our baby can't be quiet we're going to have to stop. we don't want anyone else to here how much of a slut you are, do we?" he says through heavy breaths, "or do you want them to hear? you want them to hear how you're a desperate slut who needs two cocks inside her?" a devilish smirk was plastered on his face as he punctuates these sentences with particularly hard thrusts.

"there's our girl.. there she is.." seunghan whispers as fat tears spill down your cheek. "you're so whiny, doll. you're so, so loud." he coos mockingly, pressing a soft kiss on your lips. "need my cock in your mouth, darling? will that shut you up?" he smirked, stroking your cheek lovingly. and before you knew it he was tapping his thick cock on your velvety lips. "you ready angel?" he whispered, before pushing his length into your mouth. he sighed shakily, his bottom lip trapped between his cheek. lost in the feeling of your mouth around him, he begins sloppily thrusting. the expressions that were painted on the faces of both sungchan and seunghan drove you insane, alongside the noises they were making.

both men were using you as though you were a life sized pocket pussy. their hisses of fucks and shits through gritted teeth, driving you absolutely insane. all of you were so dumb and fucked out, drunk on each other. their thrusts getting sloppier as they continued fucking you. "so fucking filthy," one of them said, but you were so gone at that point that you couldn't tell which one it was.

"fuck princess im gonna fuckin cum," sungchan groans in your ear, his grip on your thighs getting stronger before he pulls out, jerking himself off as his cum lands on your puffy folds. he taps his tip on your clit, smirking at the way you begin squirming underneath them. seunghan groans as he grips your hair, your whimpers sending vibrations up his cock. "fuckfuckfuck- angel. you're doing so good for us." he groaned out, his voice strangled. it wasn't long until he shot his cum into your mouth, his hips bucking deeper into your mouth.

they were far from done with you.

#riize smut #sungchan smut #seunghan smut

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x0xomady · 2 months

Text

touchdown - pt. 2*

⭒⭒⭒

⭒ Football!Harry / Coaches daughter!reader ⭒ frat boy harry ⭒ shy reader ⭒

warnings: smut, 18+, cursing, unprotected sex, name calling.

summary: after two years of being together, and harry being the varsity quarterback, the nfl drafts are approaching. when harry gets stressed out y/n is there to help him.

if u like my writing go check out my story on wattpad !! ⭒⭒⭒

harry has been the number one quarterback in his division for the last two years in a row. that means he has the chance of being drafted into the nfl this year. he was finally getting the chance to achieve his life goal.

the upside to this was he was doing it with his favorite person, y/n. after that night at the party two years ago, they went out on a couple dates and fell in love. ever since then, y/n has been harry’s rock when it comes to stressful situations.

y/n knew harry was going through a stressful time. she was able to see it in his behavior shift. it started with him not wanting to go to parties, then him barely talking. they were sitting together in their living room eating dinner and he hadn’t said more than a word.

every time y/n asked him a question or told him something he would just nod or hum. she understood that he was going through a hard time, but it worried her.

harry was usually the most attentive and reliable person to talk to. so, this behavior was weird for him.

“are you okay h?” y/n looked at him. he wasn’t even watching the tv, he was completely zoned out. “harry?”

“mhm” he didn’t say anything but that in response. the worst part about this little haze of harry’s was that they hadn’t slept together in over a week.

they had an extremely active sex life usually so this was weird for both of them. that’s when y/n got an idea. she grabbed the plate in harry’s lap and put it on the coffee table. he looked up at her confused.

she just smiled and straddled him. “i know your stressed baby,” she ran her fingers through harry’s thick curls “i want you to take it out on me.”

“mm want to be my little fuck toy angel?” he smiled and kissed her along the neck.

“yes please.” she kissed harry hard and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. he moaned out as she pressed her hips down on his, he needed this. with so much pent up anxiety and stress, he felt like was going to explode.

“gonna let me use you baby?” he picked her up laid her down on the couch on her back. “so dirty asking me to fuck you like a whore.”

y/n whimpered as he roughly pulled down her shorts. he left no time for sweetness or gentleness. everything was rough and quick. within no time he had them both naked and was attacking her lips again.

“bet your little cunt is already sopping wet.” he teased her and brought his two fingers to drag up her hole. “look at that my little toy is dripping for me.” he mocked her and harshly shoved his finger in.

