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#lots of ups and downs but the ups have far surpassed the downs

gorejo · 5 months

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▸ manager in public, creampies in private - gojo satoru (hockey player/fwb!)

synopsis: His jinx — fucking the manager behind his coach’s back before every game — has become a rather risky ritual that he’s secretly developed over the years. With you, a regular pattern of his life, Satoru proposes a deal before his final game — the last time he’ll confess, “you wanna fuck me or do wanna date me?”

contents: wc: 15.2k(i am so sorry y'all.... i have no words for this), unedited. fem/afab!reader, she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as "girlfriend," pet names: baby, pretty, (there are so many), satoru calls himself daddy as a joke, locker room sex, fwb!, explicit language, p -> v penetration, creampies, lots of fucking. suguru moved to another uni. cunnilingus, squirting, fingering, teasing, mating press, doggy, gojo can carry the reader because he’s strong like that. little bit of Satoru’s pov..

The stadium is cold the moment you walk in. It’s enough to make your cheeks mildly sting and send shivers down your back, leaving the tip of your nose to feel frozen. From the crisp smell of the rink that’s been brushed out just moments prior, to the vibrant conversations of adults and the cheers from children anticipating the next game, everything tugged for your attention.

At the apex of winter sports, today will mark the champions for the national collegiate tournament for Division I Hockey.

For the normal attendee or avid fan of the sport, being there should be exciting.

But it couldn’t be far more inapplicable for you. A nervous pit coiled inside your gut — a dichotomous force of friction that made your heart thump in anticipation, but your stomach churn in anxiety.

Your mind felt like a fuzz. Guess, it didn't help that your ears also felt plugged, with every sound muffling inside that annoyingly distorted your rational thought — or whatever was left of it.

Stumbling onto the bleachers with your cheeks feeling hot despite the chill that surpassed your skin, your legs felt wobbly while walking over to your designated seat as the beloved team manager; like a broken record, your mind replayed a moment you had not less than an hour prior.

“Control him from doing anything irrational off the courts. That’s your only job today.” the head coach warned before making his way out of the locker room, his thick calloused hand placed on your shoulder, his firm grip a forewarning to not disappoint him.

“Whatever he chooses to do on it, he can go crazy all he wants as long as he brings home the trophy. I don’t care,” Yaga Sensei muttered, lowly chuckling as he hitched up his glasses, “you’re good at your job, make the last one count,” he firmly stated before closing the door behind you.

Of course, that was your job and in no way were you going to fuck things up. Every game was the same: regulate your star player, do damage control for his unhinged actions, and babysit him – the prodigy for the University of Tokyo, from doing anything negative that the press could get their hands on.

Or in simpler terms: control your fuck buddy and do whatever it takes for him to not be so unfiltered — keyword: whatever.

You recalled the week prior, cringing at the aftermath of his actions, with you sowing the repercussions of damaging your almost perfect reputable reputation — a total disaster of an interview, the distress to your migraines you had every game day thereafter from both him and Yaga-sensei.

Granted, conducting an interview post-game wasn’t fun for anyone especially when it was painfully knowing that the reporters were only interested in trying to leach out any information to make a viral post of the handsome center.

His articles sold, and any gossip obtained was always a hit.

His last article went viral — a hot topic of gossip in all outlets of social media, trending not only in Japan but in other countries as the hot man that kicked a reporter, Gojo Satoru, University of Tokyo’s center, and the most infamous, Gojo’s girlfriend. It was of a photo of Satoru midshot, kicking a reporter with his long legs easily reaching to their face with a cheeky smile while his hands were haughtily in his pants with a blurred figure hiding behind his back, nimble fingers grabbing hold of Satoru’s clothes.

Surely, pretty privilege very much exists when more than half of the comments of netizens were:

omg look at his legs! He’s so pretty! That reporter deserved it.

damn, wish I looked that good kicking someone.

He makes me question my sexuality. What a beautiful man.

Definition of looks like a cinnamon roll, but would kill you.

Don’t worry y’all! That’s me behind him! I’m the girlfriend 😘

SATORU HAS A GIRLFRIEND? I’M SICKKKKKKK

Is it weird to find this hot? I don't condone violence but if it’s Satoru…

“So Gojo-san, what do you foresee as your next plan to defeat your rival player next week? Can we expect some friendly competition?” The reporter asked, intently waiting to type up any information Satoru had to give.

Sludging over the microphone, his voice vacant of any enthusiasm, but instead endowed in annoyance, “If he can keep up, then yea. It’s been over a year since we’ve been on the same court, I don’t keep up with his updates but I’m sure he’s been training on his own. He’s good at what he does.” Satoru tiredly sighed, brushing his bangs over his forehead, while lightly clutching onto the mic stand with his other hand, “Next question.”

And of course, the rather infamous question he gets asked every interview.

“Are you currently dating anyone? I’m sure you have loads of people wanting to date you.” Upon hearing the rather obnoxious giggle of the reporter, Satoru’s jaws clenched with irritation. “Any special plans for the New Year with a certain special someone, specifically maybe the one you were pictured with?”

Getting questions about his private life wasn’t out of the norm and was a regular occurrence. Usually, he’ll flirt with the idea and throw a little bait to the reporters, but particularly on this day, it rubbed Satoru the wrong way.

“What a stupid question, don’t you get tired of asking who I’m fucking?” Satoru numbly responded with life drained from his eyes despite the rather harsh clench of his jaws, “Well, if you’re so dying to know, I’m currently getting rejected on the daily by a rather oblivious person.”

“Any hints as to who —”

“Why?" he scoffed with a brow raised, unfazed, "so you can go harass her for information? Next question.”

“Hello, Gojo-San could you explain about the rumors that are going around about your fallout with Kyoto’s new center?” Another reporter quickly rode off the previous questions.

“What rumors?” Satoru furrowed his brows, clicking his tongue against his teeth, briefly glancing at you off to the side. A fair warning that he was getting uncomfortable.

Talking about his ex-best friend was still a sore spot for Satoru, a breakup without proper closure.

It happened without a notice, a fallout that occurred in the middle of the season during Satoru’s sophomore year, and for a year he’s been silent until he’s made his return with the rival school.

Closing his eyes to calm himself down, fisting his hand as he clenched his teeth, Satoru annoyingly answered back, “We just aren’t on the same team anymore, nothing crazy about that. It’s normal in sports.”

“Well, people are wondering if it’s true that he betrayed you to give the game plays away to his current team.” The man responded, his ignorance seemed bliss, but the malice undertone with the slight tilt of his upper lip told otherwise.

“Betrayed?” Satoru scoffed, the air in the conference room immediately felt cold, irked from the reporter’s nonchalance in picking at his ego, “the only thing getting betrayed is you when your wife sucks my co —”

On instinct, you rushed over to cover his mouth — fucking idiot — and quickly stated through the mic with a routined rueful expression you’ve made one too many times — on behalf of this dumbass.

“I’m sorry, but we’ll conclude this interview from here on! I thank you all for coming.”

While leaving, you quickly glanced at Yaga-sensei’s disappointed expression, his jaws clenched as he watched you both hurriedly make your way to the locker room with Satoru trailing behind with your grip over his wrist.

You were one hundred percent going to get an earful from Sensei.

Gojo dumb fucking Satoru always making your life a complete hell; you were determined to chew his ear off.

“Just wait till we get into the lockers, Satoru” you stated through gritted teeth, your grip on his wrists getting firmer with each step.

“Yea? Ooo I like it when you’re rough with me,” he grinned, the utter audacity of him to take you as a joke, “what are you gonna do to me in the locker rooms?” he gasped, his voice innocent — it’s laughable, really — despite his breath close to your ears with his firm chest right behind you, taunting you to continue with your harmless threats.

It’s cute and makes his cock twitch and quickly pool with blood whenever you’re being dominant — at least when you try to.

Opening the door, you snapped at him while taking a step in, “You’re fucking annoying —”

But things always seemed to take a turn to his advantage — always.

The milliseconds leading to the locker rooms were silent — silence breaking the moment you stepped foot into it with Satoru’s lips rammed to yours, his hands hungry for greater access to your body.

You’re completely caught off guard when his lips come crashing onto yours. The slight grunt of his voice mixed with a hint of a whine when he pushed you against the lockers, your hands naturally landing on his firm chest, easily melting into his grip — a sinful vice he’d been swaying over your head like a pendulum for the past years every time you both snuck around to fuck.

“I fucking tried,” he groaned into the kiss while he rapidly unclothed you. The annoyance that he’d felt a couple of minutes prior all dissipated out and funneled to you. It was apparent in the sheer urgency of his hands ripping off your clothes that his patience was running thin.

“Ngh, S-Satoru!” your chest felt heavy, your mind feeling fuzzy when you met his carnal gaze, “we need to talk —” you’re cut short when his lips latch onto your neck, his hot breath lacing up your skin as he pulled your arms upward and caged your wrists with one hand, while the other traveled down your stomach, straight to your heated core.

“Talk about what? How we fuck?” he moaned at the pleasurable feeling of your pussy being wrapped with his favorite cotton panties — the one he jokingly gifted for being his fuck buddy for a year — where soon he’ll be able to play with your cum coated folds while he fucked you against the mirror walls.

“Oh god,” you huffed in the split moment he pulled away to catch his breath when his fingers started stroking up and down your folds, the tips of his middle and ring finger playing with your tight entrance, “Toru, w-we gotta talk, Yaga-sensei —”

Scoffing out a chuckle, he let go of your lips, his teeth pulling against your lower flesh with his voice deep. He peered down at you with his orbs strictly dilated and dark, “Aren’t you cheeky? Trying to get Sensei involved.” His thumb brushed against your lower lip, the throbbing pain of your skin feeling sensitive when his calloused finger presses against it, “but you need me to explain to him how we always fuck behind his back?”

His hand traveled down your throat, his long fingers organically wrapping around your neck, a pleasing accessory around your neck, “I’d like that, too, it’s thrilling isn't it?” he taunted, his breath brushing against your heated cheeks, “but I don't think Sensei will particularly like what I say.”

“Y-your teammates ahh! —” You barely could let out a whine when his lips came crashing again, gasping when you felt the suffocated tension of your bra unclasping, exposing your breasts to the damp, cold air, the buttons of your shirt falling to the floor, “t-they’ll hear!” you tried whispering.

“They aren’t coming,” He growled, “ I locked the door,” his tantalizing voice contrasted with the sharp pain of his teeth biting into your shoulder, a dainty string of spit hung from his lips as he continued to paint your skin with his marks, felt all together euphoric.

“But they're more than welcome to listen, we'll give them the hottest free porn.”

You can feel his hardened bulge being pressed against your hips, it was torturous to not cup your hands over his hefty cock. And he knew. He could sense it, feel in the way you pulled back into the kiss, the wanton sounds of your needy breaths pleasantly luring him to want more of you.

“I need you,” he groaned while releasing your wrists and leading them to his member, having your hands hold his throbbing flesh, now painfully pooled with blood, while he aggressively shoved down his athletic shorts, freeing his very erect cock to spring out.

It was a sight to see — his cock freely nodding with pre cum leaking out of the slit, his head flaring a bright red while his veins bulged down his length. You can feel your mouth salivating at the sight of tasting his pebbled release sitting so prettily on his head.

It’s embarrassing how you were so weak to his touch, how desperately you wanted a taste of his release, to ultimately end up being completely stuffed with both his cock and his cum filling you up to the brim that it just had to leak out of your tight hole.

And it doesn’t help how your mind becomes a blank slate the moment his fingers stroke perfect circles around your hardened clit, the sounds of his reciprocated desires to devour you echoed so licentiously through your ears.

And accustomed to, your insides perfectly carved with the shape of his length, your inner walls throbbed, clenched the moment his fingers — one, two, three — slowly stretched out your needy pussy.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” his voice was teasing with a hint of impatience, “good girl," he praised when he feels you innately opening up for him. "show me how much you can suck me in, I wanna feel every inch of you,” Satoru coaxed, “trained this pussy so well, yea?”

Obediently nodding, your arms immediately latch around his neck, pulling him closer to your heated body. And with that, something short circuits in his brain the moment he sees you vulnerably so ready for him.

“You’re so fucking cute,” Satoru purred, the playful glint of his tone was the opposite of the sheer force he had when he quickly propped up your legs under his arms, pushing you further into the locker room as he rammed his cock inside you, your back arching at the sudden penetration — a dichotomy of pleasure and pain as three fingers surely cannot suffice and prepare you for the length and girth of his cock no matter how many times he’s fucked you.

“Hold tight,” he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips traveling down to your ears, tauntingly whispering, “I gotta swoon over my manager with a good fuck.”

Aggressively thrusting upward as the tip of his head searched for your sweet spot, your body folded from his strength. It doesn't take him long to find it — gummy and deep — especially when you're trembling and writhing in his grip. "because she just loves my cock, doesn't she?"

“T—toru,” you moaned out, the sweet mating call of his name ringing pleasurable to his ears.

“Who’s my good girl?” cooing as he placed a kiss on your nose, gently smiling despite his cock bullying past your wet, puffy folds, the sharp slapping of his skin meeting your thighs harshly echoing in the empty locker room.

And he swears he saw stars when he hears you.

— “Me.”

Currently shaking off the memory you had a week prior, you had one job: stop that from happening.

Well, that being another disastrous interview session — sex just so happens to come with it… always.

It’s not like you didn’t enjoy his company. It was rather quite the opposite — you craved his touch and longingly wanted to be by his side despite your words stating otherwise.

In short, you’ve been in denial. A secret you’ve upheld since the realization that he’s crept into your heart and took much more space in it than you would like to admit.

Falling in love with the university’s hot shot wasn’t something you’ve planned to do within your academic agenda. Being prompt with your studies, attending clubs, and enjoying time with friends while studying, with the occasional partying, maybe getting a boyfriend here and there, while accruing a job and work experience was part of the plan.

Not, him.

More specifically, loving Gojo Satoru, the bane of your existence, the pretty boy with an even devilishly handsome cock, that’s won your heart despite being your fuck buddy, was not part of the plan.

It should be a universal law: to never fall in love with your friend with benefit. And if there was a fine for being defiant of such a law, you would be the one prosecuted and trialed for such a wicked crime.

And to no surprise, even today, you were no saint.

Moments before —

“You know?” panting with his arms wrapped around your waists, thrusting upwards while he met your pace as you bounced on his cock.

With sweat dripping down his temple, he sucked onto your perked nipples, groaning when he feels you further tightening around his length — which was already snugly wrapped around him, “we should seriously date,” he frankly stated.

“Shut up,” you groaned, combing through his hair, adjusting your position to move your hips in rhythmic waves, the fire of your thighs making it difficult to withstand this position.

“Why not?” he groaned while pulling you down, cradling the back of your head with one hand while the other motioned your continual movements, his firm touch gratifying and making you feel safe despite the vulnerability of fucking in a public space.

“I—I don’t ahh ‘Toru that’s too deep! —” moaning from the hitch of his hips, forcing himself to go even deeper, the tip of his cock teasingly poking at your sweet spot as his girth stretched you out — each motion helping him to bottom out.

Your eyes are brimmed with tears as you hold his hair, pulling against his strands while the other digs into his shoulders, marking up his body — it was so easy for him to make a mess of you in such a short time, and he loved it; absolutely craved for it.

“You let guys that aren’t your boyfriend,” chuckling while he pushed your body down, feeling your juices run down his inner thighs, satisfied at how nicely his cock was soaking in your soft walls, “fuck” thrust “you” thrust “like” thrust “this?”

Despite the rather light tone of his voice, jealousy raged inside him. Because there should be no other answer than —

“No — “ your grasping at his back, using any part of his body to find leverage to mitigate the fullness you were feeling inside your tummy — the red scratches of his back and shoulders remnants of your relationship with him.

“Good,” he praised, gripping your ass with a sly smile teased at the corner of his lips, eventually blossoming into a brazen grin when he intentionally stopped his thrusts just to hear you whine out for him again, “and it should stay that way,” he confidently professed.

Dating Gojo Satoru. That would be nice.

Commitment issues? Sure, guess you can say you had that.

Insecurities? Most definitely so when your so-called partner was The Gojo Satoru — the university's hottest athlete currently in the process of being scouted to play in the professional league.

It felt all too surreal, everything inside of you was filled with him — literally and figuratively. From the way his lightly trimmed, now wet with your cum, hair tickled your clit to the way his cock filled every inch of you in one second only to be languid — slow and easy — pulled out and the next, rammed into you like a pistol releasing its bullet.

He usually took his time before games to fuck you, to enjoy and absorb your godly pussy power — he liked to always add while balls deep inside you with your thighs plastered to your chest, his weight pushing against your body, with the silliest smile despite the rather not so silly act he was doing with you.

A jinx, he liked to argue. A just happened chance of a one-night stand, now leading to years of fucking multiple times a week, under his solid impression that without you, there was no success.

Win after fucking. And a loss without it.

What can you say? Dick was good, but being in his arms felt even better.

It’s a sin. But at this point, did you have any leisure to contemplate if that’s even an option for you to not partake in anymore?

For someone that sleeps with drool coming out of his mouth, to the obnoxious thirst pics he would send only to you with an even more atrocious emoji ‘😜’ with a little ‘heh’ at the end, he sure gave you butterflies in your stomach; his mere presence made you feel good.

Crying and fervently pleading, with broken moans while every crevice of his cock continually carved your insides with his template, “Right there! — fuck ‘Toru, I—Imma cum please!” and he’ll reply with the most greedy moan as he pumped his seeds into your tight hole.

Satoru liked taking his time, but he also lavished under the thrill of a quick fuck. Desperately clinging onto each other, fucked into an absolute mess while he quickly rearranged your guts — that was his favorite.

“Can’t talk anymore?” he smiles. At the same time, he painfully fucks you at a slow pace, “Thought you were going to put me in my place?” cock twitching inside you when he notices how swollen your lips have become and the little squirm you release when you feel him growing within you, “it’s a shame, I like it when you curse at me,” he chuckles.

“Shut up,” you tiredly croaked, “you talk too much.”

“Tired?” he breathed out, looking up with his lips slightly bruised from the feverish kiss you had with him just moments before he chose to open his mouth — the type with tongue with spit drooling down the sides, unafraid to use to teeth to bite and tug.

“Mhm,” you quietly nodded, pulling yourself closer to his body.

“Thought you’d get used to me by now,” he peppered your shoulders with gentle kisses, “you know? by how much I’ve fucked you,” his touch now soft — almost fragile in the way he held you.

“You wanna try getting impaled by this,” clenching on his shaft for emphasis while you relished in his comfort, “and then tell me if you can get used to it too?”

“Relax,” he coached, chuckling as the padding of his fingers gently massaged your hips and eased out at your muscles, “I hear ya, just lean on me a bit.”

The warmth of his skin felt nice. The touch of his hand pressing against your body felt like electricity pulsing through your body while the circuits of your neurons flashingly fired to cause the heat of your core to spark in flames when he pressed tender kisses against your shoulders — one too gentle and comforting for a fuck buddy to be doing.

“You know,” he hummed, “dating me won’t be all too bad.”

“Sure,” you thoughtlessly answered back, snuggling your face into the crook of his neck, taking a whiff of his natural scent.

“You like me,” he placed a kiss on your temple, “and I think we’re pretty compatible,” he continued to kiss areas of your face, spending time to adorn every inch, “Sex is good, and I’m hot, so I don’t see why you won’t date me?”

“Who said I liked you?” your useless pride spoke before you registered his confession.

“Rude, who’s the one that won’t let me go in the mornings?” scowling as he lightly flicked your head. “and you mumble when you sleep, you know?” he smirked, the tilt of his lips teasing, his crystal blue eyes half hidden from his lids as he briefly looked down at your swollen lips, “it’s cute, but I would rather have you confess to me when you’re not half asleep.”

“You freak,” pouting as you tried hiding your face, embarrassed that you unknowingly outed yourself yet still chose to proudly reject his confessions.

“How about this,” looking up with eyes sparkling with anticipation, “if I make the last point, then you go on one date with me.”

“Is there an option to decline?”

“No,” offended you would say such words, you could practically see every aspect of his demeanor — hair, face, eyes — all simultaneous sulk in unison.

“Then what if you don’t make the last shot?”

“You won’t need to worry about that,” he cheekily smiled, cupping your face to place a soft kiss on your nose before reaching your lips. You can feel his cock starting to harden and twitch, evident from the small hitches of his hips to burrow himself slowly into you.

Leading you into a kiss, pushing you upward to give a little space for him to squeeze his cock inside you, the patience within him to wait for you to slowly sink onto his length again dissipates the moment he hears you tease.

With your mouth gaping open, and eyes tightly shut while your nails dug into his chest, barely managing to garner the strength to go for another round, you always talked so big. “You’re prideful to think one date can win me over.”

“I mean I already have,” shrugging as he leaned back on his elbows, scanning down to see where you’re both connected. it's arousing when he sees your pubic bone perfectly nestled on top of his, “You’re the one that’s sitting on my cock, no?”

“your mouth is the problem, Satoru,” rolling your eyes while you pushed him away, the heat of your cheeks burning up just as the core of your stomach flared up and coiled inside you.

Pulling you back, tilting your chin to meet his wanting eyes, “Hey hey, look at me,” he softly breathed, “I’ll be good to you,” he whispers, “I don’t go fucking around other girls, it’s just been you. I promise.”

“ ‘Toru —” you feel him slightly adjust his hips and in tandem, his cock moves deeper inside.

“Shh… just trust me,” shoving the rest of his shaft fully inside you, clenching his jaws and immediately wrapping his toned arms around your waist. From the sudden suffocating tightness surrounding his size combined with the pleasurable sensation of you writhing in his arms, he knew today was going to be a good game — his career best, at the least.

"I'll prove it to you. I'll win."

"what if —"

And through gritted teeth, while he steadies himself inside you, with each breath he emphasized, the gushing of your wet pussy coating his cock, and the desperate whimpers of your moans sounding so organic and delicate in his ears as he prepared you for another climax,

“Shh... you should know that best, princess. I always finish the job.”

—

Squirming in your seat, heart racing as you watched Satoru belatedly enter the rink, shaking out his white hair before putting on his helmet — droplets of sweat peeking through from his prior rendezvous, the slight bliss on his cheeks blooming with the puff of smoke huffed from his mouth.

Swiftly skating to his teammates to start on warmups, donning a blue and white jersey with white lettering with the number 6, there was a divide of a deep chant of his name coupled with the shrieking enthusiasm of his fangirls whenever he effortlessly made a practice shot. Whenever he slightly even glanced over to the audience, there was a roar of adoration.

“Keep it all in for me, yea?” the source of your migraine chuckled as he held your trembling body. His hands naturally moved to lightly massage your sore hips, the huffs of his solid chest inviting you to breathe and wind down.

In response you reached up to pinch his nipples, groaning from exhaustion, "pervert..."

“it’s my last game, so be nice to me.”

Fucking you till the last minute he could spare, Satoru decided to be cheeky and shoot his cum so deeply inside you. Huffing curses close to your ears as his arms pulled you further down on his cock, nearly piercing you with his length, his member pulsing with every splurt of his seeds pushed into you.

In conclusion, you’re now sitting in your seat, not daring to move for fear that it will spill. He was usually good at cleaning you up, taking his sweet time to kiss your cheeks and brush his bruised lips against your skin as he steadied his breath. But maybe it was from the nervous thrill he had of meeting his once friend, or the pent-up frustration of this past season that’s gotten to him, but one thing for sure was that Satoru came a lot — your wet panties currently pooled and soaked in his cum being proof of it.

“What took you so long, was looking all over for you?” Someone chirped behind you.

Flustered from hearing his voice, you quickly turned around, flinching when you felt a lump of fluid squeeze out of your pussy.

Cheekily smiling as he pulled up his skates while apologetically smiling, “I need my strings fixed… wondering if you had any extra?”

“Haibara-chan…” you forced out a chuckle, trying to shake away the sudden surprise, lightly shaking your head while you took his skates, “I’m starting to wonder…” slowly untying his laces, the cold stadium making it a bit difficult for your fingers to grasp onto the material, “if you’re doing something fishy with these?”

“... That's Gojo-san,” Haibara mumbled under his breath, sitting down on the bench, the clothes of his uniform oddly too big for his growing physique, “It just somehow ends up getting worn out all the time,” the younger man sulked, “I blame Yaga-Sensei for running us so hard during practice.”

“Mhm,” you hummed while searching through the team bag to find a new pair of white laces, “I’m teasing, Haibara-chan,” opening up the fresh pack to string his skates, “just promise me, you won’t be like him.”

“Him?” Haibara curiously asked, cocking his head to the side, his blunt bangs moving with the angle of his head.

Yes, Him — the one who’s currently in a headlock from Yaga-Sensei for completely blowing off the pre-game interviews.

“Ah, guess you’re referring to Gojo-san,” Haibara looked into the field, and took a glance at you, “but you like him, no?”

“Huh?” you felt a sudden pang in your stomach when hearing those words.

“Sorry! I meant like friends!” He raised his hands to rectify the tension from your question, cheeks blushing in embarrassment. “You’re close to him, right? We've noticed you both spend a lot of time together,” he hummed.

“Ah, yeah… I guess,” you softly answered, barely audible.

“He’s handsome and friendly, awfully a good athlete, and is smart too?” Haibara was practically bouncing on his seat while bragging about his beloved senpai, “There’s practically nothing the man can’t do!”

“Sure… but he’s the most insufferable human I’ve ever met in my life,” you grumbled, slouching in your seat to hide your face from possibly showing any emotion while talking about him.

“Really? Wow, I’m jealous,” he whispered, yet his voice chirped in adoration, “maybe he just really likes you, you know… like how close friends do that to each other! ”

Close friends.

Guess the dynamic of the relationship was of close friends but… not with a good conscience — close friends with benefits.

Despite the nature of your relationship with him, he wasn’t what you imagined. Indeed, you both didn’t start with the most cordial dynamic. You hated him and despised his guts when he “accidentally” stepped on your white shoes while he rushed out of the lockers.

Normally you wouldn’t mind. Accidents happen and you weren’t particularly fussy about those things to care. But when the contender that stepped on your shoes had size twelve feet, a literal giant compared to yours, of course, you’ll get livid — especially when the dirt of his soles made your shoe look gray from one step alone; furthermore, when he didn’t dare to say a simple sorry.

You recall grunting, mumbling curses at the stupidly tall asshole, with an even stupid smirk on his face while cleaning your shoes with a toothbrush during the middle of the night. You slept with the intent to kill him the next morning and make his life a living hell when you’re introduced as the team’s manager.

But guess what, Satoru would always have the upper hand. Before you can even introduce yourself, he’s stiffly walking towards you with a hand awkwardly scratching the back of his head while pushing something in your direction.

“Here,” he stares off to the side as he hands you a shopping bag, “I wasn’t sure what size you wore if it doesn’t fit, you can exchange it.”

“What?” you eyed him, unsure why he was acting so weird.

“Sorry, we got off on the wrong foot,” Satoru lamely threw out a pun, hoping the tension would ease out with a small laugh, instead he was met with your unfazed expression.

“tough crowd,” he softly murmured, sighing before leaving the room, “well, the receipt's in the bag if you don’t like it.”

Suspiciously eyeing the bag, you took out the box and opened it. Inside was a pair of shoes that were similar to the ones you wore yesterday before he ruined them, with a little note inside and a rather cute drawing of himself.

‘Hope we can get along. Welcome to the team.’

You felt acid slowly creep its way up your throat, gurgling in your stomach, making it painfully difficult to succumb anymore to this conversation. A stamp of reality that Gojo Satoru may possibly, after this game, become nothing more than a fever dream.

It’s silly, really. And it was even more ridiculous how you pulsed in your seat, longingly wanting that he would win — not for his own success, but for yours.

“Sometimes I wish he would be —”

“Yu and Kento, get your asses over!” Despite being from across the rink, Yaga-sensei’s voice boomed as if he was right next to you, breathing down your ear.

“I think Sensei is calling for you guys,” you interjected, kindly smiling with your eyes as you passed on his skates.

“Oh shit!” His eyes rounded, face paling and body antsy in his seat, “Ahh thank you for stringing these for me.” Bowing multiple times in gratitude as he reached over his skates, “Nanami! We gotta go!”

“Tell Sensei I’m not here.” You could hear his faint voice coming from the corner, his thick jacket covering his whole body with only his laced skates peeping from the bottom.

“I’ll give you five seconds, ” Yaga-Sensei threatened, “or you’re both running laps around the field till you drop tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir!” Haibara immediately stood up, quickly dragging his fellow blonded friend along with him — for someone less enthusiastic about his games and practices, Nanami was always fully dressed for the game.

“Ahh Gojo-san! Look this way!”

“GAHHH! Gojo-senpai is coming here! My phone! I need a picture!”

The shriek of his fans' screams painfully rang in your ears.

The chant of his name gets louder, the shrill becoming overbearing when you notice him skating towards your side of the stadium.

“Don’t you dare come here,” you mouthed, your eyes shooting daggers at the smirk on his face.

You could tell — no, you could feel every inch of your body being observed by the audience, daggers being sent in your direction.

Did he just fucking wink at me?

It was infuriating just how normal he was on the court while you writhed in your seat, having a mental shock whenever you felt a hot gush of viscous fluid drip onto your panties.

Satoru makes a crisp stop in front of you, taking off his helmet and shaking his hair. It was comical the way his fans fell to their knees, girls practically foaming at the mouth and guys mentally noting how to up their rizz game like the athlete.

Opening up the side door, he leans against the railing with his elbows resting on the surface, “you good?” he arrogantly asked. Though his words sounded caring, the slight mischievous twinkle in his eyes told otherwise.

“What do you think, Satoru?” You hissed through your teeth despite the friendly smile you gave him.

“Good girl,” he whispered out, just enough for you to hear, “ wouldn’t want you to waste any of it.”

“Gojo Satoru, I swear —”

The stereo briefly shrieks before announcing, “Ladies and Gentleman! Here come the visitors onto the rink! Give them your loudest cheers!”

Immediately you can see his jaw clenching, and the once vibrant color of his cerulean eyes becoming a shade darker as he turned around to face the opposing team. his gaze specifically lands on the team captain — Geto Suguru, Kyoto Spartan’s center.

“Are you going to be okay?” softly placing your hand on his forearm, worried he wouldn’t be able to control himself and act on his emotions.

“Yea,” he turned around half-heartedly chuckling as he looked down at your hand comforting him, only to look up with a smug look on his face, “you worried about your soon-to-be boyfriend?”

“I’m being serious, Satoru,” you lightly gripped his arm, the look of your eyes solidified his one of many reasons why he fell for you in the first place.

You were kind. well, kind enough to accept all his bullshit.

“I know, and I am, too.” He calmly reassured with his gloved hand placed over yours, “It’s gonna be a good game, and I gonna make you my girlfriend, so don't fall too hard, okay?” Satoru playfully winked, briefly squeezing your hand before leaving you to join his team, “I’ll be fine, worry about me after the game because I’m going to need it.”

Today would mark the champions for the Mens Division I finals: the Tokyo Trailblazers vs. the Kyoto Spartans.

The final terminus of once childhood best friends, Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, now stood on opposite sides to be the final victor. Star players of both universities who played together till two years ago now stand as rivals at the collegiate championships.

“Eyes on the puck at all times,” Yaga-Sensei forewarned, “You’ve practiced with Suguru, and knowing his playstyle should be second nature, by now.” taking a glance at Satoru in his zone, eyes fiercely determined yet his composure was calm, “he’s not in our team, so play aggressive. Don’t ever fall behind Satoru, keep up at his pace and pass when you see the moment.”

“Yes sir,” the team harmoniously responded.

“Yu and Kento, remember to be careful, be vigilant and sharp, especially you, Nanami…” Yaga-Sensei cautioned, the lines of his furrowed brows behind his sunglasses deeply cut into his forehead, “No one else knows your position better than Suguru.”

Sophomore year, summer —

Jinx. noun. An evil spell; a person or thing supposed to bring bad luck.

It all started during your second year of university.

Just like how everything just happens, so does your relationship with Gojo Satoru. It started naturally — or you would like to convince yourself.

You were the team’s manager by title, and Satoru’s freelancing PR manager in private.

“Why the fuck do you always have to make my life miserable!” You hissed at Satoru uncaringly stuffing his clothes from his locker into his bag, “Sensei’s gonna kill me tomorrow,” you groaned, leaning against the lockers and sliding down to the cement floor.

“I think that’s a you problem,” he hummed, taking a glance down at you before he continued to pack his bags, “I told you, I wasn’t going to do that interview, especially after that shitty game.”

“You're doing this on purpose huh?” you numbly asked, the throbbing pain of your head making you feel dizzy, “you’re just a prick that can’t accept a loss.”

“Not exactly,” he nonchalantly responded while closing his locker, clicking his tongue in annoyance, “I just didn’t want to answer the same damn questions I get all the time, that’s all,” he stroked his hair back to expose his forehead before crouching down, leaning on his elbows, manspreading to your level while sitting on the bench, “it’s nothing personal, princess,” he winked.

His face was dangerously close to yours, almost as if he was taunting for something more than just a petty banter — especially in the way he titled his face, making it so easy to just —

“I wanna strangle you sometimes, you know?” you huffed out, glaring at him gloating down at you with the most irritating grin to exist.

Maybe it was the anger that blinded your senses but strangely he looked so fucking handsome, especially in his gray sweats that — you scanned him from top to bottom, and you can almost see the definition of his crotch through the lining. he was big.

You can almost bet the pink of his lips was so soft to touch, and plush to suck — what the fuck were you thinking.

Smirking when he caught your gaze on his lips for a second too long, he drew even closer. reaching down to grab your wrists to grip around the collar of his shirt, licking his lips while he challenged, “It’s your lucky day, Princess. Try me.”

Starting is always the hardest, the rest is easy.

you wanted to kiss him, badly. clenching onto his shirt with a million thoughts spiraling through your head, mentally cursing him with every possible word you knew. Everything soon became quiet the second your eyes zoomed in on him licking his lips — it was absolutely perfect — glossy with a perfect shade of pink that seduced you into agony.

So without thinking, your lips go crashing onto his. The harsh breathing through your nose sounds impatient and gruff. Kissing him, with teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance, Satoru immediately reciprocated by pulling you up to his firm lap.

“You wanna fuck me so bad, don’t you,” he panted in between kisses while his hand sneakingly ventured under your clothes to unclasp your bra and while the other pushed its way into your pants, harshly groping onto your soft ass.

Despite the tease in his voice, the quick speed of his hands curiously touching every inch of your body, groping and clawing, showed otherwise but leisure.

“you started it,” groaning as you threw your head back, allowing his lips to peck kisses on your skin and for his tongue to trace up to your chin.

“You’re so honest when you’re needy,” he chuckles, “practically fucking me with your eyes.” Satoru always had a way with his words. He always irritatingly managed to get under your skin, as if he had an encyclopedia written on how to annoy you, he was practically an expert at it by now.

Normally you would scoff at his ego, and throw in curses just for some flavor. But you fell silent, pussy suddenly clenching on the air when you took a peek at Satoru, easily pulling off his shirt with one hand. His warm body was draped in a perfect muscle tone while he molded your breasts to his palm, his mouth sucking on your nipple, tongue tenderly swirling around your areola.

“ngh shut up!” you rasped, “you’re so full of yourself.”

“Hmm,” he sounded pretty humming in response. Using his lips as a decoy to distract where his fingers were trekking towards, he pulled your panties off to the side to slip his slender fingers to touch your pussy — throbbing, warm, and laughably wet.

“let’s see,” groaning when he feels the warmth of your core, and your viscous juice coat his fingers. He swears that’s enough for him to cum in his pants but with all the willpower he had, he didn't — he couldn't until he's at least fucked you a couple rounds and has gotten a taste of your pussy — he lowly chuckled, “where you’re weak, princess.”

you gasped out a quiet, “fuck mhm, right there ‘Toru — j-just like that — please,” while tugging onto his hair, the hiss through his teeth sounding so melodic to your ears.

With your fingers harshly entangled in his hair, you tried to register how this all happened. Your clothes were one by one thrown onto the cold floor, with Satoru now shirtless as he littered your bosom with tender kisses, holding you behind your curved waist while you pressed your chest further into his mouth, to feel the gratification of his warm tongue sucking on your nipple.

As his fingers stroked up and down your folds, the lewd noises of your erection squelched loudly while his mildly calloused fingers rendered pleasurable friction to your clit — a new, profound sensation you’ve never felt before, especially not with your fingers or even your most reliable toys.

And it felt good — so fucking good.

“you’re so soft,” he pulled out a groan deep in his throat, “hold onto me,” he ordered, his tongue trailing up your chest while he switched positions to have you lie on the bench.

Quickly pulling out his hand from touching your cunt, to strip you from your pants and throw them off to the side, he smirks when he hears a subtle whine subconsciously release.

“No — ’Toru please —”

That's all he needs to hear. Satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs and meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he can see it through your damp panties. He almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. call you out on your ego, but the ache that shoots down to his cock, painfully throbbing in his briefs, banging to be freed, reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself — probably worse and much more needy, desperately wanting, than you can imagine.

“I got you,” he huffed, pressing a tender kiss on your knees before spreading out your legs to settle in between them, his eyes soaking up every inch of your pussy to have it practically memorized, “I just wanna see you a bit.”

Pulling up your panties and seeing your puffy folds perfectly enveloping the fabric made his cock twitch, forcing his hips to push his hardened bulge against your needy core while a tantalizing, static pulse ripped through his body.

The thick padding of his finger pushes against your flesh. And if there was a pageant for the prettiest cunt, Satoru was goddamn sure you would win. especially with how your pussy softly recoiled every time he poked your wet flesh, simultaneously eliciting an even prettier, desperate moan.

“god you’re fucking wet,” Satoru purred as he played with just how thick your juices strung onto his fingers, “prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he delightfully praised under a solemn breath.

“Satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most.

So what better way is there than to play his own game — to tease and have him be the one yearning, begging at his feet.

“Yea?” gaining a bit of your conscience to lean your weight on your elbows, instead of needly lying on the bench, expecting Satoru to do something — anything, fast, “you’ve seen other pussies? Thought you were a virgin,” you teased while looking down at Satoru, pushing his bangs away from his eyes — his white hair a mess, cheeks heated and eyes dark and dilated.

but, it’s his game. no one knows the rules better than he does.

So instead of your expected reaction, Satoru chuckles, and takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, blowing air while he watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing. your hole pulsates in desire as arousal drips and leaves you into a burning mess.

It’s perfect—you’re perfect, everything about you is what he’s dreamed of — no, it’s better, far better than what he's fucked his fist to all this time.