“please h need your cock so bad.” she moaned out as he thrust his index finger in and out of her cunt. y/n has been waiting for this for over a week. she had been pent up and horny for the first time since her and harry started dating.

“aw look at that so needy for me.” he smirked and pulled his fingers out. “suck em clean for me angel”

y/n was quick to oblige she wrapped her lips around his fingers hastily while he groaned at the sight. she really was everything harry ever wanted. harry was already completely hard and dripping pre-cum, seeing his girl sopping wet like that did something to him.

“gonna fuck your little hole baby.” he grabbed her hips and pushed the tip in. no matter how many times they fuck, it’s always a tight squeeze considering how much bigger harry is. y/n was only 5’4 and harry was 6’2. this size difference always turned y/n on.

getting tired of his teasing y/n pushed her hips up quickly to try and speed him up. “no do that again and i’m not fucking you.” harry grabbed her hips and pushed them against the couch harshly. “want to go fast angel?” she whimpered and nodded at him.

“anything for you.” he smirked and snapped his hips up quickly. he hastily thrust in to her wet cunt. harry wrapped his big hands around throat and squeezed gently. y/n moaned out in delight and was clenching around his thick cock hard.

“so fucking good baby.” his face twisted in ecstasy as he thrust harder into her. harry moaned out finally bottoming out and pushing his hips against hers. y/n was obsessed with the way he looked. his sweaty chest looked like it was crafted by an angel. his thick curls were bouncing as he moved his hips against her.

harry had never been more grateful for his girlfriend. the stress of everything really had been taking a toll on him so this relief was welcomed. he loved watching the way her face contorted and the way her mouth dropped open in pleasure. he was obsessed with the way her tits were bouncing as he fucked her harshly.

“want to make you come first angel.” he moaned and pulled out quickly. y/n whined out a complaint. without his cock she felt empty. “stop being greedy.” he gave her ass a slap before leaning down and sucking her clit.

y/n reached forward and held his brown curls tightly. he could do wonders with his mouth. the way his soft lips held her bundle of nerves felt like pure bliss. he smirked at her reaction and brought his tongue to her hole. y/n absolutely loved it when he fucked her with his tongue. it was a feeling like none other. he was just so good with it.

“please harry need to come.” she ruts her hips against his face. his tongue on her hole and the way his nose was stimulating her clit was going to have her come faster than she expected.

“yeah baby come on my tongue then i’ll fuck you.” he smirked and continued the assault with his lips. harry loved eating her out much more than he should. maybe it was an oral fixation but he just loved to make his favorite girl feel good.

y/n could feel the bubble of pressure expanding. she needed this release so badly and harry was doing everything he could to give it to her. “fuck harry gonna come!” she whimpered out and held harry’s face close to her cunt as she came. harry absolutely loved it. he was entranced by her and couldn’t look away as she came on him.

as soon as y/n came down from her blissful high harry was on her again. he needed the release just as badly as she did. he wasted no time in thrusting his cock into her roughly. her sopping wet walls gave him no resistance as he fucked her harshly.

“such a perfect little cockslut for me angel.” harry groaned out continuing to snap his hips against hers. he had completely forgotten about all the other stressful things going on in his life. y/n was the only thing on his mind and he loved it.

it wasn’t long before harry could feel himself reaching the high he was so desperately chasing. “come with me baby.” he moaned out while pressing his thumb to her clit.

they both laid down on the couch panting and catching their breaths after the fuck. harry has never been more in love. her pretty little breaths and sighs of ecstasy brought a bright smile to his face.

neither of them said anything until harry’s phone rang. they both sat up and looked at each other in a panic. was this the phone call? if it was harry would finally know if her would reach his life goal.

he watched it ring for a second before hesitantly picking it up. harry has never been more anxious in his life. everything he had worked for in his life depended on this one call. y/n nodded at him with a smile and held his head tightly. she was just as anxious.

“hello, this is harry styles.” he said into the phone trying not to show his nervousness.

“hello harry! we are excited to inform you that you have been drafted onto the Green Bay Packers. More information will be sent to you soon. Congratulations.” and with that the phone call ended.

harry couldn’t believe it. he looked at y/n with a smile who was looking at him with a panicked expression.