“Cute, you think so highly of me,” he snorted, unfazed by your mockery, eyes still focused on your pussy, “but you can see for yourself —” Satoru fastly pulled you down, causing you to yelp in shock at how strong he was. his face was now dangerously close to your leaking core, fingers delicately spreading out your folds, to uncurtain your pulsing hole and clit, contently smiling in adoration.

“—if I’m a virgin or not.”

“do you even know where the cli— oh my god,” you sobbed, the heaves of your chest becoming greater the moment you feel Satoru suck on your hardened bud, the plush of your thighs pushing against his head, curving your back as you pulled onto his hair, breathless from how he, too, was desperately eating you out.

it’s jaw dropping hot when his veins bulge and Adam’s apple bob while he gulps down thick saliva mixed with your sweet cum down his dry throat, his palm presses down your stomach to keep you pinned from squirming away.

he hears you and feels that you want him to. so he works, he works till his forearms burn and his biceps beautifully flex every time he fucks his finger into you, completely stretching you out, expertly adding more of his fingers to see your tight rim around his fingers clench in needy desire.

It doesn’t take him long to make you cum. Perfectly in tandem with the pressure of his mouth sucking your clit, to the rhythm of his finger inching deep within to find your sweet spots, guess, it’s not a surprise it takes him less than two minutes to locate it and another minute for you to be gushing. Quivering in his reign, the pleasure overwhelming as you came in his mouth— it’s almost painful how euphoric it felt.

Sucking and lapping every last bit of you while steadily pulsing his fingers in and out as you slowly came down from your climax, it wouldn’t be Gojo Satoru if he didn’t get the last word.

Letting go of your abused pussy with a soft kiss to your clit, his lips down to his chin were drenched, glistening, and dripping with your cum.

“You were saying?” he grinned.

Two hours thereafter, that day, Gojo Satoru performed a career-high of scoring seven goals.

Day of finals, thirty seconds till the game starts —

“Nanami,” throwing his arm around his Kohai, "I always knew you would be most fitting for this position,” a gentle voice welcomed himself.

“Geto-san,” Nanami's voice was emotionless, “you’re more than welcome to come and take it back,” the junior sarcastically jibed.

“Me? Don’t know if Satoru —”

“Get away from him, Suguru,” Tokyo’s team captain cut the rival off, “the game’s about to start, Nanami.”

Suguru shrugs while Nanami swiftly strides to his position as right-wing, carefully watching the scene behind Gojo’s back.

“Satoru!” The raven-haired now standing in front of Tokyo’s center amicably called out, eyes forming a crescent behind the thick black and white helmet, “long time no see.”

Satoru was straight to the point, desperate, “why’d you leave…?”

“No hello? My… Satoru,” the other chuckled while he comfortably situated his stick, next to the puck while both teams waited for the starting bell to ring, “where have your manners gone.”

“are those rumors true?” Satoru asked while lowering his stance, preparing himself to get the first puck to start the game.

“The rumors?” Suguru questioned, a slight twitch of his lips giving away his faux innocence, “Oh —” scoffing while reciprocating Satoru’s actions, “Ahh, the one about me being a traitor?”

“Suguru, I know you. Tell me the tru —”

A loud buzz echoes in the stadium, Satoru’s words falling blank under the blaring cheers of the fans.

“Taking the lead —” the announcer reported live through the blaring amplifier.

“Guess, we’ll both have to see how much you know me, Satoru,” Suguru swiftly stated in the milliseconds of passing Satoru, speedily making his way for the opponent’s goal.

“— ladies and gentleman, has the Tokyo Trailblazers finally found their match? The Kyoto Spartans will take the lead with player Geto Suguru setting the pace!”

The second period, five minutes till the buzzer for intermission —

Tokyo (3): Kyoto (3)

Grunting as he pushed his way through the defense, despite the chaos of the stadium, he could hear the familiar crisp sound of skates closely behind him, “I heard you’re finally sleeping with her,” Suguru smirked, now skating parallel to Satoru.

“Shut the fuck up,” Satoru grunted, making every effort to keep pushing for the offense, expertly navigating through the rink while juggling the puck past the opposing team, quickly passing the biscuit to Nanami, “it’s none of your damn business,” Satoru hissed out.

“You're scared that she might not like you? ” Suguru breathed behind his ear, “when that’s all you’ve been painfully doing till now?”

Wrong, Suguru couldn’t be more far from it.

Because since the beginning, for him, noncontingent of your response to him, it’s always been you.

And outside being the gifted athlete who’s endowed with greatness, with you, Satoru had two personas.

the one that desperately fucked you.

Crashing into the lockers, the impact of your back being further pushed onto the cold medal sent shivers down your body with every desperate thrust of his cock into you. It was awfully dangerous to moan out of his name, let alone to even breathe when his teammates were just outside the door.

“Shh, be a good girl,” he grunts while slowly fucking his cock out of you, only to ram it back in with even greater force, while his hand simultaneously covers your mouth, “don’t want people to hear you getting fucked, do we?”

Muffling your moans with his palm, his cock relentlessly pistols in without any leisure to be accommodating to your aching core. His breathing becomes more hitched as his thrusts become more languid to press deeper — his length reaching as far in as it can go — it would be an understatement if you weren’t scared that he could practically rip you in half in this position.

You grab him. and your nails dig deeply into his back, marking his skin with angry scratches of crimson red. maybe he was a masochist, but the pain of your nails coloring his back was nothing compared to the pleasurable satisfaction he got when your gummy walls suffocated his cock.

Kicking out his teammates, only to fuck behind their backs as they cluelessly started on their warmups before a game was routine.

He’s memorized every inch of your body, studied where it makes you writhe, tremble, and immediately latch onto him for your dear life while he helps you reach your high.

And right now, he knew. He can feel it in the way you’re clenching down on him that you were close. Not that he had any idle leisure of his own, but just enough to pump his cock feverishly into you, bullying past your abused hole as he lavished in the melodic symphony of his balls slapping against your cunt.

He has you folded against the wall, his arms holding you up and hitched under your thighs while he mercilessly fucked you. The burning in his muscles and the strain he felt in his body was nothing comparable to the heaven he was experiencing with your powerless stance under him while his hips snapped forward, his cock dominating your insides with his hand covered in your drool.

“—Toru please” you tried yelling, only for your voice to fall faint each time he rutted inside you, his cock completely disappearing in your body only to magically reappear to stretch you out again and burrow its length deeply within.

“angel,” he taunted, his breath fanning against your heated face, causing your eyes to swell up in tears when your eyes linked with his, briefly opening up his hand to allow you to breathe, “you gonna be quiet?”

You softly nodded, your insides clenching to stop the weird pressure that was building up inside, “it feels weird here, Toru — ahh it’s too much!” you whimpered, touching your tummy while your body ricocheted from his force.

“Yea? Then cum for me princess, I know you’re close,” he growls into your ear, his hot breath making it even more difficult to breathe, “you’re such a good girl taking my cock so well,” he praised, groaning when he immediately felt you throbbing around him in response.

The moment you see stars and your mind fall blank is when thick ropes of cum shoot inside you. you can almost feel the individual splurge of his hot seeds coating your walls, with every desperate thrust he made to completely milk out his cock, his tip throbbing while he grunted with pleasure.

“I fucking love —” he rasped out, face nuzzled into the cave of your neck. it was difficult to mesh out his last word from his harsh panting to catch his breath as he felt the lumps of his cum squeeze past his member, still inside you, splattering onto the floor with a warm trail of liquid gushing down his thighs.

“good luck today,” you whispered.

Luck? he didn't need.

But you? he absolutely, detrimentally did.

Or, the latter.

The one that, still, fucked you — because he loved you, like a lover.

With the days that surpassed as being his friend — with benefit — the more he’s taken a place in your life. It started with freely coming over after practice — fucking, despite not having a game the day after. Your bathrooms would naturally have another towel hung, and an extra toothbrush would stand next to each other.

Groceries were always Satoru’s duty, while you stocked up on the self-care necessities. Satoru particularly loved getting a facial with you with all the high-end masks and oils, cuddling under the blanket while you both watched cringy romcoms.

But it was undeniably his personal favorite when he could give you a facial with his cum splattered onto your face — it’s beautiful seeing you covered with his seeds. Or when his face is drenched in your sweet juice, despite his lungs desperate for air he immediately pushes you further down to sit on his face when he catches you trying to move away.

It’s become a ritual. you've become his religion.

He comes at exactly 8:47 P.M. And you wait for him.

The key to your door opens at the exact time.

He grins when you walk up to greet him.

“Waited for me?” he softly cooed, placing his index finger under your chin, his lips onto yours while sucking gently before pulling away, a string of saliva connecting you both, but quickly snapping when he brushes his thumb across your cheeks.

If the universe orbited around you, he was your centripetal force.

“So pretty,” he praised while looking into your eyes, breathless as if he could be absorbed into it.

“I have food —”

"Later,” he abruptly cuts you off, pulling you close to his body, ”but, I think —” humming with his lips barely brushing against your cheeks, his hand squishing them together as he confesses.

“— I'm gonna fuck you so hard,” his voice was unusually sweet for saying something so crude, “that you won't even be able to see out of those pretty little things."

You softly gasped, flustered and unsure of how to respond to such a comment. Instead, you roll your eyes as your hands find the back of his head to pull him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core.

His hands roam around your body, particularly groping your ass before his fingers tug at the waistband of your shorts — his favorite ones that always managed to get him bricked up.

"No panties, huh?" He states with amusement, "Aren’t you a bad kitty acting all coy,” he chuckles.

"Shut up," you retort, your cheeks feeling hot under the pressure.

“You don’t want it?” he rebuttals, taking a step back as if there was even a choice.

It’s infuriating how much power he had over you, enticing you in his grip as you mindlessly frolicked in his palm. And it doesn’t help that he looks… well… he looks gorgeous, dangerously handsome — especially with his hair mildly wet, and his warm body fragrant with cologne and body wash.

“I said,” wrapping your arms around him, further pulling him by the neck — so close that you can feel the tent that’s bulging under his sweats and the desperation that overflows in his visage while he angles his lips to perfectly match yours, “fuck me.”

“That’s more like it,” he murmurs before kissing you — it’s feverish and wanton, the type that makes you weak in your knees and your core to burn up in flames.

His steps immediately guide you to your bedroom, groaning and grunting while clothes are being stripped off one by one, leaving a trail of evidence with no intent of stopping the kiss.

Your feet knock against the foot of the bed, his signal to push you onto the mattress, abruptly ending the kiss as he looks down at your flustered expression with a smirk on his lips.

Relishing in your gaze, Satoru strips in front of you. Pulling his shirt over his shoulders with one hand, he flexes his stomach and takes his time to get naked.

He knows you'll look — you always do. Outside of being an athlete, what was the purpose of hitting the gym? To catch you lusting after him. He can practically see your mind racing with thoughts, and he couldn't wait to show that he's better than what your silly, pretty, little brain could ever imagine him doing to you.

Examining him from top to bottom, propped up on your elbows, you absorbed the sight of his smooth, toned chest as he stripped, the dentures of his muscles beautifully sculpted down from his chest to the crisp lining of hip dents that led to his crotch.

Leaning over, his body caging you with his toned arms, he gently places a kiss on your forehead, “like what you see?” he chuckles, “I’m pretty sexy, right?”.

"what the fuck?" you suddenly gasped.

“what?!” he whines — you can see his hair practically deflate.

Brushing your fingers over his chest, running your hand down to his abs, it’s smooth and toned. “thought your nipples would be pink,” you snorted, pinching his nipples.

He flinches at the pain, "it’s a brownish pink, for your information," He states, pouting, “and you’ve only noticed it now after how many times you’ve seen me naked?”

"I’m joking, stupid," You laughed, the melodic tune of your joy ringing in his ears like a constant melody.

“but I’m pretty right?” he pouts, biting your shoulders and softly kissing his denture marks.

“Yea sure whatever,” you breathe out, throwing your head back as he now kisses up your neck, your heart just about to burst out of your chest.

"Let's get this off, hm?" Satoru kindly asks while tugging on the bra strap.

Obediently nodding, you raise your arms like a kid, and he pulls it off over your head. And unlike the trail of clothes you’ve both left behind, he manages your garment with care — especially after the last one he “accidentally” ripped.

His hands rest on your stomach, fingers stroking every curve before he brings them up to cup your boobs, pushing up your breast to squish it softly.

“Feel good?” he asks, watching your expression slowly unfold in bliss.

And before you know it, he's dragged his hands down to your thigh, his fingertips softly grazing slowly to your panties, getting dangerously close to womanhood.

"Tell me how much you want me to touch you," He whispers, and in response you shove your fingers into his hair, gripping tightly.

The light callous of his fingertips trail over your clothed clit, gently stroking the base with his fingers, feeling your panties slowly becoming more damp with each touch.

Further opening up your legs, allowing him full access, he immediately takes the offer and ventures further along. situating himself in between your thighs to pull your panties off, kissing your hardened bud while peering up to see you touching your breasts, it’s a sweet sight to see for Satoru — breathless — while you longingly waited for him to just hurry the fuck up.

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “That’s fuckin’ cute.”

"Right there-" you whisper, and he nods, dragging his fingers along, slowly moving them around to stimulate you as he sucked on your clit, taking his time to prep you

“You still didn’t —” The vibration of his voice further stimulates your needy pussy, gasping as you curve your back, desperately reaching for more of his perfect stimuli, “answer my question,” he states.

"Don't piss me off," you groan, pushing his face back into its rightful place.

"Goddamn," He mutters, the grip of his hand on your thighs becoming harsher, and the stuck of his mouth further fueled fire to your core.

"I don't know how much longer I can wait when you treat me like that," he grunts while standing up again, simultaneously pushing down his pants and briefs, wasting no time as he wiggles out of his sweats.

You can see his dick is hard, twitching as it greets you.

He exhales heavily, stroking his length as he situates his head to brush over your pussy. He’s seen it countless times, but will never get enough of measuring just how far he can settle inside you. The sweet plush of your tummy offers more cushion and excitement as he watches you hitch up your hips, impatiently waiting for him.

"aren't you excited?" Gojo says with a grin, using his thumb to rub circles around your clit, guiding himself past your folds, purposefully missing your entrance to coat himself with your natural lubricant.

He doesn’t even wait for your answer, and wastes no time pushing himself in, pulling out a whimpered groan, allowing your walls to open up and welcome his entrance.

He picks up his pace, rhythmic and balanced while sliding his hands under your hips to lift you up slightly to make sure his entire length can fit inside.

"You're so tight.” Satoru grunts with a furrow in his brows as he dug his nails into your ass. hissing through his teeth while he continued to fuck through your tight hole, “You don't make this easy for me, do you?" He mocks, his grip tightening on your hips as he pulls you forward, your naked breasts bouncing with every impact.

You close your eyes, feeling every inch of his cock inside you. The slight tickle of his trimmed pubic hair brush against your clit as he slowly starts to roll his hips.

"You're so —" You whined, concentrating on keeping your sanity every time his tip painfully brushed back your sweet spot, "ngh — lazy!"

"Lazy, huh?" he scoffed, licking his lips like a predator locked in on his prey.

“ahh!” you yelped. within seconds you immediately find yourself on your stomach with Satoru’s weight crushing you from above. flipping you over without notice, wrapping a hand under your jaw as he turned your face towards him to deeply kiss, his feet harshly spreading and locking your thighs apart while his cock rammed into you, his balls splattering your wetness with each thrust.

"Maybe I won’t be so lazy if you become my girlfriend,” He states with a smirk, “just give in angel, you like my cock.”

“fuck — ‘Toru! slow d-down” you managed to cry out his name, his cock mercilessly thrusting into you, “you have n-no,” by now you were a babbling mess at how good he was fucking you, drooling with your lungs burning inside your ribs, “game tomorrow.”

“boo you’re boring,” He provokes, pushing his hand under your stomach to pull you on all fours, “never answering my questions.“

It doesn't take long for Gojo to adjust himself behind you. especially since your dripping cunt made it so for him to slide through every time. but it takes moments for you to readjust to him — every new position meant greater access for his cock to rearrange your insides.

“but this pussy will always be my good luck charm.”

It's almost as if you can feel his smirk as he grabs your hips, and begins to roughly pound into you in doggy.

"Look who’s lazy, c'mon, keep hips up, angel," He effortlessly teases, spanking your ass and firmly gripping onto the pulsing flesh.

"S-shut up, asshole,” you hissed, putting your head down on your arms for more leverage — it’s shocking how you’re not flying onto your headboard from the force of him thrusting into you.

"That's rich considering your asshole is right in front of me.” he chuckles, spreading open your cheeks to see your other hole pulsing on top of the one he was currently fucking, the rim barely withholding his girth, “ wanna try anal? it’s pretty, by the way."

"D-do you ever shut up?" You complain, reaching over to grab your pillow to muffle your moans. but in that split second, Satoru catches your wrists and pulls you backward, your back heavily arching and breasts rapidly bouncing in all directions, mimicking the robust thrusts of his cock pistoling into you.

“how can I, when you look so pretty,” his thrusts become more aggressive, “getting” thrust, he watches you crumble, face contorting in pleasure, he can tell you’re close, “fucked? thrust “by” he quickly catches your hand trying to reach down to stimulate your clit, “my” deeply pushing in, further splitting you open in half, the tip of his member knocking against womb, “cock.”

“too much…ahhh—wait! ‘Toru!” The bed violently shook as he drove his cock, balls slapping your wet pussy as your legs trembled with warm liquid dripping down from your thighs, slowly pooling onto the sheets.

“just say it, princess, you love me,” he growls, thrusting more as he nibbles on your lobes, pleasurable tears sliding down your cheeks as you instead gasp out his name.

“at least your pussy is honest.”

---

“I’m not here to talk, Suguru, get the fuck out of my way,” Satoru growled while pushing the other off.

“Don’t tell me, you still got no pussy to ask her out, Satoru,” the raven hair taunted.

“Nanami!” Satoru called out noticing his wing’s position wide open to shoot for a goal. It was apparent in the way Satoru briefly lost his balance, his composure starting to chip away from the strain of his muscles that he was getting exhausted — a feat Satoru would normally never struggle with until the last couple minutes of the game.

But speedily passing by and braking with thick shaving of ice spraying from the sudden stop, intercepting the puck when Nanami passes — a gameplay Suguru’s practiced countless times with Satoru — the Kyoto’s center was now in possession of the puck, taking no moment to rest before charging the opposite direction.

In those split seconds, Suguru jeered, “wasn't this our favorite play?”

“Fuck!” Satoru muttered under his breath, quickly changing momentum to skate the opposite way.

And just before the buzzer goes off, Suguru easily angles his stick to chip the puck, the force of the impact causing the biscuit to shoot straight into the net.

Satoru huffs just meters away, dumbfounded at how much Suguru’s improved and curated his craft. A force he once relied upon and leaned on, trained tooth and nail while shedding blood, sweat, and tears together since fourteen now has become a thorn to his side that contrived to bring him down, Suguru bypasses his once best friend, standing in shock.

“are you still in denial, or have I answered your question about who’s the traitor, Satoru?”

Tokyo (4): Kyoto (5)

Intermission before the third, final period —

A tie (6:6)

It was the longest eighteen minutes of your life. no one dared to even speak. Through the chatter and vibrancy of the stadium, only the heavy huffs and gulping of electrolytes of the players were heard. Even Yaga-Sensei just sat there, brows furrowed with his thick arms crossed over his chest.

And Satoru, too, silently sat on the bench, leaning on his elbows parched to his thighs, manspreading with a towel thrown over his head. The heat of his body contrasted with the gelid stadium had faint white smoke radiating from his expended body.

“Satoru,” you gently called out while handing out a fresh towel for him to use, “you’re going to catch a cold.”

“Don’t need it,” he dully murmured without taking a second to raise his head to acknowledge you.

“I —,” Yaga Sensei grasped hold of your shoulder to stop you from saying anything regretful that would further disturb him. Biting your tongue, you sighed, “Sure.”

The cold response of someone who literally just rearranged your guts so wantonly before the game, sharing an intimacy with him throughout the years that bloomed into something more than what you’d like to acknowledge than simply being a friend with benefit caused both frustration and helplessness to boil within you for not being unable to help him.

Not like he needed your help, nor did he ever ask. But from time to time, you wished he would let down his burdens with you, and allow you to carry his weight for a while.

Only once has he ever shown you his emotional side. The infamous night when Satoru received the news of Suguru’s departure, you found him drunk in front of your apartment waiting for god knows how long.

all you could remember was that the night was awfully cold for someone to have a broken heart.

That night, despite no words being said, the comfort of your arms and the warmth of your skin helped him to sleep despite the storm that raged in his mind.

It was understandable his mood. Normally he wouldn’t be so emotionally invested in a game, even if he had lost. During intermissions, he would either be chatting up a storm, blowing your ear off about all the plays he’s made and if you’ve finally fallen in love with him. Or, two, he’ll be listening to you nagging at him to not go throwing his opponents against the wall while wrestling for the puck.

Hockey was aggressive, but it was also an athlete’s duty to learn how to play smart and do their best to abstain from injuries that could potentially harm their career — especially, if the athlete in question is one preparing for his national debut to representing Japan in the Winter Olympics the following year.

Awkwardly, eyeing your expression, Haibara laughed while scratching the back of his head, cheerfully asking, “I would like a new one, mine’s a little damp.”

“Me too,” his blonded friend chimed in, his voice not as enthusiastic as Haibara’s.

Smiling in appreciation, you lent them a towel and extended the care to the other players as well.

“Why’d you give him the steal?” Sensei bluntly asked, looking at the rink while sternly watching Suguru make his way onto the field. His ex-disciple gave his old coach his respects with a little bow when he caught his gaze.

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?” Satoru numbly stated, the clenching of his fists reflecting his true emotions.

“You know what to do,” Yaga-Sensei firmly stated, pushing his sunglasses up his thick nose, wasting no time before the buzzer rang again to redirect his player, “you know him better than anyone else, trust your instincts.”

Twelve minutes till game —

The crowd roars. Currently in the last period, with a couple more minutes on the clock to crown the final winner, both teams ferociously fought to control the game.

The pluck clicks with each hit against the blade. Speedily sliding against the ice it was almost difficult to see it on the field.

Currently, in possession, Nanami pushed forward, putting pressure on Kyoto’s defense as Haibara simultaneously rushed to the other side, leaving Satoru wide open for a pass. Nanami prepares to hit a pass over to his captain, hitching the puck in the air for a quicker velocity towards Satoru, who’s ready to receive —

The glass walls tremble on impact. Flinching at the loud noise, your eyes widen when you see it unfold in slow motion. Both bodies harshly collided against the wall with Satoru getting sandwiched between two forces. expelling out a groan as he slid down the wall, with puffs of white smoke spewing from his lips with each harsh huff of his chest.

“Seems like a brawl has occurred between the two captains!”

“And from the looks of it, Gojo Satoru is struggling to get back on his feet!”

“No,” you muttered under your breath, face paling and body going cold despite the adrenaline pumping through your blood, you pushed your way through the audience to get to where he was.

Your mind felt like a minefield. With bombs ticking, threatening to explode with each step you took. Nauseous from the anxiety, it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe as if there was a ball stuck in your throat. And despite the efforts to try and stay calm, it was rather difficult when your thoughts replayed the countless other injuries Satoru sustained during your time as his manager.

“He’s going to have to take at least 8 to 10 weeks off for his fracture to heal.” The emergency physician stated, pointing at the small crack on his right clavicle.

“He probably won’t listen,” Sensei remarked, crossing his arms while letting out a deep sigh, “is there any way he can recover faster?”

“It’s fine guys —” Satoru tried playing it off.

“Shut up,” you and Sensei simultaneously interjected, scolding him to be quiet as if he were a child.

Clearing his throat, “As I was saying, it must’ve been painful for him to have played in this state, I imagine this was an ongoing injury he’s sustained in the past,” the doctor murmured while further analyzing the film.

You immediately shot daggers at him, glaring when the doctor unintentionally outed Satoru’s injury he’s been keeping a secret. Flinching, Satoru slowly sank further into his bed, covering his face with his blanket.

“Though, being diligent with his PT and fully resting his body for at least six weeks will be the fastest route for recovery.”

But, well… it doesn’t take more than five weeks for you to get a text from Suguru.

From: Suguru

Don’t get mad…

To: Suguru

You saying this makes me already mad. What happened?

From: Suguru

Just bring some icepacks and some sweets and head over to Satoru’s place.

To: Suguru

I swear to god if you guys play —

From: Suguru

... it's his fault.

And it doesn’t take you more than thirty minutes to be blowing up his doorbell, knocking on his door at exactly 12:34 A.M. with an ice cooler with icepacks and a bag full of his favorite candy.

Thud!

“Fuck… ow that hurt.” You heard a muffled voice through the door.

“It’s me.” You curtly announced.

Quickly opening the door, his elbow leaning against the door with an insouciant tone to his voice, he cracked a boyish smile, “Ah, isn’t this my favorite person. What brings you here?”

“I told you not to —” Rage bubbled up inside you as you glared at him.

“Okay!” Nervously holding up his hands, doing his best to calm you down, “before you get mad —”

“I’m already mad, Satoru —”

“Okay! Fine! Before you get even madder,” taking the heavy loads off your shoulders, settling them onto the floor, his warm hands cup your face, “it’s really nothing big. Just feels a little strained that’s all,” he tried to reassure when he sees you about to object.

“Really, I’m fine,” his eyes urged you to trust him, “I just… missed being on the rink, that’s all.”

Your eyes soften when you see the little sulk on his lip, and notice how he’s lost a little weight in his cheeks. Quickly letting out a deep sigh through your nose, you mumbled out, “I’ll be the one to decide if you’re fine or not.”

---

“Take your shirt off.” You ordered, firmly holding onto the hem of his white shirt while saddling on his thighs.

“Oh wow.” he placed his hands on his chest, acting innocent from your forwardness.

“Satoru, take your shirt off,” you grumbled, pulling at his shirt and rolling your eyes when it was easily removed, despite him acting naive, again his hands covered his bare chest — just managing to barely cover his sculpted pectorals.

“It’s really nothing,” he blushed, awkwardly looking off to the side with a guilty smile.

“Satoru you just took off your sleeve,” you murmured, placing an ice pack on his collarbone, your voice filled with worry.

“I’m really fine, baby,” he loosened up after seeing the cute pout on your lips, your brows faintly furrowed as your fingers ever so lightly iced his injury.

“I’m not your baby,” you stated with a glare, clearly not impressed with his defiance to go against his doctor’s orders, “I don’t date people that don’t listen to me,” you said without much thought while tending to his bruised clavicle.

“Oh —” his ears perked at hearing your words.

Fuck.

“Wait! What I meant was —”

It was evident that he was trying to contain his smile from the way he bit his lips. “You so wanna date me don’t you?”

---

It’s not a surprise how you ended up in this position.

It started off with a light kiss, lips softly meshing with each other with light teasing of tongue — he swore, it’ll be just one kiss.

Soon enough hands start to idly move on their own accord, groping areas, and massaging places that wouldn’t particularly follow with just one kiss, leaving you both simultaneously panting and yearning for more.

And then you’re grinding on his throbbing cock, spit slightly leaking from the edge of your mouths while tongues feverishly fought for dominance, naked with your pussy pulsing and dripping in need to swaddle and engulf him whole.

Progressing forward, you’re slowly sinking onto his length, bottoming out with your ass seated on his thighs, foreheads linked while you both took a minute to adjust to one another. like an unspoken language, you both solemnly breathed, that even if the world crashed around you both, nothing would matter because the other was there.

He’ll cum.

It’s beautiful how he does it. And in moments like these, you can’t deny that the man who’s chasing after his high under you was the man you loved.

With his mouth gaping open, his white brows furrow as he gasps for air while his large hands grip your bum, spreading out your cheeks for easier access through your hole. He desperately thrusts into you, unrhythmic and hips helpless from the warm seduction your plush walls have over him. His seeds shoot straight to your womb, filling you entirely with pulps of his cum leaking through your cunt. And it takes him a couple seconds to breathe as he rides out his high.

And then you’ll be sandwiched in between the sofa and his heavy body, his cock rummaging inside, amplifying the sound of his member shoved through your dripping cunt. It’s loud and sloppy the way he fucks into you. Wanton and bashful in the way his muscles tighten in tandem with you clenching down when his head hits just the right spot.

Your legs immediately wrap around his hips, securing him down to fuck you in that position. And he doesn’t retaliate from the limited position, instead, he welcomes it. With his face burrowed into the curve of your neck, his palms pushing your thighs to your chest— biting, clawing, scratching, and licking — doing whatever it takes for you to rectify the burning ache in between your thighs, and for him to release his seeds into you again — again, and again, and again.

“—toru! please,” you cried out and in your plea, he answered, “I’m right here,” Satoru groaned, “Keep up with me — fuck, I swear, jus’ a little more.”

Tightly wrapping his arms around you, his face nuzzled closely to your ear. Despite him already being inches deep within you, his every grunt and pant, the desperate moans he releases while he states your name, mixed with delirious curses has you craving for more.

With his mind hypnotized from the pleasure of his cock rummaging your insides, swaddled in care despite his cock bullying past your folds, he becomes possessive and carnal.

“This is mine,” he harshly bites your shoulders, pleased when you yelp while simultaneously tightening your reign on his cock burrowed within your walls, “all mine. You’re fucking mine,” he proclaimed.

“ — ‘Toru please keep going fuck right there!” you sobbed, cheeks stained with euphoric tears.

“Just say you want it,” he growls muffled with his lips smashed with yours, “tell me you want me.”

“yes, I want it. I want it so, so bad — need you so bad ‘Toru!” you mewled, letting out a soft whimper, feeling the vibrations of his grunts, pulses of ecstasy pulsing through your veins and straight to your core as you succumbed all authority and control for him to do whatever he desired.

“Fuck fuck fuckkkkkk.” he curses when he hears your words. Like a broken record, it echoes in his brain, with every release of his cum, his breath hitching and body vibrating as he finally reached his climax.

The voice of you calling out his name so dearly repeats so melodically in his ears.

Soon, the room once filled with the savage slapping of wet skin and immoral use of dirty curses of pleasure while you both partook in unholy matrimony was now filled with a thick smell of post-sex pheromones, coupled with softened breaths and sweet hums of foolish lovers.

“Be careful,” you softly mumbled, under him, while your hands lightly weaved through his damp hair. you placed a soft kiss on his bruised collar, his pale skin accentuated the blue-green tint, making it look far worse than it was.

“aw, you worried for me? I’m so touched,” he faked a sob as he pulled you tighter into his arms, mumbling while he lavished in your warmth.

“I still didn’t forgive you,” you lightly pulled on his hair. his eyes were droopy and his body felt even more heavy over your limp one.

“Yea?” he hummed closer to your lips, gently kissing you while slowly grinding his hips to your wet core, “thought your harder harder ‘Toru harder was you forgiving me,” he lightly chuckled in between kisses.

“You’re the worst,” grumbling as you tightened your arms around his neck, snuggling closer to his warm body.

“Wow, you love me? I’m so touched,” Satoru softly chuckled, gently stroking your heated cheeks as he held you in his arms, he too, soaking in the warmth and feeling the beatings of your heart.

—

Your eyes focused on nothing but him despite the chaos around you — just a couple of steps from touching his slumped body,

A loud buzzer goes off, quieting your thoughts, the loud announcement ringing static in your ears.

“ Sustaining the blow, Gojo Satoru gets back on his feet again! He proves once again on the court he is The Honored One!”

Two minutes till game —

Head throbbing, and every inch of his body burning from the strain, Satoru vigilantly fought for control of the puck. Every second felt like an eternity, and every stride of his skates felt tortuous as if every fiber of his muscle were being torn apart.

Satoru quickly passes to Haibara, and fastidiously receives the puck again when he's open. Faking a move to juke out his opponent, Satoru was getting closer to Kyoto’s goal.

It was evident that fatigue was overwhelming each player on the court. With their voices hoarse, and sweat starting to sting their eyes, while puffs of smoke perspired with each agonizing breath causing their lungs to burn in their chest, no one was willing to back down.

Watching from the side while nervously biting your cheeks, you observed the game as Satoru flew through the rink. From the calmness of his eyes, and confidence in his strides, to the quickness of his feet and the gentle care to his game, things started to make sense.

For the man that obnoxiously barged into your life, ruining your pair of white shoes, to managing a spot in your heart, he sure made you fall — hard.

On one random afternoon while you watched him soundly sleep in your arms, lightly drooling as he mumbled something incoherent about some zunda and cream at Sendai Station — loving him came easily.

Because even if you tried running away, your feet would always end up back to him. And you knew the fire that you'll hold for him was going to burn, but you couldn’t resist the flame that he lit in your heart.

“With seconds to the clock, with Gojo Satoru’s lead, the Trailblazers are fighting desperately to win this game!”

Gojo Satoru — with him, it wasn’t exactly love at first sight, but it was something like that.

“The Spartans are putting up a ferocious fight, Geto Suguru tries to steal the puck but is unsuccessful! Ladies and Gentleman, Gojo Satoru goes for the goal —”

Satoru sped his way across, the white tint of his jersey barely recognizable with his speed. The crowd cheers, sirens blow off to the throne the victors of this year’s champions.

And currently, tears freely flowed down your cheeks. And you let them despite the blur as you rushed onto the rink, the soles of your shoes about to slip on the scratched ice.

Because the saddest word in the world is almost, and he was worth more than being dwindled down to a regretful almost.

And if you had to defy fate, and create your own ending, so be it. You’ll suffer the consequence of meddling with destiny, and amend for your sins, in the future, when you’re dead if that meant there was a guarantee to have him in the present.

Because in the world of almost 8 billion people, somehow your worlds are intertwined.

“Be careful!” He panicked, throwing off his helmet as he rapidly skated over to you, “You’re going to hurt yo—”

Grabbing holding of his jersey, you slammed your lips with his — with thousands in the audience, cameras obnoxiously flashing up the rink in all directions.

You won’t hear the end of it from Yaga-Sensei, he’s certainly, most definitely mad.

Your anonymity is fucked, and now everyone will know you as the ‘girl that kissed Gojo Satoru’ — probably will be trending on all socials for at least a week, and that's being generous.

Maybe you were delusional or so high off adrenaline that you didn’t notice the mayhem surrounding you — especially not Satoru’s shocked expression when you suddenly kissed him.

But your ignorant bliss was soon interrupted when you slightly opened your eyes and were met with a thousand flashing lights that almost blinded your vision.

“— oh my god!” you squealed, immediately embarrassed at what you just did, only for Satoru to quickly hide you in his embrace, your face nuzzled into his chest.

“Looks like I’m not the one that’ll get in trouble by Sensei time,” he teased with his cheek placed on top of your head.

“Get me out of here,” you whined, “I’m so embarrassed…”

“Nah” Satoru cheekily smiled, tightly embracing you, “not until you give me a date.”

“You didn’t make the last shot stupid, Nanami did.”

“False, I assisted,” he stated after briefly calling out for one of his teammates, “If you weren’t so lovestruck by my handsome face, and actually saw my brilliant performance, then you would’ve seen the phenomenal play I had with Nanami.”

“Satoruuuu,” you whined, lightly stomping on your feet, getting increasingly squirmish from all the mess you’ve created.

“Told you,” whispering into your ear, “I’ll always win,” he stated before pushing his helmet over your head, reaching down to hold your hand as he led you out of the rink. The confidence in his walk looked almost arrogant, with you helplessly following, as he made his way to the lockers — a routined celebration after a game now as your boyfriend —

“Because you're my lucky charm, babe.”

author's note: if you made it to the end, thank you. i didn't expect a silly thought to lead to my distress about creating another au for him. But nonetheless, I hope you've all enjoyed ◡̈

#ae.writes #jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #darkmode.

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seresinhangmanjake · 4 months

Text

The Favorite

dad!Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

Summary: The Daggers meet your and Jake's baby girl for the first time and arguments over who will be her favorite aunt or uncle quickly follow.

Notes/Warnings: part of the Oh, Baby Universe, but can be read alone. Based on a suggestion from @tgmreader

Words: 1288

Between the ‘She’s like your clone, Jake,” from Nat, the ‘Is anyone else surprised Hangman beat us to the baby train?’ from Bob, and the offended ‘Wait, you two were hooking up and you didn’t tell me?’ from Javy, Jake is clearly exhausted. Not that he didn’t anticipate being worn out after introducing his daughter to his team, you both did, but the last forty-five minutes have far surpassed expectations.

Being confined in a room with the Daggers historically proves to have its drama—whether in the form of unnecessary argument or playful teasing—but with your new baby girl at the center of everyone's attention, drama has started to take on new meaning in the form of obsessively watching Eve as if she might start doing tricks or giving you both grief for not spilling every detail of your ‘sneaky, secret relationship’ before this moment. To your relief, though, they’ve steered clear of asking questions about your absence over the majority of the past year. They don’t push, knowing that information will be revealed with time.

“It’s just…” Mickey begins as his eyes snap back and forth from the baby to Jake, “...so weird.”

When you chuckle, Jake rolls his eyes. “It’s not weird,” he counters.

“It’s pretty weird, man. You’re, like, a dad.”

“Lots of people are dads,” Jake says as he runs his knuckle down the cheek of the infant in your arms—his new little love.

“Yea, but you’re the dad of Y/N’s baby.”

As Bradley snorts at the obvious, you look to Jake to check on the effect of Mickey’s unfiltered words. His eyes are on your face and you smile to soften the sudden twinge of uneasiness speckled amongst the various green flecks in his irises.

Though Jake has expressed mental security in his place within the lives of you and your child, you fear what might occasionally be running through his mind. The last thing you want infecting his confidence is the consideration that maybe this situation is weird, that maybe he isn’t meant to be the father of your baby because he wasn’t intentionally chosen for that role.

Eve wasn’t planned. You can’t change that. And the choices you made when you discovered your pregnancy are enough to have any man reasonably questioning himself. But there is no other man you want as your baby’s father. Jake is it. You’re pretty positive he was always meant to be it, because your brain refuses to picture another in his place.

Jake’s stare breaks when Bradley starts to speak. “We all knew how these two felt about each other, even though they were doing nothing about it,” he says, shooting you and Jake a smirk so quick it’s barely acknowledged before he looks back to the group of pilots. “I promise you guys, once it fully sinks in, it won’t feel so wild that they accidentally made a tiny human.”

Nat’s head snaps up from Eve, but her finger remains wrapped in the infant’s smaller ones. “When, exactly, were you given enough time for it to sink in?” There is suspicion in her tone. Then her eyes go wide. “Did you already meet the baby?” she asks before turning to you and Jake. “Did Rooster meet her before the rest of us?”