“i think i’m ready to go again."

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thank you guys for the love on pt.1 !! i just wrote this for fun so the amount of attention it got was amazing. hope you love pt.2 !!

#harry styles #harry styles smut #one direction #dom harry styles #sub!harry #wattpad #harry edward styles #smut #fanfiction #x0xomady

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number1jeonginstan · 4 months

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hiii love love love your work !! i recently had a dream about chan as a p.e teacher and it was so heartwarming seeing him interact with the students but i CANNOT stop thinking abt how good he looked in the lowcut shirt he was wearing that exposed his collarbones djsifnwjdkw anyway i wanted to request a gym teacher!chan x english teacher!afab reader smut where the reader is helping chan put away equipment during lunch but they get a bit distracted in the storage room 👀👀

pairing: teacher! Chan x afab!teacher reader

warnings: swearing, kissing, smut, and some fluff too!

word count: 3.5k (I got a bit carried away...)

18+ Minors DNI

A/N: Sorry this took so long, but I hope it is to your liking! I didn't do it so the kids are at school, because personally, I find that a bit weird, sorry! I write what I feel comfortable, but I try and keep the premise of the story that you asked!! I hope y'all like it because it was fun to write and I got a bit carried away when it came to the smut. (heheheheh) I hope y'all enjoy!!!

smut warnings: unprotected sex, daddy kink, technically public sex (but like, there is no one else at school...), creampie

It was your first day of your new job, your nerves going through the roof and the cup of coffee in your hands was not helping. It wasn’t like you didn’t know how to teach, you were doing private tutoring for years while in college for high schooler’s essays and did the whole student-teacher thing to get your degree, but this was the first time you were teaching by yourself.

You were getting paid way more than other teachers to teach 3rd grade in a rural town in the middle of nowhere. Everyone here was rich, like wearing Louis Vitton bags to hold their dogs rich. While driving to school, the plethora of porches and teslas didn’t surprise you. Being in such a small town where everyone knew each other, you were terrified of messing up.

Sure working with teens would have been more intimidating, but working with a bunch of 8-year-olds olds, now that’s scary. What if they didn’t like you, teased you, and didn’t think you were funny enough? Before you ended up in more of a whirlwind spiral, you crashed into something. You could feel something cold hitting the back of your hand as coffee spilled all over what was in front of you.

You look up to see a man with curly hair and wearing a matching tracksuit, the thing you must have hit was his whistle. Before he could even react, you started profusely apologizing.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, let me wash this for you. I can’t believe I did something so stupid, your suit looks nice too, I can’t believe I ruined it” You continued your word vomit only to be interjected by the man’s voice in front of you.

“Don’t worry about it, accidents happen, I can just take my jacket off” he simply unzipped his jacket and shrugged it off, allowing the tanktop he was wearing underneath to show off his defined muscles. “See, no harm done” he grinned, his smile toothy causing a slight blush to appear upon your cheeks.

“Again, I sincerely apologize, I had no idea you were there” you continued on, too afraid to look him in the face as you apologized.

“It’s okay,” he said, placing his hand on your shoulder, “now breathe with me” he lifted a hand, inhaling loudly, causing you to follow suit. You both exhaled at the same time, a slight chuckle leaving his lips as you did.

“I get it, first-day, you will be fine, I believe in you” he grinned. “Thank you” you gleamed back “I’m so sorry, but I didn’t get your name?” you asked.

“It’s Coach Bhang, or Chris to the adults” he chuckled. Before you could respond with your name, he interrupted you “You are the new teacher right? Your kids have me right before lunch today”

You looked at him a bit confused, not knowing how he knew who you were already. “The principal told me, I was on the committee to hire you” answering the question that must have been written on your bewildered face.

“Oh, it’s very nice to meet you, Chris, but I truly must get going. I guess I’m going to see you before lunch!” you said, trying to turn around and leave to get to your class on time. He simply nodded, waving you goodbye as you left him there. You looked even better and sweeter in person he thought to himself.

He was so excited to have someone his age around. When the hiring committee asked for his help, knowing that many kids confided in him, he wanted to find someone young. He wanted to make sure the kids got a different perspective, especially growing up with parents who always thought they were doing the “best” for their kids.