As if sensing the shift in the room, Eve lets out a little whine and starts to wiggle in your hold.

“Yes, Nat,” Bradley answers for you. You can feel the sass bubbling around him as his arms cross over his chest. “By a whole three days.”

“Three days matters,” she retorts. “It could be the difference that makes you Eve's favorite. The earlier the interaction, the better.”

“She’s only a few months old. You might still have a chance, Nat,” Reuben chimes from the sideline.

“Don’t bet on it,” Bradley snorts. His sass is so expertly conveyed you’re shocked his tongue doesn’t stick out to accompany his words.

You’d scold him if not for the fact that these two often enjoy ruffling each other’s feathers when the opportunity arises. It’s all in good fun, but sometimes, depending on the topic, the teasing aspect goes over their heads.

You suppose it’s flattering that being your child’s favorite is enough to cause a bit of an upset, but it’s wasted energy. Jake will be Eve’s favorite. The Father and The Favorite are not mutually exclusive, and you know in a room full of the people she loves most in the world, Eve will never fail to run straight into her father’s arms.

Nat, however, does not consider that inevitability as she carefully slips her finger from Eve’s to face the six-foot-tall brunet head-on.

Jake mutters a curse, fingers rubbing across his forehead.

With his hands raised, Javy takes a step forward as if to prevent a physical altercation. “Alright, everybody take a breath,” he says. The winning, cocky grin that has tempted a woman or two or thirty is spread across his face. Then he points to himself. “I'm going to be the favorite. I'm her father's best friend.”

“I don't think that guarantees anything,” Bob says, only to receive a scowl in return.

It’s then that Mickey throws his own name onto the ballot. “You know, if we base this on entertainment value, she’ll obviously like me best. I’m the funniest.”

“Also the most irresponsible,” Reuben adds.

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“Um, everything,” Nat clarifies as Bob nods in agreement. “For one, you’ll never be the babysitter.”

“If you were the babysitter you’d need a babysitter,” Bradley chuckles, patting Mickey on the back.

Bob clears his throat and pushes his glasses up his nose. “That is very true; it would be chaos. What baby Eve here could use is a calming presence, and that’s me, so–”

“I’m calm,” Reuben interjects, pulling a scoff out of Javy.

“You also come up with insane ideas that make everyone miserable,” Javy says. “What are you going to do, have the baby compete in challenges only to suffer through two hundred push-ups if she loses?” he asks. “I think that’s grounds for immediate disqualification.”

Reuben’s response is drowned out by the additions of each pilot arguing their case for favorite aunt or uncle, and you’re too drained from the last hour to attempt untangling voices.

Jake sighs and shakes his head before taking your hand in his and leading you out of the living room, up the stairs to where Eve sleeps. You’re thankful that, at some point, despite the noise filling the room where your friends remain, your little girl managed to fall asleep. As you place her in her crib, you glance at Jake.

He’s sitting on the loveseat on the opposite side of the room, one hand running down his face, the other reaching out for you. When you take that hand, he pulls you onto his lap, shifting around until you’re comfortable with your back leaning against the armrest. A palm draws a lazy line of warmth up and down your leg.

“You’re a trouper, Honey,” he says, eyes unmoving from your knee.

You chuckle. “It could’ve been worse.”

“We should’ve done it one at a time; single-file line. The last thing I wanted was for you to be overwhelmed.”

Sitting a little straighter, you reach up to cup Jake’s cheek and guide his face toward yours. “Jake, I wasn’t overwhelmed. I’m fine and so is Eve,” you promise him. “Besides, they’re my friends, too. I knew what we were getting into.”

Jake leans into your touch before turning his head to kiss your palm. “They’re all crazy,” he says.

“Yes, but they’re ours,” you reply. Then you nudge your head in the direction of the crib. “And now hers.”

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @b-bradshaw @memeorydotcom @ryiamarie @ateliefloresdaprimavera

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #top gun #jake hangman seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x y/n #top gun hangman #dad!jake seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fluff #tgm #tgm fic #dagger squad

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skzdarlings · 4 months

Text

mine ; lee minho x reader

original ask: requested by @tattywood. “Can you please do ❛ you're mine. you've always been mine. ❜ with Lee Know? I just know you’ll come up with something amazing! 🩶"

pairing: lee minho/reader content info: another pair of star-crossed lovers lol. reader is kissed by a different guy without her permission. possessive sex. unsafe sex. lots of biting and marking and grabbing. word count: 3700 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

You finally escape.

When the date is over and your supposed boyfriend leaves, you run out the back door. Your parents are distracted, waving goodbye to your boyfriend as he pulls away in his expensive car. They chat between themselves on the front porch of the family estate.

“Such a remarkable young man,” they say. “So wholesome. So intelligent.“

So rich, is what they really mean. Because he is not wholesome; he is a bully and a bigot at the best of times. He derides anyone he deems beneath him, which is just about everyone. He is also not intelligent, as true depth of intellect is revealed in conduct. Someone that cruel and ignorant is not intelligent. You have engaged in more stimulating discourse with birds.

But he is wealthy. Your parents picked him for you and have been forcing the relationship along, contriving dates without telling you he will be there, inviting him into your home, encouraging his empty and shallow affection. You encourage nothing, sitting stiffly whenever he touches you: an arm slung around your waist, a hand on your lower back, a kiss on the cheek.

Maybe you were naïve to think it would not escalate before its time, that you could bear it cordially until his interest withered and died. Foolish. He is not here for you but your name. He does not care how you feel. He does not care if you want him. He wants the money and connections and power, sharing a bed with your parents through you.

Today he cornered you when you were alone. He backed you into the wall and kissed you. An unwanted kiss is a disgustingly slimy thing, all tongue and teeth and the bad, unfamiliar taste of a vile man’s breath.

Your whole unlived life flashed in your mind’s eye. Every second was irredeemably awful.

So you run. Out the back door, to the garage, weaving around your father’s cars. Your old bike is hooked on its rack and you lift it down with some grunting effort. You are dressed for a date, wearing a pristine ivory dress your mother picked, white lace stockings, and delicate flats. It is not the ideal outfit for riding a bike. It is a pretty but flimsy thing. Summer nights are warm but there is a crisp breath on the wind as the sun sets.

But if you stop for even a second, even just to change clothes, even just to catch your breath, then you will never get away.

You swing onto your bike and escape via the back lane. It is a long ride across town but your adrenaline propels you onward.

It is very obvious when you have crossed into new territory. Across the park trail and over the railroad tracks is a different world. The houses get smaller, more ramshackle, junk piled around the fully abandoned abodes. Even the lived-in homes have old trucks and rusted goods stacked on their lawns. It is a consequence of impoverished anxiety, hoarding in fear of one day having nothing.

Indeed, a very different part of town.

Your parents are probably furious they cannot find you, but they will assume you ran to a nearby friend’s house. If they knew where you really were, which friend you went to see, they would surpass furious and venture all the way into horror.

But they are far away now.

You feel nothing but relief as the air changes. You know it is the chill of a summer night as the sky turns blue, but it convinces you the air is clearer. You exhale and feel as though you are releasing a breath that you have been holding all day.

Your journey takes you to a familiar yard. You remember the first time you ever visited, standing so small and uncertain on the front steps, waiting for a kiss you actually wanted.

A kiss that never came.

You park your bike against the side of the house. You walk up the front steps on shaky legs, weak from speedy riding.

You open the screen door to knock on the inside door. While you wait for an answer, you fiddle with your appearance, adjusting any evidence of wind-swept dishevelment.

Oh, you are so nervous. You were so hellbent on just getting here, you did not register any feeling beyond determination. But now you are standing on this porch in your flimsy white dress, the sun set, the day done. You are doing something you should have done a long, long time ago and suddenly fearing you are far, far too late.

No answer comes. You knock again.

Your stomach forms a pit you hope you will eat you whole. Is he ignoring you? No. The windows are shut, the blinds closed. He cannot even see you.

You take a step back. Even with everything sealed shut, you should be able to see a hint of light. The house is small, a single story. There are only so many places he could be.

He isn’t home, you realize, first with relief that he is not ignoring you, then with dejection. Of course he’s not home, you tell yourself. What were you even thinking? Silly girl. Riding all the way out here, expecting him to be sitting around and waiting for you. He has a life of his own. He probably doesn’t even think about you. You’re pathetic.

You know you are being a little melodramatic. Your emotions have been running at an extreme all day. They finally become too much to bear. You sit down on the steps and cry.

Some time passes. You eventually calm yourself enough to wipe your eyes. You feel the cold more acutely now, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth.

You are not sure what to do now. You refuse to go home, knowing what awaits you. You have nowhere else to go. Your future is murky, which is still more comforting than the vision of it when your boyfriend forcibly kissed you.

You sigh. You know if you wait long enough, your friend will come home and help you. Even if he doesn’t want you, even if he can be a bit standoffish at times, he has the warmest heart you know. You met doing volunteer work, in fact. You know he will help you like he would help anyone in need.

It does not mean you do not feel pathetic, curled up and shivering on his porch steps. You are debating a course of action when a truck rolls into the yard with a flash of headlights and a noticeably hiccupping engine. It pulls around the side of the house.

You stand and take tentative steps to follow. You are still and quiet as the rough rumble of the truck comes to a wheezy stop.

The driver door flies open. He jumps out, cursing. Your breath catches and all your hypotheticals dissipate in wake of the reality of him.

Lee Minho.

He is wearing his old, dusty leather jacket, something of a signature piece due its reliability. His jeans are torn at the knee, likely a legitimate tear and not a fashion statement, his old work boots a bit scuffed. He is a working man of limited means and nothing functional goes to waste.

He is beautiful as ever. Dark hair falls across his forehead and he pushes it back with a forceful rake, the softer pieces fluttering forward again. He has an athletic frame, but delicate features despite his near-perpetual scowl. When he does laugh, it is a hilariously boisterous sound.

He is scowling right now. Cursing to himself as he stomps around the beat-up truck. He wears a carabiner with a bundle of emergency tools, grabbing a miniature flashlight to guide his way. He props open the hood and starts rustling around inside. He curses again, then he puts the light away so he can reach inside with both hands.

You do not mean to startle him. You thought he might have seen you, observant as he is, but apparently the truck has him distracted.

“Minho,” you say.

You cannot see him too well in the dark, but you hear the distinctive thud of metal as he undoubtedly smacks his head on the open hood. He curses louder this time.

There is a small light on the side of the house. You step towards it at the same time.

He is rubbing the back of his head, frowning, but he comes to a total stop when he sees you. His eyes widen ever so slightly, his brows drawn in confusion. He stares intently at you.

“Hi,” you say.

He just keeps staring.

“Um. I was just in the neighbourhood,” you say. “I wanted to see you. I hope you’re doing well.”

He drops his arm and it swings at his side. He continues to stare at you, the furrow in his brow more intense.

“Right,” you say. You feel a catch in the back of your throat. Fortunately, you have cried all your tears and will not make a fool of yourself in front of him. More of a fool, that is. You want to say so many things but you cannot think of a single word that suffices.

I missed you so much, you think. I think about you every day. Have you thought about me?

It sounds so clingy and pathetic. Your boyfriend derides such women and their neediness. Minho is not a man like that, though. He has never spoken so disparagingly about someone. You know that, but the words catch nonetheless.

You exhale a shaky breath, looking aside at nothing.

“I’m sorry,” you finally say. “I probably shouldn’t have come here. It’s been months since we last spoke. I know we’re not really friends anymore. I just had no where else to go and I…”

“You were crying,” he says.

You look at him. His expression has not softened. It is still that same scrutinizing stare. His gaze is intently locked on yours, on eyes that must show the evidence of your crying.

You wipe your face quickly, embarrassed. Your gaze lifts when he takes a small step towards you. He reaches for you, as if he means to wipe your eyes himself, but then he catches the sight of his own hand, covered in black grease from the truck.

“Shit,” he says, and snaps his arm back.

“Minho,” you say, your heart fluttering just from the suggestion he was going to touch you. A small touch from him means more than anything.

“Princess,” he says, an old affectionate nickname for you, though he speaks it rather dryly. He is still frowning. “Are you hurt?”

“Maybe,” you say. When he reacts physically, his shoulders stiffening, you quickly add, “Not like that. Emotionally, I mean. I just… I think I ran away from home.”

“You think,” he says flatly.

“Well, I didn’t really think it through, to be honest,” you say shyly. “I just… I couldn’t stay there anymore. You know what they’re like.”

He flinches as if the memory comes with a strike. You feel embarrassed, remembering too.

You and Minho became fast friends through your mutual volunteer efforts. You thought nothing of inviting him to a neighbourhood party at your parents’ house. He wore his nicest shirt and fresh pants, but as soon as everyone found out where he came from, they wanted nothing to do with him.

You are embarrassed to say you did not even notice at first, naively taking politeness for granted. He had to explain it to you, then you saw their two-facedness everywhere and felt horrible.

You stayed on his side of town after that, at least until your parents put their foot down. They didn’t want you developing feelings for that kind of boy. You insisted he was just a friend, even while already in love with him. His biting wit and good heart had you in thrall.

You were in denial about your parents being bad people. You wanted to believe they had your best interest at heart. They were just set in their ways. They wanted a good life for you. You told Minho to just give them time. He let you go. They introduced you to your new boyfriend the next day.

Minho takes a breath. He shoves his tongue into his cheek, looking pensive. You are thinking of something to say when he nods his head.

“You look cold,” he says frankly. “Let’s go inside.”

You nod, following him to the front steps. He grabs the porch rail and jumps the steps in an effortless swing. You shuffle behind him while he unlocks the door.

He says nothing, just nods at you. You follow him through, closing the door while he bends down to unlace his boots. He kicks them to the side while you step softly out of your flats. When you meet each other’s eyes, you feel a spark.

You stood in this very spot a few months ago, almost nose to nose, arguing about your parents and what to do. You knew, deep in your heart, the conversation was not about a mere friendship. You both had stronger feelings, but you were both scared to act on them given your precarious circumstance. He did not want to risk everything while you were indecisive. You wanted to keep everything.

You have lived a life of great privilege and you are used to getting everything you want. You have had to confront reality, that you cannot always have everything.

So, if you can only have one thing, you want him.

He looks at you with the same dark passion as then. Your heart skips beats under his intense gaze.

“You’re here,” he says. Maybe the same memories flicker through his mind. He tips his head, looking at you so closely, like he cannot believe you are real.

“Yes,” you say softly, clasping your hands in front of you. “I’m here.”

“To stay,” he says.

“If you’ll have me,” you reply. Your heart is beating so hard, it is a wonder he cannot hear it. Your legs feel even weaker than before, but this time is has nothing to do with bicycles and everything to do with him.

He swallows, his throat bobbing. He sniffs and looks aside while idly tugging his jacket.

“And your boyfriend?” he says, glaring at the far wall.

Your heart sinks. It is your turn to swallow.

“You know about that?” you ask.

He laughs, not that gleeful sound you know but a sharp cackle. He looks at you incredulously.

“Of course I know,” he says. “I don’t always stay on my side of the tracks. Sometimes,” he speaks with sarcastic wonder, “I get to repair houses for the pretty rich people.” He huffs, shaking his head. “It’s fine,” he says. “You should be with someone like that. He’ll give you the house. The car. I bet your parents love him too.”

“I don’t want those things,” you say, bearing his bitterness because you understand what he is feeling. You lift your chin and look him in the eye. “You’re right, my parents do love him. But I don’t. He’s shallow and unkind. And you—” Your voice catches. “You, Lee Minho, are anything but that. You are everything. And I… I love you. I always have.” You drop your eyes with this confession, suddenly overwhelmed with the sheer emotion pouring out of his gaze. “I know it’s been a while,” you say. “I don’t expect you to have waited for me. I just—”

He laughs again. It is still dry, but not so sharp. You glance at him.

“Princess,” he says. “Don’t tell me you seriously think I could just forget about you.” He shakes his head. “It’s like you don’t even know me. I should kick you out just for that.”

You realize he is joking, the faintest hint of something warm melting his scowl.

“I can’t give you that life,” he says seriously.

You step towards him, holding his gaze, pouring as much emotion back at him. He exhales, blinking quickly, long lashes fluttering as he looks at you.

“I have no idea what we’re gonna do,” you admit. “But I know I want to figure it out. With you. And no one else.”

He smiles and it makes you smile. Then he reaches for you, but stops when he once more remembers his dirty hands.

“Shit,” he says again, then takes a step back. “Let me just—”

You take him by the wrist and yank him towards you. He follows your guidance, his breath catching when you plant his hand on your hip. It will leave a big black stain on your perfect white dress, the shape of his hand in a possessive grip on your body.

It is more effective than any word. He swoops in and kisses you, his other hand cupping your other hip with the same deliberate possessiveness. You are certain this horrid little gown will be destroyed and you do not care one bit. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back.

“You’re cruel,” he says between kisses. “Torturing me for so long. I wanted to kill that man. But I thought he made you happy—”

“He disgusted me,” you say. “He kissed me without my permission today.”

“What.” That stops the kiss and he looks at you with that scowl again. “I’ll kill him,” he says without any hesitation.

You just laugh a gentle laugh, shaking your head. You twist a longer tuft of his hair around your finger, making his tense shoulders go soft as he leans in.

“You don’t have to kill him,” you say. “Just make me forget him.”

Oh, Lee Minho is such an awful tease all the time. Of course he goes back to just staring at you with a contemplative air, making you wriggle and wonder in his arms. You whine his name, trying to kiss him, but he dodges it. Your whimpering makes him laugh, because of course it does.

Then he gets very serious. Your heart sends a bolt of heat shooting through your body. Your thighs press together.

He presses his forehead to yours. You gasp when you feel his fingers on your back, the careful slow touch as he tugs your zipper down. The flimsy dress slides off your body as he steps back to look at you. You shiver, gazing back at him. His stare is unflinching as he peels off his jacket and tosses it aside. His hands are already much cleaner, the distinctive print of his palms still plastered to your dress. He wipes the rest on his own shirt then tugs it off and tosses it to the side.

He smirks and wiggles two come hither fingers at you, walking backwards. You follow him slowly, then give chase when he cackles and runs. You follow him into the bedroom where he literally sweeps you off your feet.

“And you say I’m cruel,” you tease.

He closes the door with a firm snap then leans you against it.

“You are,” he says. He looks down your body while running his fingers through his hair. “You are.”

Then he gets on his knees, first one while he tugs your panties down, then the other, when he hooks your leg over his shoulder and put his mouth on you. He does not tease anymore, swiftly finding all the ways to make you moan his name. You are scared your leg will buckle under you when he makes you come, but he holds you steady.

Then he stands up and cups your face, kissing you deeply, making you taste yourself on his tongue. It is a good kiss, everything a kiss should be, hot and hungry, slow and deep. It makes you tingle with aftershocks, blinking at him with delirious pleasure when he pulls back.

Minho can be loud, can be boisterous, can be scathing. He can also speak gently, in such a soft, light rasp. It makes your head spin. He speaks like that now.

“This is how it is,” he says, then kisses you again, licks into your mouth. When you moan, he moans back. “I make you sigh,” he says. “I make your pussy wet. I make you come. Just me.”

“Yes,” you nod, clinging to him when he carries you to the bed. “You, Minho.”

He lays you down, kneeling between your open legs. They are still quivering from your orgasm. He looks at you, hungrily, while opening his belt. He rips it out of his jeans and tosses it behind him, then unzips while leaning down to kiss you. He dives past your waiting mouth to kiss your throat, biting marks under your jaw, on your neck, on your tits. You grab his head, hands in his hair, arching your back under his desperate mouth.

“You’re mine,” he says. “You’ve always been mine.”

He holds your hips while thrusting inside you. You imagine his hands leaving a permanent mark, just like that stained dress, a claiming that forever marks you as his. He fucks you so steadily and deeply, holding you possessively, gasping your name and how good you feel while he takes you.

“Perfect,” he says in that dreamy voice, rubbing you softly while fucking you hard. It makes you come around his cock, clenching tight, which makes him moan into your mouth. “Mine.”

You wrap your legs around him. You lay chest-against-chest, holding each other. Your nails scratch his back, no doubt leaving your own marks, your whole body littered with his kisses and bites. There is not a single inch of you that is not branded by him.

“Yes,” you say. “Always, Minho.”

Saying his name sends him over.�� He comes inside you, claiming you even there, then stays inside you after while you kiss.

You stay in his arms all night, making love and sleeping then making love some more. When the sun rises, you wake to him holding you, stroking your cheek affectionately.

He kisses your forehead and you nestle comfortably against him, happy to be home.

#lee minho x reader #lee know x reader #minho x reader #skz x reader #lee know smut #lee minho smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #valentinesdaystories #tattywood

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thatacotargirl · 1 month

Text

Shadows and Surprises (3)

Part 3 of Azriel x Reader fanfic! Enjoyyyy!

Summary: Azriel meets y/n at Rita's and spends a single night of passion with you before heading your separate ways. Only, the Mother had different ideas.

Warnings: vague mentions of family difficulties.

Tag list - @mirandasidefics @lilah-asteria @nyxbranwenn @nickishadow139 @dee-writes-smut @impossibelle @mybestfriendmademe

Y/N POV

You groaned as you dragged yourself from the bed, the knocking at your door more insistent now. You pulled the door open and gaped, seeing Azriel standing there behind it.

"Hi" he said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and nervous.

"Hi" you replied, holding the door a little wider open, a silent offering for him to come into your apartment. He accepted, his wings tucked in tightly to avoid knocking into you or the doorframe as he walked into your living room. The room was a mess - you never had the time or energy to clean it these days. When you weren't working at the bookstore, you were sleeping away your nausea and indigestion. You knew growing a baby would be exhausting, but this surpassed all of your expectations.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" you joked, leaning against the sofa edge to support yourself. You hadn't expected Azriel to show up at your apartment. In fact, you hadn't expected to see him again. It wasn't that you thought he was a bad male and would deliberately want to shirk his responsibilities - but he was responsible for the safety of an entire Court, and a baby likely wasn't in his plans.

"We need to talk", was all he replied. You stared at him silently, encouraging him to go on.

"I don't know what I am doing. It's not that I never wanted children, I do, I just didn't expect to have any at this time in my life. But I want to be there. I want to be involved. I know what it feels like to have a broken family and feel like a burden, like you're unloveable, and I don't want my child to ever question if I love them". He had tears in his eyes, and you realised there was probably a lot of unspoken, unshared pain behind them that you might never know. But it was enough. You had your own pain that you hadn't shared with him, and you couldn't expect disclosure from him if you weren't willing to return the gesture. Not yet.

You reached out to touch his arm in comfort and, much to your surprise, Azriel caught your arm before you could reach him and pulled you into his chest. You nuzzled in and he rested his head on top of yours, a deep sigh sounding in the otherwise silent room.

"We will need to plan logistics", he said into your hair, ever the pragmatist.

"Yes Mr Spymaster, we can plan logistics", you chuckle back.

"I'm serious", he says, pulling away to look at you. He scans your body from head to toe, and you realise he is surveying you. Taking an inventory. "I can see how tired you are, are you not sleeping? You know it's not good for the baby if you're not resting, right?".

You laugh, your heart warm at the fact that Azriel was suddenly so concerned for yours and the baby's welfare.

"Az, it's hard to sleep when you single-handedly run a business and a home", you gesture around yourself at the piles of dirty dishes, laundry, the thick layer of dust on the broken fireplace. Azriel's eyes followed yours, and you suddenly felt ashamed. Your apartment was far from perfect. Your landlord was quite the absentee, so your broken fire place had gone unfixed for several winters now. As had the poorly insulated windows, the kitchen sink tap which sometimes decided to spray you down when you turned it on, and the mould forming around the edges of the bathroom floor. Whilst your bookstore was successful, life in Velaris was still expensive, and you couldn't really afford much better.

"Then you move in with me", he said. You simply gaped.

"In your own room, of course", he added quickly. "You will have your own room and your own space".

"Az, I couldn't ask you to do that" you replied, pulling out of his embrace.

"You're not asking. I am insisting. I don't fancy showing up here one day and finding you rabid from a rat bite", you notice him glance over to a hole in the skirting board of your kitchen.

"It's not a rat, it's a mouse, her name is Daisy and she would never bite me", you retort. Admittedly, you didn't like sharing your living space with Daisy, even if you were somewhat confident that she wouldn't bite you. Somewhat.

Azriel only chuckled. "I insist", I will ask Rhys and Cassian to come and help move your belongings over to the House of Wind".

Rhys, Cassian, House of Wind. You were moving into the centre of the Night Court. Azriel felt your shiver.

"Don't worry, only Cassian and I live there. He will dote over you more than I will - he will carry you everywhere if you ask".

Cassian. Lord of Bloodshed. Commander of the Night Court armies.

Azriel could see the uncertainty in your face and pulled you back to his chest. "Relax, they are just normal people, I promise they will love you. Mor will be so happy to finally have another female in her presence she probably won't leave you alone."

"Mor?" you asked.

"Rhys' cousin and third in command" he replied. You could sense from his tense stance that there was some history there, but decided now wasn't the time to broach it.

"Ok", you sighed, "when do we make this happen?".

Azriel smiled. "Now".

Azriel's POV

After reaching out to Rhys, Azriel took y/n's hand and let her lead him to her bedroom to start packing. It was only about 10 minutes later that another knock sounded at the door, and Azriel opened it to see Rhysand and Cassian beaming behind. They both walked into the apartment.

"A new chapter, brother" Cassian said, pulling Azriel into a hug. Rhysand smiled as he watched them, giving Azriel a hearty pat on the shoulder. They both turned to the door of y/n's bedroom as they watched her appear, shyly holding a box of her belongings. Cassian was the first to approach her, giving her a huge smile and taking the box from her hands. Azriel noticed that Cassian's smile only grew wider when he looked down to y/n's stomach and saw the small swelling.

"Welcome to the family, y/n" he said, putting the box on the floor and offering his arms out to her. She stepped forward slowly into them, but seemed to warm into his embrace. He could almost feel her relief. Rhysand stepped forward, careful not to appear intimidating. Whilst Rhys had the kindest soul Azriel had known, his power was palpable, and capable of intimidating just about anyone. He saw y/n peer past Cassian at Rhys, who simply offered his hand to her. She accepted as Rhys brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the top of her fist.

"It is an honour to meet you, y/n", he said. Y/n blushed so deeply he had to withhold a laugh. Y/n mumbled something quite incoherent in response, which earned her a chuckle from Rhys.

"Let's get moving, shall we?", Cassian called out, holding onto the first of y/n's boxes and flying off towards the House of Wind.

It took a few hours, but eventually all of y/n's belongings had been moved into her new bedroom. Azriel watched as y/n took in the room. He had picked a room a few doors down from his, to give y/n her privacy, but to be close enough in case she needed anything. Cassian's room was a few doors the other way, so she was sandwiched between the pair of them. Azriel hoped that that way, if anything happened, one of them would be there to help.

"You are welcome to change the room however you wish", Rhys said, appearing in the doorframe. "Paint it, change the furniture, whatever you want - this is your room and you can do with it as you like".

"Thank you", y/n replied, breathless in wonder. The bedroom was almost the size of her entire apartment had been, and Az could see that she was starting to feel overwhelmed. He silently gestured for his brother to leave them and walked to y/n's side.

"Are you ok?", he asked.

"Yes", y/n replied, "just a bit shocked at how this day has turned out. It's certainly not what I expected. Who knew how much could change over an indigestion tonic". She laughed, but it sounded more hollow than normal.

"I'm sorry", Azriel said, his hand rubbing circles on y/n's back.

"What for?".

"I don't know. I just felt like a sorry was warranted right now".

"You're daft".

Azriel shook his head, hiding a smile that had crept onto his face. No wonder he had been enamoured with you that night. You were one of the few people who wasn't intimidated by him. Who spoke your mind to him. He appreciated it more than he would tell you.

"Mor and Amren are joining us for a family dinner tonight, but you don't need to come if you are feeling tired or not up for it. They will all understand and we can have your food brought up here".

Y/n looked up at him and gave him a small, watery smile.

"I think I would like that", she replied. Azriel couldn't hid his smile in response.

"Great, dinner is at 7, I'll leave you to have a rest now and come and get you to take you down to the dining room just before". With that, he departed, closing the bedroom door behind him.

Y/N's POV

I think I would like that.

WHAT.

You didn’t know what had come over you. Of course you wanted to meet Azriel’s family, eventually. But most females are wined and dined before being introduced to a male’s family. Then again, most females are wined and dined before having a male’s baby, so if anything, you were at least consistent.

Your new home was nothing short of show-stoppingly beautiful. Your bedroom, which was fit for a queen, followed a pearlescent theme, with light marble furniture. The walls, which were a shade of muted light gold, rivalled any room you had lived in before. Rhys’ offer to re-design the room was kind, but you’d be crazy to want to change a single thing. The bed, clearly designed for Illyrian wings, would fit 5 of you with space, and had the softest duvet you could imagine. It felt like stroking a cloud. You felt a momentary panic that you had, in fact, fallen asleep when you had intended to nap - and dreamt this entire encounter. You pinched yourself hard and yelped. No, this was very real. You hopped into the bed, and sleep took you immediately.

A soft knock at your door had you leaning up on your shoulders. You took a moment to remember your surroundings.

“Come in”, you called.

Azriel walked into the room and you had to force your jaw not to drop open. Clad in his Illyrian leathers, he looked devastating.

“It’s almost time for dinner, are you sure you’d like to join?”, he asked, taking in your bed hair.

“Yes, yes, sorry just a minute!”, you jumped from the bed and ran in front of the vanity mirror, smoothing down the knots that had formed from your tossing and turning. Azriel chuckled and walked over to you, reaching out to untangle a knot that had formed by the back of your neck. You froze as his hands brushed against you, gently pulling the hair free. When you looked presentable, you turned to face him and took a deep breath.

“You ready?”, he asked.

“Ready”.

#a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #azriel x reader

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zxoaii · 17 days

Text

Everyone but you

fem! reader x Mike Schmidt

Summary: Mike finally opens up about his soft spot for you.

WC: 4.8k

Warnings: NSFW 18+ (idk how to do this its smut)

A/N: I was already halfway through this when the votes tied for this and Peeta so let’s hope Peeta doesn’t surpass Mike

[ Y/n ]

“You know, you’re actually pretty weird.”

Mike looks up at me with an unamused look on his face. “I’m weird?” He takes a fry from my tray. I nod with my mouth full.

“I’ve never met a security guard who was as good looking as you.” My smile forces through mid-sentence. I can’t ever keep a straight face. Mike on the other hand can only keep a straight face.

He shakes his head at me and pulls his wallet out of his pocket. “Can you go get me some fries? Now I want some.” When he opens his wallet I catch a glimpse of a photo.

“Who’s that?” I reach out and grab his wallet. “That’s my sister, Abby.” He actually tells me. Mike omits most things about his life. “She’s cute. How old is she?”

The wallet is taken from my hands. “I’ll tell you if you go get me a large fry with some ketchup.” Our eyes meet for a moment. I’m the first to give in. His gaze always melts me.

“Fine.” I grab the five from his hand and get up from the table. As I make my way across the food court I glance at the clock on the wall.

Damn, I only have ten minutes left on my break. Sometimes I wish I had a reason to call security during my shift just so I could see Mike. He never really walks near the Victoria’s Secret.

I guess it’d be kind of weird if he lingered around it though…

“Hi. Can I just get a large fry please.” I look back at the table to check if Mike is still there. I’m not sure why I check like this when I leave. He always stays. And he always comes back too.

“Here.” The kid at the register hands me the receipt. “Thanks.” I take it and move off to the side to wait for the food.

Mike is a confusing guy. Most of the time I’m not actually sure if he likes me. He doesn’t smile or laugh. He doesn’t talk much either.

Maybe it’s obvious how smitten I am with him. I don’t think I could make it any more obvious. I drop hints for him like my life depends on it. He’s never really acknowledged or reciprocated any of them though.

“Large fry.” I grab the fries off the tray and a handful of ketchup packets. The crowds shift unpredictability. The food court is the worst part of the mall. Easily.

I shoulder my way through the crowd and weave through tables. “Here. Now, how old is she?” I drop into the seat and reach for the rest of my burger. “She’s six but she thinks she’s 16. That girl fights for independence like her life depends on it.”

Mike smiles a little as he talks about her. “You guys are close?” He doesn’t seem to mind talking about her. “Yeah.” Damn, I thought I’d get more than that.

“How much longer do we have?” Mike shovels his food. “Uhh… Five minutes.” A feeling of sadness actually washes over me.

“We should hang out after work.” That is the boldest I’ve been so far. It still doesn’t seem to faze him at all. “I can’t.” Mike takes one of my napkins to wipe ketchup off his face.

“Why?” The sting of rejection hits me hard. “I have to get Abby from school.” He looks back at the clock. “I can meet you somewhere after.”

“I don’t have anyone to watch her.” I’m taken aback by this comment. “What about your parents?” Maybe I’m prying too far now. “Look, if you want to do something you’ll have to come over to my place.”

Do something? I’d like to do a lot of something at his place. My stupid grin is too big to hide. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Mike nods and puts his trash on my tray. “I’ll meet you here and give you my address later then.”

I pull my sun visor down and open the mirror. Hopefully I don’t look slutty. Sexy but not slutty. He has a little sister. Maybe she’s actually his daughter…

That’s a bit of a stretch.

I check the time and shut my sun visor. My heart pounds in my chest. This is actually happening. I’m outside Mike’s house. About to go inside.

I used my employee discount to get a new lingerie set just for tonight. Not that I’m expecting anything or something like that… Just in case.

Mike doesn’t even liked being touched. Maybe he doesn’t like sex either. No, that can’t be it. Who doesn’t like sex?

It’s already five past four and I told him I’d be here at four. I turn my car off and step out. The small house has some random toys littering the front yard.

I make my way up to the door and ring the doorbell. Anxiety and anticipation fill my stomach. The door opens and I’m met with the brunette from his wallet.

 “Hi Y/n!” She greets me like she knows me. Mike rushes up and pushes Abby aside. “Go finish your dinner.” He mutters to her before turning to me.

We just stare at each other for a moment. Mike steps aside and I let myself in. “Take your shoes off.” Abby calls from the table.

I nod and discard my shoes by the door. There are three plates at the table. Oh god… He is her dad. Her mom is probably somewhere around here.

“I made you a plate.”

“What?” I turn to him, my cheeks heated with blush. “I didn’t know if you’d eaten yet so…” He gestures to the table. “No, I haven’t. Thanks.” I make my way to the table and sit across from Abby.

My plate is filled with mac and cheese and a hotdog. “Sorry… Abs requested this specifically. I would’ve made something nicer otherwise.” Mike sits down at the head of the table. “No, it’s better than what I would’ve had-”

“What were you going to have for dinner?” Abby pokes at her food with her fork. “Don’t interrupt.” She sends Mike an annoyed glance.

I shake my head and put my hands up. “She’s fine… I probably would’ve had some leftover takeout.” Abby nods and looks over to Mike.

I look over at him too, trying to understand what the exchange of glances means. Nothing is said or given away.

The two of them go back to eating like they had come to a silent agreement. I follow them and start eating the food on my plate.

“Y/n you’re really pretty. I hope I look like you when I grow up.” My face lights up. “Oh my god that’s so sweet. You’ll be prettier than me when you grow up. I’m sure of it.”

Abby turns to Mike again. I feel like I’m definitely missing something here.

The rest of dinner is filled with Abby talking about her day. She doesn’t mention friends. Or talking to anyone but her teachers. The only thing she really talks about is drawing. Mike looks at her like she’s the only thing in the world.

I wonder if he’s ever looked at me like that…

“Can I come with you to work on Saturday?” At this Mike actually rolls his eyes. “You know you can’t. I don’t want to do this tonight.” He takes her empty plate and goes into the kitchen.

Abby throws her head back and groans. I’m not working this Saturday. It would give me an excuse to see him… “I’m not working. I can watch her.” I blurt out.

Both of them stop and look at me. “Really?” Mike walks up behind Abby with his hands on his hips. God it shouldn’t be as sexy as it is. “Yeah, I don’t mind hanging out with you at the mall.”

Abby turns to face her brother. I can imagine the pleading look on her face. When Mike looks away with a sigh we both know his answer. I continue eating my food to avoid the annoyed look I’m being given.

I sit on the couch alone. The tv is on but my eyes linger on the hall. Mike went in to put Abby to sleep. I’m prepared for the lecture I’ll probably get when he joins me.

Hopefully he isn’t too mad about it though. When the door clicks closed I turn my attention to the tv. In my peripheral vision I can see him walk over to the couch.

“Want some popcorn?” He asks as he sits down on the other side of the couch. “No, thanks.” I look over at him. In his sweatpants and tee he looks like a fucking gift from god.

When Mike looks over at me I don’t bother to look away. Part of me wants to make a move. To finally find out if he wants me too.

“Y/n…” My stomach turns over as he says my name. “Yeah?” I find myself leaning in closer. “I… Abby can be a handful and I can’t pay you for watching her.”

My heart sinks in my chest. “Oh, that’s fine.” I slowly sink back away from him. The annoyance of this avoidance starts to build up inside me.

Does he want me? Does he not want me? Is it worth losing him as a friend if he doesn’t want me? What could happen if he says he does want me?

“Mike I’m interested in you.” I blurt out, not even looking at him. He turns to look at me. I avoid his eyes. The silence drags on for ages. With each passing second feelings threaten to burst out of me.

None of them good.

“I should go.” I quickly get up and head towards the door. As I pass him, Mike grabs my wrist. He stands up and tries to meet my eyes. I avoid him still. Tears threaten to fall.

I don’t need the rejection to be said. His silence was loud enough.

“Please. You don’t have to do this. It was stupid, if I’ve learned anything about you it’s that you hate everyone but your sister. That’s fine. I’ll watch her and-”

“Hate you? I don’t hate anything about you.”

At this point I’m so overwhelmed with contradictory feelings the only feeling that I can clearly feel is nausea.

“What?” Finally I look at him. My breath gets stuck in my chest. “I don’t hate anything about you.” He repeats. “You… Are everything. When I’m alone you are all I can think about. All I can want.”

I exhale a shaky breath. “You do things to me that drive me insane. You have had me since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

I’m left completely speechless. The only thing that makes sense is to pull him closer. I wrap my arms around his neck and smash my lips onto his.

Mike drops his hands to my hips. He pulls me in closer so our bodies are pressed against each other. Our kiss is lustful and desperate. Neither of us can get enough of each other.