He appreciated all of his seniors in his school, knowing that they had been teaching kids for years, some even being his teachers while he grew up. When he saw your resume, your reason for teaching caught his eye before anything else.

“I want to make sure that every kid is comfortable. It isn’t just about teaching them, but making sure they have fun along the ride. Kids are supposed to have fun at a young age and not stress out. I want to make it so they are in an environment where they can confide in me.”

He knew then and there, you were what their school needed. It took a bit of convincing, but he had gotten you to the school, and there you were with your long skirt and sweater covered in apples, glasses laying on the bridge of your nose with a cheesy smile ridden on your face.

He couldn’t have even gotten mad at you when you spilled coffee on him, you were just too sweet, apologizing even with your “first day of school” jitters.

You finally got to your classroom, placing your almost empty cup of coffee onto your desk. You had spent almost a week preparing everything. Your room was filled with color, allowing all your kids to express themselves in their own way.

You had made a reading corner with all your favorite books as a kid surrounded by beanbags, your walls empty and ready for whatever art the kids make. It felt like home. You sighed as you finished taking in your room admiring each crevice before the kids rushed in.

As the kids began to trickle in, you saw the excitement on all of the kid’s faces. Some looked at you a bit confused, others whispering with their friends. They were all so cute, falling into their own cliques and taking a look at the place they were going to spend most of their time.

You even overheard some of the parents talking which intrigued you a bit.

“Did you hear about the new teacher?” one asked while the mother nodded. “Yeah, my son Sohee is in her class, I hope she’s good or else I’m going to take it up with my husband, he is the county’s superintended after all,” she said with a fake laugh.

“I agree, I hope she doesn’t try and steal a man’s husband like the last one. Poor Susan, she was crushed after she found out” she giggled. “I know, I can’t believe that he slept with that skank, hopefully, this one doesn’t try the same innocent act”

“I agree, but do you think Coach Bahng will be coming out today, I don’t see him. He’s the only reason I dropped off Sohee or else I would have gotten his nanny to do it”

“I saw him earlier,” said the woman with blonde hair, Sohee’s mother, “he finally took off that damn jacket, and can I say, I would not be opposed to taking a bite out of him” she chuckled, biting her nail.

“Oh, you are so bad!” the other woman laughed. You quickly walked away before you could overhear any more of their conversation.

Thirty minutes after the first bell rang, all the kids were situated in their seats. You opted to give kids assigned seats to all the kids to help you get and know them better. They were all chatting amongst their selves, reminiscing about where they traveled for summer break, what they did, and who they met.

It was cute seeing them all talk amongst themselves, seated in their tiny desks, giggling away. You decided that it was time to introduce yourself, and try and get on their good side.

“Hi, class!” you said as you walked in front of the classroom, causing them all to direct their attention. “My name is Miss L/N, and I’m your teacher this year” you grinned, trying to see all their reactions.

They all shyly replied with a short and curt “hi”. “I thought, because it’s the first day of school, we can all draw what we did over the summer and what your favorite things are!” you laughed watching all the kids get excited.

They all pulled out their markers, colored pencils, and crayons ready for the paper you were passing out. After another 15 minutes had passed, every kid began sharing. Showing what they did through their pictures, as well as telling stories from their adventures.

As they began to wrap up, one of the kids, who you think was named Lily, asked you what you did. This caused all the kid's attention to get off their friends and onto you.

“Oh I didn’t do much this summer, just prepared to hang out with you guys” you explained causing all the kids to groan.

“That’s boring” one of the kids yelled “Don’t you have a boyfriend or something, all the other teachers are married except Coach Bahng, except my mom said he could have been my dad,” he said out loud, causing all the kids to giggle.

One thing that you forgot about kids was their blunt honesty. “Umm, I don’t have a boyfriend” you replied, trying to change the topic you quickly blurted out “Would you look at the time guys, it’s time to go to P.E”

This diverted all the attention from the boy’s previous question, they waddled out of their seats into a single-formed line, which amazed you. For 8-year-olds, they already knew what they had to do. The line leader was the Sohee, the boy’s mother was the one you overheard in the hall. You chuckled a bit, seeing how eager they were to get to their next class.