We stumble around for a moment until my back hits the wall. His taste is intoxicating. Mike moves down to kiss my neck. I take quick and shallow breaths.

The heat pooling in my underwear is unbearable. I squirm under his touch. With one hand I grab his hair, I use the other to stifle my moans.

Mike pulls away from me and takes some deep breaths. “Is this ok?” He asks obliviously. “Don’t talk.” I pull him back in and kiss him again.

“Wait. Not here.” He pulls me with him into his room. As soon as the door is shut he pulls his shirt off. His toned body is better than I could’ve imagined.

My fingers trace the shape of his abs, sliding down toward his v-line. His heavy breathing drives me insane.

I reach down and lift my own shirt. Mike’s hands slide up my body and push it off me eagerly. “Fuck.”

The only light comes from the street lamps outside his window. It creates harsh shadows that define every inch of him. I reach down and slide my fingers into his waistband.

As our eyes meet I’m sure our intentions are the same. I remove the last of his clothes carefully. Mike steps out of his pants and pulls me over to his bed.

He sits on the edge and pushes me down into a kneel in front of him. Without exchanging any words I took his tip into my mouth.

“Ohh fuck.” His rough hand grabs the back of my head. My tongue works around his shaft. I use my hands to carefully rub what isn’t in my mouth. “Come on. You can take more than that.”

Mike’s hand puts pressure on my head. I sink lower on his cock, taking as much as I can. “That’s perfect. Good girl.” His hand slides off my head and down my back. My bra is unhooked and slides down my arms.

My hands work to undo my pants. As I pull my head back for air I work them down over my ass. Mike watches me through half lidded eyes.

He tugs his lip between his teeth as I lower my head again. The taste of his precum fills my mouth. My pants sit at my knees. As I try to reach down to relieve myself, Mike grabs my wrist.

“Don’t.” His voice is husky and demanding. I obliege and instead grab onto his legs. The sounds of my mouth fill the room. Mike’s quiet moans push me to do more.

My nails dig into his skin as his tip brushes the back of my throat. Nothing I’ve ever dreamt of compares to this. To the lustful look he has in his eyes.

Mike grabs my face to stop me. My desperation for anything for him shows out. As I sit on his floor with my pants half down and no top, Mike looks at me like I’m the only thing in the world.

“Stand up.” He demands. I slowly raise myself up from the ground. My pants fall to my ankles. Mike lifts my leg and removes my pants then follows with the other.

God his attitude has never driven me this wild. His lips caress my stomach. My fingers twist into his hair.

My hand clenches into a fist as his fingers brush against my core. “Jesus.” The feeling of his rough hands being so gentle with me drives me insane.

I know he can do so much more. I wish he would. “How’s this?” Mike’s finger brushes past my clit. “Good.” My voice shakes as I answer him.

“Just good? You deserve better than that.” His breath is hot on my stomach. I toss my head back as his fingers rub me harder. “Ah!” My hand covers my mouth to shut me up.

“Like that?” Mike kisses my belly. “Yes. God, don’t stop.” I roll my hips with his fingers. The feeling of hush tongue on my skin drives me crazy.

I want to taste his lips again. Not only that, I want him to just fuck me. A raw fuck would drive me insane.

“You’re so wet.” I look down at him, grabbing his shoulder for support. With his free hand Mike strokes himself. His lips tug into a smug grin.

“Give me more.” My pleads seem to get him off more. “Please. I don’t want to wait anymore.” I continue. “Fuck.” His fingers leave my body and with a swift motion and has me down on his bed.

Mike places himself over me. He leans down and presses his lips to mine in a needy kiss. Our bodies grind against each other.

We both want it so badly and simultaneously need this to last forever. This feeling of desperate lust.

“How many times have you thought of me like this?” I whisper as we pull away for air. “A million times.” Mike moves down to my neck, sucking on the bare skin.

My back arches up against him as his teeth add pressure. I have work tomorrow. I don’t bother mentioning it. I want everyone to know how hard I got fucked tonight.

Our make out session ends as abruptly as it started. Mike spreads my legs, holding my thighs apart. He looks to me for a moment. I nod back.

He adjusts himself until his tip is pressed against me. My hand grabs at the sheets. As he slowly thrusts into me, my grip tightens.

Mike’s hands press harder on my thighs. Strangled moans escape from my mouth. I fight to stay quiet. My body responds to him with pure pleasure.

“Jesus christ you were made for me.” His head falls forward between his shoulders. Mike thrusts into me at a steady speed. We touch each other like needy idiots.

My head digs into his pillow. I’m surrounded by him. His smell is intoxicating. His sounds are addictive. His touch is breathtaking.

“Mike.” I moan, reaching up to grab at his back. “Harder.” I hold him closer to me. Mike obliges and starts to fuck me harder.

“You’re so good.” He whispers, gripping my hip. How do we go back to normal after this? Do we? How do I keep my hands off of him after this?

“Turn over.” Mike pulls out of me with one sudden movement. I quickly turn onto my stomach. His hands grab my hips, pulling my ass up.

I dig my face into the pillow as I anticipate his penetration. When he finally slides back into me my moans are quieted.

“God, fuck.” He grunts as he builds back up to a steady rhythm. My legs start to slide apart with each thrust. Mike grabs them to steady me.

Warmth starts to build up in my stomach. I don’t want this to end yet. This hasn’t lasted nearly long enough.

My fists clutch his sheets again. I let myself moan more freely now that my face is in the pillow.

Our skin meets with a rhythmic clap. Mike tries to quiet it but doesn’t seem to care enough to change positions. Thank god.

I’ve never been fucked like this. I hope no one ever has the chance to fuck me again. This is it. No one could possibly be better than this.

“Are you close?” Mike groans. “Yes.” I choke out. “God your cunt is clenching around me.” One of his hands slides from my thigh to between my legs.

He presses onto my clit, circling his finger slowly. My whines start to creep out louder and louder. My orgasm builds up satisfyingly slow.

“Don’t stop.” I beg, laying my head in my arms. Mike continues with his movements. The feeling continues to build up more quickly now.

I feel Mike’s cock twitch inside me. His quiet profanities and grunts give away how close he is as well. I want to see his face as he finishes inside me.

“I want to see you.” My words come out more slurred than they should’ve. At first I’m unsure if he could even understand me.

Then in one swift motion Mike flips me over. His relentless fucking continues immediately after my back hits the mattress. Our faces are both damp with sweat.

His eyes lock with mine, his gaze piercing right through me. There’s nothing he couldn’t get from me. “You’re the most beautiful thing to ever walk this planet.”

I’m taken aback by his comment. Before I can respond my orgasm consumes my thoughts. My back arches up until we’re skin to skin again.

Mike slides a hand under my back, holding me tight. I sink my teeth into his shoulder to hold my moans in. “Fuck.” His grip gets even tighter. We both stay like this until our orgasms have passed.

I lay back down on his bed. Mike lays down next to me. We both stare at the ceiling while we catch our breath. I creep my hand over toward his. When our pinkies touch, Mike takes my hand in his.

“I like you so much.” He mumbles. “You don’t know how crazy you’ve driven me since I first saw you.”

My heart skips a beat in my chest. I turn my head to look at him. Mike looks over at me too. “I didn’t even think you liked me as your friend.” He did nothing to give it away. Ever.

“I don’t like anyone but you. You’re fucking mesmerizing.” He pressed my hand against his lips, kissing my knuckles.

If I’m dreaming don’t ever wake me up.

I lean in and kiss him again. His stubble contrasts my soft skin. The roughness he has is one of his sexiest qualities.

“Do you want to shower?” Mike whispers as we part. “With you?” My hand slides up to his shoulder. “I wouldn’t let you shower alone.” His smirk returns.

That fucking smirk. If he had flashed that at me any time before today I might’ve just grabbed him and kissed him right there. He doesn’t even know how sexy he is.

“I’ll go run the water.” Mike sits up and reaches for his clothes off the floor. “Here.” He slides his boxers back on then walks over to his dresser. I watch as he pulls out another pair of boxers and a tee.

“You can wear this.” As he drops the clothes on the bed he leans in closer to me. I meet him in the middle, pressing another kiss onto his lips. I’m desperate for his touch. Even after all that.

“Alright. I’m going to go get the shower ready… Come join me when you’re ready.” Maybe it’s too dark to see but Mike actually winks at me. Before I can ask him if he really did he’s leaving the room.

I collapse back onto the mattress. Jesus this guy is going to be the death of me.

#clapton davis #fanfic #josh futturman #josh hutcherson #mike schimdt x reader #mike schmidt #peeta mellark #sean anderson #the hunger games peeta #x reader #smut #fnaf au #fnaf movie

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charmercharm3r · 4 months

Text

Masterlist

prev: four, next: six

☆ﾟ

It was a good idea in theory. In reality, it was a shit show. Literally. Trips to Jeju are always fun, even if you’re supposed to be filming. However this time around you were informed that the group would be filming a parody of a popular dating show. Whose genius idea was that?

It would’ve been perfectly fine if your members were normal. To your pleasure or misfortune— it’s still unclear— they’re far from it.

There were no hitches the entire trip, traveling and the initial filming was as planned. You were assigned the role of a host while the boys were to be “dating” amongst one another. They followed direction as best as you could ask for with their limited attention spans, jumping from conversation to conversation and even getting in some teasing as the cameras continued to roll. You could already tell a lot of film was going to get cut seeing as they tended to get sidetracked into talking about incredibly personal details.

The “first dates” were going as you expected, you were instructed to go around and give them interviews to provoke more conversations when they started to fall quiet. Seungmin was indifferent the entire time while Felix tried to keep it as lively as possible, no doubt the former doing it on purpose. Jeongin and Jisung didn’t really even need you there as they practically forgot you even were— in their own little world. You got lost in the orchard when looking for Hyunjin and Minho, breaking the fourth wall a few times to ask the crew member on where to go, eventually giving up and wandering on your own for a little too long. Only to find Chan and Changbin sitting and have what looked like a normal conversation— they didn’t need much help either.

The looks of surprise and betrayal was fun to witness as they regrouped to pick who was riding with who to go to dinner. You got to pick whose car you rode in once they finished, and decided on Minho and Felix’s car.

Minho drives fast, which is even more fun when he takes off the child locks in the backseat and rolls down the window for you. You and Felix stick your heads out the window as he surpasses the other three cars, the both of you hollering at them with joy and barely catching a faint smile on Minho’s lips when you sit back again.

Everyone, including you, forgets that you’re supposed to be filming during dinner and goes silent as you eat. Until Hyunjin speaks from across the table, “Y/N’ie, I thought you were supposed to interview us earlier. Did you think we were so hopeless as a couple that you decided not to?”

His question threw you off, totally unexpected as your mouth was full. Half chewed and half hearted, “I got lost.”

“What did you say?” Jisung called at the other end.

“You got lost?” Chan chuckled at your right, the confession sending him and Hyunjin into a fit of giggles. The information eventually made it to the other side of the table and the rest of them erupted into giggles as well.

“It wasn’t my fault! Why were you two so far away?” You turned the attention onto Minho and Hyunjin, who shared an amused look.

When both of them simply shrugged, Changbin stepped in, “that’s okay. I would’ve stayed up all night looking for you if you got lost.” He beat his palm onto his chest and jutted his chin out with a nodding smirk.

“That’s nice, but you’re supposed to be interested in each other. It wouldn’t be a good look for the show—“ you gestured to the surrounding cameras— “if you showed more interest in the host than in the contestants.”

“But the host is always the most attractive one!” He exclaimed, throwing his spoon down. Your eyes widened in confusion of where this sudden infatuation came from.

You looked at your manager standing by one of the center cameras, he was laughing just as hard as the members, “I don’t remember this being part of the script.”

“It’s not a script!” Changbin’s chair scraped against the floor as he abruptly stood. “These are my true feelings! Do my feelings look like a joke to you?!”

None of the others were going to help you now, they all avoided eye contact and kept their mouths shut as you sought out a scapegoat for Changbin’s bombardment of affection. “If I say no, will you sit down?”

“No!”

Then it hit you, play along.

Your chair almost toppled back when you took to your feet, Chan stuck his hands out to catch you just in case. “Then yes!”

Jeongin let out a small, “what is happening?”

“You’re a joke!” You replied back to Changbin with feigned anger. “You broke my heart! Then you come on my show to rub it in my face!”

Everyone at the table was suddenly invested in where this was going. You glanced over at your manager and he waved his hands as though throwing up a white flag. Green light.

“Do you want to humiliate me? Is my pain funny to you, Seo Changbin?”

“I didn’t want our relationship to end but you pushed me to it! You forced my hand!” He shouted at you for two seats down.

“Everyone,” you dramatically looked the other members directly in the eye, “he cheated on me.”

Gasps erupted throughout the restaurant, including the staff playing into the story. They spoke over each other, everyone trying to get their words in as Changbin’s mouth dropped to the floor in shock. You forced yourself to repress a smile seeing the disbelief on his face, his reaction much funnier when he broke the fourth wall to look at your manager as well.

How could you’s and shame on you’s echoed throughout the restaurant, Hyunjin’s words particularly catching your ear.

“Cheating is unforgivable, how disrespectful. I could never be friends with anyone who cheats on their significant other,” his serious tone drawing in the rest of the table above all the jokes spewing about, all eyes on him now.

“Care to explain more, Hyunjinnie?” You and Changbin sat back down and gave him the floor to speak.

Hyunjin cleared his throat, “I can’t stand it. Just break up with them. If you truly cared about someone, you’d never, never treat them with that level of disrespect, even if you’re on bad terms.”

He was clearly upset now, arms crossed across his chest and looking down at his bowl. No one really knew what to say as his emotions were much more intense than the previous vibes of the dinner. As the host and since it was your fault the topic was brought up, you comforted him, “I agree with you—“

But Jisung adds fuel to the fire before you could continue, “I have something to confess.” Everyone turns to him. “I saw who Changbin cheated with. I caught them together.”

More gasps, fists slamming on the table, angry exclamations demanding to know more. “It was…” he paused and looked around the table, then stuck his finger in the direction across from you, “Hyunjinnie!”

Faking a faint, you fell back into Chan with a hand over your forehead. The oldest wrapped his arms around your neck and shielded you from the subject of the incoming yelling match. There wasn’t much you could really understand as everyone spoke over one another for the billionth time that night. When he released you, you faked wiping tears as Hyunjin went mute with his mouth agape.

“Any last words before we,” a fake sniffle, “move on?”

“I DIDN’T KNOW! I PROMISE!” He came over to your side of the table and fell dramatically to his knees, taking your hand and placing your palm onto his cheek.

“What are you doing, get up.” You tried to take your hand back but he only held on tighter.

“Say you forgive me.”

“You need to be on a drama with how dramatic you are,” you joke, trying to divert your attention from how tightly he held your hand made your tummy warm.

“I won’t let you go until you say it!” His eyes were beaming up at you with sparkles so bright, even the stage lighting wasn’t nearly as blinding. Part of you felt like he was apologizing for something he truly did to wrong you, you almost fell for it.

“Fine, fine! Forgiven. Get up and finish your food.” Hyunjin quickly kissed the inside of your palm, unsure if the cameras actually caught it, and went back to his seat.

Conversation shifting to something you weren’t paying attention to, lo and behold, your mind wasn’t nearly as focused as it should be. There was more screaming and yelling, mostly Changbin and Jisung, and you couldn’t even laugh with them because you were internally battling with yourself about his fucking eyes. Hyunjin’s eyes and how sincere they were, how soft and patient and agonized they seemed to be about a situation that was purely for show. It caught you so far off guard that when the members continued with the skit, you let them take the reins to do whatever they wanted.

By the time it was time to choose cars to head home, you were just going with the flow, not caring about the show anymore. What you needed was an ice cold bath. A freezing shower to get rid of the heat in your cheeks whenever Hyunjin’s gaze would linger on you for half a second longer.

That was exactly what you did as soon as the cameras were off and you were back at your hotel room. You rushed off to be alone and get rid of all the stupid thoughts that made your head dizzy because what the fuck?

It wasn’t like you were touch deprived, your members were practically an extension of your physical self. It was just the way he looked at you. Why were you so upset over a look? He looks at you every day, nothing new. You were looking back at him. Straight into his eyes. He was on his knees. Your hand was on his cheek. He was nuzzling his face into your skin. You almost leaned in. His lips looked so kissable. He did kiss you— your hand, at least.

Oh, it’s fucking over for you.

Knock, knock, knock.

The consistent rapping on your hotel door shocked you enough to pull you from the butterfly inducing realization. Just a robe on and hair still dripping, you rushed to check the peep hole to find the one person you didn’t want to see standing outside.

“Why’re you here?” You said a little colder than intended.

Hyunjin scoffed and held up the bag of chips and soda, “what a rude way to greet someone bearing gifts.” He pushed past you and threw the snacks on the bed along with himself. “Go get dressed, they have Netflix on the TV.”

You didn’t even have the will to say no, doing what he asked and changing into comfy clothes. Big sweats and a baggy hoodie seemed decent enough, and so did standing at the foot of the bed while he was sprawled out, clicking through the different movies. “What are you doing here?” You finally asked.

“Hanging out?”

“Obviously. Why?”

“Am I not allowed to hang out with you?” He had a point. “You were also really quiet at dinner.” Frowning a little, you sat at the foot of the bed and took the bag of chips. Admittedly, they hit the spot, he knew they would and smiled to himself when you visibly relaxed.

“That one,” you spoke again as he hovered over the movie you’d been telling yourself you’d watch when you had the time. Well, now you had nothing but time.

Cross legged and still on the edge of the bed, munching away while fully invested in this terrible movie, Hyunjin admired the way you’d copy the actress’s slight body movements when she was around the love interest, as if you were taking notes. Tilting your head, sitting up a little straighter, leaning your head on your palm, or tucking your hair behind your ear. It was utterly adorable and he loved being able to see you like this. Somehow, you forgot he was even there until the bed shifted behind you.

Suddenly there was heat, too much of it. You were suffocating with the obvious fact that you were not alone and haven’t been for the past hour. Hyunjin’s arm was bumping against the back of yours, seemingly innocent.

“Are you gonna share?” He said, chin brushing your shoulder as he gestured at the mostly empty bag of chips. You didn’t say anything, only holding it in his direction. His hand encased yours to bring it even closer to him, making your fingers almost shake with anxiety. It was nothing. Literally nothing. But it felt like everything.

“Open,” he commanded for the second time tonight. When did he get so close to you? You could practically smell his shampoo and body lotion. Dumbly, you faced him slightly and opened your mouth enough for him to slip a chip into it. Then unexpectedly, his fingers tipped the bottom of your chin up to close. “Chew before you swallow.” Your eyes followed his hand as it retreated, leading up to his own gaze that was already staring back.

The sound of your swallowing was comically loud, you wished the ground would open up and eat you whole. “I don’t want to kiss you,” you rushed to say.

Hyunjin smirked, amused. “I don’t want to kiss you, either.” His actions contradicted his words as his face unnoticeably inched forward. Warmth was swirling around you now, his shampoo, his lotion, his skin, his clean clothes, his left over toothpaste— “your breath smells like chips.”

There it was. Butterflies gone. You shoved him and his stupidly smug smirk harshly back by his chest and he thumped back into the bed. Immediately, you ran into the bathroom to rinse your mouth with mouthwash before coming back and attacking him. You were slamming the soft pillow into his body without so much as a complaint. More so, he was laughing, not even a wince because it didn’t phase him at all. It wasn’t enough. He didn’t get it.