As you were walking, you asked Sohee why all the kids were so excited. “It’s because Coach Bahng is sooooooo fun” he exclaimed, jumping up and down. “He loves playing with us, and he always finds games that are fun and not like the old P.E. teacher who made us run all the time in kindergarten”

You simply nodded, bringing them all into the gym, taking attendance, and making sure all 17 of your students were there. That was when you ran into Chris again, he smiled at you, coming over as all the kids went into their respective locker rooms. “So, how are you liking the school so far?” he asked when he was in front of you.

“It’s good so far, everyone was so sweet and we did a kind of show and tell of what they did over the summer with pictures they drew,” you told him. He noticed how expressive your eyes were as you told him what you guys did in your class.

“That’s amazing”

“I know” you replied “I also wanted to apologize about what happened earlier this morning, I would love to make it up to you in some way” you stated, still feeling guilty about the whole coffee fiasco.

“I mean you don’t have to, but I do need to clean the gym’s storage closet, and would really appreciate some help”

“Consider me there!” you giggled, “here, give me your number so I know what time I have to be there” You pulled out your phone quickly, not knowing how long it would be before the kids came out and you did not want to be see with your phone.

“Here you go” he said, returning your phone in your hands “text me first so I get your number, I have to take care of these gremlins now” he chuckled, watching the kids pile out of the locker room.

“So you said you needed some help?” you asked. It was Saturday morning and you were there at 8 am like you promised. The rest of the week had worked out smoothly, other than the day when a kid in your class’s dad asked if you were single, which caused a bit of an uncomfortable situation.

Chan admired you, you were dressed in a long shirt that was falling off one of your shoulders and leggings, your hair a bit messy framing your face. He told you there was going to be some heavy lifting due to the both of you having to clean out the gym’s storage room, and you had dressed for the occasion.

Chan was wearing some basketball shorts and his signature tank top. If anyone could look good in a wife-beater, it would be him. You quickly shooed the thoughts away, not wanting him to catch on. You were doing him a favor for spilling coffee on him, that’s it, but why did he have to look so good?

“Yeah, we just have to take some things out of the storage room and clean it up so I can make sure I have all the supplies for our next lesson. It’s just doing inventory” he said with his signature smile. His eyes curled up as you simply nodded, following him.

You both got into the groove of fixing the closet, he cleaned everything up while you were taking inventory. He brought in another box, and he accidentally kicked in the door stopper, causing the door to shut.

“Oh shit” he exclaimed as he saw what just happened, you looked up to see the door completely closed. “Fuck, how are we supposed to get out” he groaned, rubbing his face in his hands.

“What happened” you asked, walking up to him, still a bit confused about what had happened.

“The door only opens from the outside, which means we are stuck in here for” he checked his phone “another 2 hours til the janitor is going to come in here and take all the trash like I asked him to”

“Why can’t we call someone?” you asked, your face ridden with worry.

“There is no cell service, I told Josh to put a tower in the gym in case this happens, but he didn’t”

“Oh,” you sighed sitting on the floor, patting the spot next to you to sit down. He reluctantly did, both of your backs pressed against the wall.

“What should we do with all this spare time?” you asked, looking at his chiseled face right next to you. The terrible lighting of the storage room didn’t do his features justice.

“Why don’t we get to know each other better?” he asked “I mean you are new here”

“Oh, well, I grew up in a small town. Not like this though, everyone here is filthy rich”

“You can tell me about it, I overheard some mom talk about how she got her husband to pay for a 40k boob job just for finally cleaning her house. I feel like it benefited the husband more than her though”

You laughed at his joke, “I’m 23, and I don’t know what else, there isn’t much interesting about me”

“Well I think that is quite interesting,” he said, looking directly into your eyes. He didn’t know what came over him, but he took your face in his hands, cusping it and placing a kiss directly onto your lips. Before you could even react, he quickly tore off of you.

“Shit, I’m so sor” You kissed him back before he could even finish his apology. You didn’t know how long had passed, but you slowly climbed into his lap, lips still connected.

You didn’t want to pull away from him, his pillow lips. He pulled you down, your clothed cunt rubbing against his already semi-hard erection causing you both to moan. “Am I going too fast, because we can stop?” he asked, removing his lips from yours.

“No, please don’t stop Chan” you whimpered, rutting against his erection a bit harder and faster in pace than before. You were like two teenagers dry humping in the back of a truck “Fuck, you are going to be the death of me”

He trailed his fingers under your shirt, slowly unclasping your bra as he brought his hand over your already-hardened nipple. You whimpered into his neck, as you slowly began to remove his shorts from underneath the two of you.

He picked you both up, allowing his pants to fall down, placing you on the floor, and removing his sleeveless shirt. You looked up at him in awe as you began to remove your leggings that were hugging your legs, tossing them near his shorts.

You moaned at the sight of his happy trail peeking outside of his boxers, as he lifted you up again, your back pressed against the wall.

He ran a finger along your already-soaked panties, groaning at how wet you were. “Fuck baby, so wet for me, can’t wait til you can take my cock”

He removed your panties, the cool air hitting your cunt. He placed a finger near your slit, running it back and forth before placing his finger in your mouth.

“Suck on it like a good girl”

You did as he said, sucking on the fingers that he placed in your mouth, moaning and the feeling of his heavy fingers on your tongue, tasting your essence on his finger.

You sucked on them, looking at him with your doe eyes. “What a good girl, can’t wait for you to suck my cock next time”

Your ears perked at him saying next time, you were glad this wasn’t a one time thing.

He took his fingers out of your mouth, placing it on your clit, rubbing it. “Feel so good” you whispered into his ear.

“Feels good baby? Wait until I put my fingers in you”

He was still holding your body up with just his left arm, while the other one was running up and down your slit.

He slowly inserted a finger into you, thrusting it in and out before adding a second. “Feels so good Daddy” you moaned around his fingers, causing him to go faster.

“Fuck, baby is already babbling on Daddy’s fingers? Wait until she takes Daddy’s cock” he moaned as he began to scissor his fingers in your cunt.

“Baby’s pussy is so tight, don’t think she can even take my cock”

“No, I can, I can take Daddy’s cock” you cried. His fingers felt amazing, but his cock felt huge underneath you, and you needed it inside of you.

You pawed at his boxers, releasing his cock from them. You were right, he was huge. His tip was an angry red, leaking beads of pre-cum. He was thick and long, bigger than average.

No wonder he was trying to prep you, you wouldn’t be able to take him without it.

“Baby’s such a needy whore for Daddy, can’t even wait” he took his fingers out of you, making you whimper at the loss.

He placed them in his own mouth, tasting you on them “But fuck do you taste good”

He began to run his cock along your slit, causing you to moan, your walls already clenching around nothing.

“Wait baby, I don’t have a condom, are you sure?”

“Please Daddy, need your cock in me. I’m clean and on birth control”

“Fuck, my baby wants me to fuck her raw, want me to breed you, give you a kid of your own?”

You just nodded, needing to feel him inside you. “Be good for Daddy and wrap your legs around me”

You did as he asked as he pushed the tip inside your cunt. You were so tight and warm he let out a groan. It took him a while, but he had fully bottomed you out.

“Fuck so good Daddy, you can fuck into me, please fuck me Daddy”

He began to thrust into you, lifting you a bit, your back feeling cool as he pounded you into the wall. The position you were in felt so good, he was hitting that spot inside of you and you didn’t know how long you were going to last.

“Fuck Daddy, so good, your cock is so good”

“Yeah, you like Daddy’s cock in you, fucking into you til you are a babbling mess?”

Your walls clenched around him when he said that. He brought a hand down to your clit, simultaneously playing with it as he pounded into you.

“Fuck, cunt is squeezing me so good, it’s like you were made for me”

“Fuck Daddy, so good feels too good, gonna cum”

“Yeah, gonna be a good whore and cum around my cock, gonna milk me dry like the good slut you are?” He asked, pounding into you.

That was all you needed to cum, your walls pulsing around him as he was close behind, one more thrust and he was filling you up your cunt milking him dry.

“Fuck, that was”

“Amazing?” You asked, as his cock slipped out of you. His cum leaking from your cunt as you began to put your panties on and him his boxers.

“Yeah, spectacular even” he laughed

“Why don’t you let me take you on a date? After we get out of here, I have the perfect place” he grinned, kissing your lips again.

“Yeah, I would like that, as long as the “perfect place” isn’t your bedroom” you giggled putting on your clothes before someone came and opened the storage room for the two of you. Maybe working at a new school wouldn’t be that bad.

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