Moving into a stronger position, you went from standing at his side to trying to hop over him onto the available bed space, failing miserably and flopping onto him instead. Chest to chest, practically straddling him, Hyunjin gripped your waist to keep you from falling off the edge. That also meant there was no where to run. “Now I really don’t want to kiss you.”

“But I really want you to.” His hands keeping you in place, the proximity, minty fresh breath— from you, at least. Your hand drifted to his face, ghosting fingertips up along his cheek to push his hair from his face. Another thing for the second time that night, he leaned into the touch, enjoying it much more than he should.

This felt like the right moment, right? This was how that girl did it in the movie. She did all those steps, the lean in, touch the cheek, brush the hair, what came next?

It was the actual kiss, the one part you couldn’t get yourself to initiate. It’s been too much teasing him, perhaps if you only just gave in a little— a slight graze of your lips against his, that’d be the ultimate power move. Payback for the emotions he made you feel earlier this evening. Just close enough to make his eyes flutter closed, make his breath hitch, make him pucker and wait for you to close the distance and feel one another for the first time.

That’s exactly what you did, and fuck, was it hard not to cave. His soft breath and pillowy lips, you almost did.

Knock, knock, knock. “Y/N’ie, can I use your hair drier? The outlet in my bathroom doesn’t work.”

Saved by the fucking bell. Hyunjin audibly groaned, annoyed that his perfect moment was once again stolen from him.

You quickly pushed off of his body by his chest and rushed to open the door, stroking your hair flat and revealing Jisung on the other side. He immediately went into your bathroom, not noticing Hyunjin on the bed lobbing his head back with frustration.

“Han Jisung, you’re the worst. I was so close! Couldn’t you have waited two more minutes?!”

Jisung, frightened by the unknown voice, peaked around the doorframe and saw the other boy. “Oh, was I interrupting something?”

“No—“

“Yes!” You shook your head with emphasis, holding up your hands like waving a white flag.

Everything else happened so fast. One second you were standing next to Jisung and the next, Hyunjin was rushing over to the both of you saying something along the lines of, “give me my kiss!” You had pulled Jisung in front of you without really thinking about it and put him into Hyunjin’s line of fire. The two smashes foreheads at the fast pace the older moved, both crumbling to the floor in pain.

With the way the night started, this was a solid way to end it— watching your two friends rolling around the floor in pain as you laughed your ass off at their idiotic tendencies. Then them proving said idiotic tendencies as one tried to— hopefully playfully— strangle the other, in which you don’t know who started all the rough housing, you’re just there to patch them up when they’re done.

☆ﾟ

A/N: don’t ask me where i’ve been idek LMAO. this is so bad im really trying to start writing again pls bear with me

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lovings4turn · 3 months

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જ⁀➴ 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋 . . . (𝐆. 𝐑.)

— two things are definite: you like george, and george likes you. unfortunately, you two seem to be the only ones who don't see it.

+ part of my 'be my valentine' mixtape series ! love this song and i was so excited to use it for a george fic, so i hope you enjoy <3

“oh mate, you’re joking.”

“shut up!” george huffed, running the palm of his hand down his face in exasperation. “it was not that bad.”

he could defend himself all he liked, because in spite of that, george knew it really was.

this was possibly the third time this month that george had fumbled his chance to ask you out, and alex was beginning to grow tired of his friend’s constant pining and lingering stares.

“here’s what you’re gonna do,” alex said, his voice growing more serious as he looked george dead in the eyes. “you’re gonna ring y/n, and you’re gonna tell her you forgot something at her place. a shirt, socks, anything.”

"but i haven't?"

"not the point," alex groaned. "you're gonna tell her that, so you have an excuse to turn up there. this is your chance. don't be a stupid. tell her you think she's cool, that you like her, something to charm her."

george still wasn't convinced. his brows were pinched together as he ran over alex's plan in his mind, able to find a thousand different ways it could go wrong for him.

"right. and what happens when she realises that i haven't actually left anything there, and i just look like a massive twat for showing up?"

alex wasn't sure that he could take any more.

"mate, you can't just sit around and wait for some sort of fairy tale ending to come out of nowhere for you. at some point, you're just going to have to confess to her."

though he was being assertive, alex was still trying to be supportive, laying a hand on george's shoulder and delivering a friendly pat of encouragement.

"i can promise you she's probably thinking the exact same thing right now, anyways."

george scoffed, his answer hanging in the air unspoken. as if.

unbeknownst to george, alex was a lot closer to the truth than even he may have realised.

the events of the afternoon were playing on a loop in your mind as you tried to dissect every last piece of your interaction with george, from how he'd greeted you - a brief side hug and a smile - to how he'd said goodbye - a weak effort to get you to stay and a silly, yet endearing, wave.

was this your life now? driving yourself mad over even the smallest little details, all because of some stupid feelings?

when you'd first started developing somewhat of a crush on the mercedes driver, you made a promise to yourself that it would never become a thing. and you had kept that promise for roughly four months, until you made a huge error: revealing your feelings to someone else.

ever since you had let it slip to a friend that you actually quite liked george in ways that far surpassed the platonic label, you'd been - for lack of a better phrase - absolutely fucked.

now you had people to fuel your delusions, try to convince you that george had to feel the same way, and no, of course he wasn't just being polite when he offered you his jacket, you fool. outside interference and reassurance should have made you more confident in your feelings, maybe even push you to confess, but instead they'd had the opposite effect.

the weight of the word 'hopeless' in hopeless romantic had really started to resonate with you. though you weren't allowed to dwell on your misfortunes for too long.

some may have chalked it up to fate, some may have attributed it to a divine power wanting to laugh at a poor mortal, but whatever the reason, your phone rang with an incoming call from george.

the stupid candid photo you’d taken as a contact picture flashed up on your screen, and the automatic smile that painted your lips made you want to yell in frustration.

"y/n, hi!"

pathetic was the perfect word to describe you, thanks to how utterly gone you were for george, as the mere sound of your name leaving his lips was enough to make your heart jump.

"sorry, know i only saw you a few hours ago, but i just remembered that i think i left one of my mercedes shirts at yours when i was there the other day."

you didn't even think twice about it, why would you? george had left countless items at your place in the past, and he would leave more in the future.

"no problem. y'can always come by and get it, i'll try and grab it for you."

george's chest ached at how ready to help you were.

"yeah? you're a lifesaver, y/n, really. i'll set off now, should be there in about fifteen minutes."

brief 'see you later's were exchanged, and the moment you set your phone down onto the coffee table, your hunt began.

you didn't recall seeing one of george's shirts anywhere around, but previous mishaps had enlightened you to the fact that things could turn up anywhere. you'd thought that the shoes buried right underneath your bed were odd, until a sock turned up in your bread bin a few weeks later.

nothing was off limits anymore.

yet, somehow, no matter where you looked, you couldn't find the fucking shirt. frustration slowly nibbled at your mind, the sound of a knock being the only thing to break you from your frantic search.

an annoyingly attractive george russell greeted you when you swung open the front door.

in all of the years he'd known you, george thought this was the most adorable you'd looked.

your hair was in disarray, the strands unkempt as though you'd been running your hands through it over and over again. your face shone a little, and you were clearly a little out of breath, if the small, panting gasps you took were anything to go by.

your apartment was a mess, and george quickly realised that you'd turned your entire place practically upside down to try and find a shirt that wasn't even there in the first place.

guilt began to bubble up in his throat, and george hoped that, after today, it would all be worth it. he only had one chance, and he wasn't going to fuck it up.

before he could allow doubt to creep into his mind and sow seeds of regret, george lifted a hand to cup your jaw. the feeling of your soft skin against his palm elicited a gasp to slip from his mouth. the parting of his lips provided you with the perfect opportunity to meld your lips together in a chaste, sweet kiss.

feelings went unspoken, for now. time would grant you the chance to properly word every last affection you harboured for one another at a later date.

besides, george was a firm believer that actions spoke louder than words, and this kiss was living proof.

george forced himself to pull back, his forehead resting against your own, and he believed that to die like this would be a blessed fate. because you were definitely going to kill him when you found out the truth.

"i lied, by the way. there was no shirt," he mumbled, blue eyes meeting yours with a wince.

"you fucking dick."

#.° ༘🗝️⋆₊ becca’s drabbles #𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 becca's 'be my valentine' special #george russell #george russell x reader #george russell x you #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 x you #formula one x you

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scrubbinn · 15 days

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Slime HRT Day 1: First Pages

I was told I should write down my experiences in this journal. I'm only really doing this because I was told I didn't have to share my writings with anyone except for emergencies, whatever that means. Today is the first day of my new life, and becoming something not human anymore.

I've seen a lot of social media about species HRT. I think it’s supposed to be “Human Removal Therapy”. There’s a lot of people online bashing it, and I'm sure someone is going to try and ban it eventually, but for right now it's pretty unrestricted. To be honest, I am fascinated by it. Becoming something inhuman seemed so, I don't know, cool I guess, but it felt distant, like it would never happen to me, or I'd be labeled a freak by my friends. It was only until my girlfriend brought it up in a passing conversation that I gained the courage to admit I was curious about it. She said I should go for it. The amount of joy I felt then and there was like a 20 ton weight had just exploded out of my chest, but in a good way! We spent the rest of the night talking about treatments and articles, I never felt so happy except then and there, to be seen like that.

My legs were shaking when I met with that doctor. I was told it was normal to be nervous, but it really felt like I was going to just have a breakdown the entire time we talked. There was a lot of psychological exams and way, WAY too much paperwork that basically said I was sure I would be happy and cool with going through with this process. The doctor was patient at least, though he was rude with how little he tried to hide the boredom of his job. Besides that, there was something about him that just made him feel like this was the last thing he wanted to do, the kind of man who’s a total pushover. We eventually got to the question I was dreading “what was I here for, what am I looking to be?” My voice just suddenly stop working right there. It's so funny how I saw an actual dragon on my way here and somehow my request seemed so much more ridiculous. That stupid doctor kept prying me to just tell him until my frustration surpassed my anxiety, and I was able to blurt out that I wanted to be a slime.

I don't know when or why, but I've always liked the idea of slimes. It's their fluidity I think. Being able to morph myself the way I want whenever I want. I mean, how can I trust I'll be happy with my body shape everyday when I can't even pick a favorite color. I spent so much time writing out my own ideas of how their biology worked, or creating a bunch of slime girls for stories I never finished writing. It took me a while to realize I wanted to be just like them, like how it took me a while to realize I wanted to be a girl too.

I thought I'd get laughed out of his office, I mean I've seen the photos and stories of people on slime HRT but it just felt different, like I was going one step too far, I was probably just super anxious, I felt so relieved when he just showed me a list of slime variants instead of laughing. There were so many different options on the list, slimes made of just gel, sap, wax, and there were so many different colors, but that was the problem, they all felt right, I wanted to be any of them.

It was so selfish to ask, but I needed to know if a slime that could change color was possible, or something that could truly transform into any kind of slime. He asked what I meant, if I was looking into becoming a shapeshifter. I shook my head no and said I wanted something like a chameleon. He took off his glasses and pinched his nose, like the weight of every request he ever had just hit him. We, kind of, argued for a while. Well it was him telling me all the different reasons it wouldn’t work or how some people had set up safe LED strips to become a slime strobe globe of different colors, but for some reason it was the one thing I didn’t want to budge on. The one thing I was certain I wanted was that I wouldn’t be certain about my final choice. I was actually ready to just punch this old man until he suddenly folded to my demands and told me he'd need time to make a new variant for something like that. Something about a membrane and chromatophores I think. He also stated, bluntly, that I still needed to pick the type of slime. Being able to switch from red to blue is one thing but there needs to be a base.

There were a lot of good options, to the point it took me an hour to go through everything and just think about it. I was probably pushing him a bit too close to his next appointment with how long I was searching through options. It certainly makes me wonder how anyone can just know the answer right away. Eventually I had to settle on one and chose the soap variant. I was told it wasn’t actual soap, but it smelled nice and helped deal with germs. I’m not a germaphobe but I like the idea of smelling nice all the time.

After that, I was told I would be contacted eventually when my medication was ready. The wait could be best be described as brutal. There were a lot of calls I made only for me to be told it wasn’t ready yet. I thought I got scammed, like I went to the wrong place and that quack doctor was just faking everything and I wouldn't ever get to be the real me. The most I got was a message once a month saying the research was going well, if I was lucky.

It was about a year when I got a call back from him, explaining that my medication was ready. I'll be honest, I thought he wouldn't have ever completed it and just stole $600 out of my bank account for a single appointment. I have it now though, a bottle of gel capsules. They taste awful, like shoving soap into my mouth, which makes sense thinking about it. Apparently I won't need to take my normal hormone medication after a bit. Which is good because it's really expensive to pay for both. I guess that concludes my thoughts on the first day. The doc wants me to keep writing down my physical changes but also that I write down my emotional state as well. I don't really get why that’s so important, but whatever, it’s the least I can do if I finally get to be the slime girl I always wanted to be. I can't wait to see how I turn out.

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

Thank you for reading through this story. While I’m sure it’s obvious, this is a story inspired by @ayviedoesthings own Dragon HRT as well as @welldrawnfish Fish HRT. I’ve loved these stories ever since they first came out. But I never felt like I had a story of my own to write until I read @sandyca5tle own slime HRT. Please check out all these people’s stories if you haven’t already, and thank you to sandyca5tle for really lighting the fire in me that made me want to try my hand at this sort of thing. I have plans to continue this for a while, not sure how long it’ll be but I want to be able to write a new segment at least one post every one to two weeks. I hope you enjoyed this, and please let me know if you have any advice on how to improve my writing. Thank you so much for reading all this, seriously, it means the world to me.

#slime hrt #slime girl #species hrt #animal hrt #transgender #original writing #dragon hrt #fish hrt #fiction writing #gender fluid #monster girl

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sorcerersandskillusers · 11 months

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Odasaku's last words were exactly what Dazai needed to hear. And were the ONLY thing that could have freed him from the Mafia and, set him on the path to the light

“You should know this yourself. No matter whether you’re on the side of killing people or saving people, there will never be anything that can surpass your mind. There is no place in this world that can fill your loneliness. You will linger in the darkness forever.”

I've seen lots of people complain that Oda is being too cruel here, that he is destroying Dazai's hope that he could be better. BUT ITS THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE! The next paragraph in the light novel shows exactly why.

At this moment, Dazai realised for the first time.

Odasaku understood him far beyond what Dazai had ever thought. He had already reached close to his heart, the place near the centre of his heart. Before this, Dazai had never noticed there was someone who understood him so well.

For the first time in his life, Dazai wanted to know something from the depths of his heart. Hence, he brings up the question to the person before him.

“Odasaku… I… What should I do?”

Dazai truly believes deep down, that he is fundamentally broken; that he is not a human being, he is terrified of any hope that he might be able to find a reason too live because everything he wants is lost to him the moment he attains it.

If Oda had said "Dazai, you can be a good person if you try" or "Your human just like everyone else" Dazai would not have accepted it, he might have tried for Oda's sake, but he would not have seen how deep Oda's understanding of him was and thus would not have asked him that crucial question:

“Odasaku… I… What should I do?”

It's because Oda understands that Dazai cannot except his humanity that he can set Dazai on the right path. He does not tell Dazai that he will find a reason to live if he saves people, because Dazai would never believe that. instead he tells him that it will be a little more beautiful, which Dazai can hold onto and follow, and hopefully find that reason to live himself, without Oda telling where it can be found.

“Since both sides are the same, become a good person. Save the weak, protect orphans. Regardless of whether it’s justice or evil, to you, there isn’t a big difference between the two… But, doing that would be better.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know, I know this better than anyone else.”

Dazai looked at Odasaku’s eyes.

Odasaku’s eyes were filled with conviction. The words were clearly said with some sort of strong basis. was it past experience? Or perhaps someone’s suggestion? —He was trying to show Dazai the path he once walked. Dazai understood this.

Dazai could trust it.

“I understand… I’ll do that.”

Oda understood Dazai, deeply and truly, better then anyone else ever has and maybe ever will. His description of Dazai shows that perfectly:

"He's sharp witted with a mind like a steel trap. And he's just a child━a sobbing child abandoned in the darkness of a world far emptier than the one we're seeing."

He saw him for both the genius he is and the child he pretends not to be, and was the only person to ever reach both half's of Dazai's soul, he was his friend, simply and truly. The only one he ever had.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai osamu #bsd analysis #dazai #the dark era #bsd dark era #the day i picked up dazai #bsd dazai #odasaku #bsd odasaku #bungo stray dogs odasaku #oda sakunosuke #bungou stray dogs character analysis

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claudemblems · 1 year

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Being Their Boss | Headcanons

Summary: How Kaeya, Scaramouche, and Alhaitham treat you as their higher-up.

Notes: SFW. Fem!Reader. Platonic with a hint of romance. Scaramouche is mean in his because he's a brat, but that's why we love him.

Kaeya

⟡ He has immense respect for you. You take great pride in your position, and you work yourself to the bone to not only meet, but to surpass everyone's expectations. And you do so without a word of complaint. Your job isn't easy, but you still manage to make it look effortless.

⟡ You don't really know when to quit, and that's why Kaeya is always there to reel you back in. He's had plenty of experience dealing with workaholics thanks to Jean, so don't think any of your little tricks will fool him. He's going to make sure you get the proper rest you need and deserve, no matter what.

⟡ That being said, on many occasions, Kaeya has walked into your office to find you fast asleep on top of a pile of papers. He'll softly sigh at the display before removing his coat and gently draping it over your sleeping form, bidding you a whispered goodnight.

⟡ He lightly scolds you the next day for working too hard, but he's careful to not overstep himself. You're his superior, after all. You have a lot more on your plate than he does, and ultimately, you also have more authority. That won't stop him from worrying about you, though.

⟡ If you'll allow him, Kaeya likes to treat you after a long day of work. Arm in arm, he'll whisk you along to the Angel's Share, reassuring you that all drinks are on him. How could he let his kind, dependable boss pay the check on a night out?

⟡ Maybe it's due to the alcohol, but Kaeya's heart skips in his chest as he watches you finally shed your cool persona for a more relaxed and carefree one. With your head thrown back, you fill the tavern with your infectious laughter, only stopping when you need to take a moment to breathe. It's hilarious and endearing at the same time. Kaeya's just glad to see that you're still able to enjoy yourself every once in a while, the thought of work far off from your mind.

⟡ He might always be down to have some drinks, but rest assured, Kaeya's always willing to forgo a night out if you need some extra help. He'll fulfill any order you give him, and that's not just because you're his superior. He genuinely admires you. Boss or not, he's at your beck and call. All you need to do is say the word.

⟡ However, he eventually figures out that there's something more to his unwavering loyalty to you. A couple of drinks and prodding from his brother brings the truth out into the light, and now the Cavalry Captain has an entirely new problem on his hands…

Scaramouche

⟡ It doesn't matter if you're Scaramouche's superior. He doesn't take orders, especially from a weakling like you.

⟡ He just can't stand you. Every time he looks at you, he wonders what on earth the Tsaritsa was thinking when she left you in charge of the Harbingers. What skills do you possess that he doesn't? What reputation or status do you have that could possibly rival his? He doesn't know, but the Tsaritsa's words are final, so he has no choice but to accept you as his…boss.

⟡ So Scaramouche purposely tries to do everything he can to ruin your day. Why? He doesn't like you, and that's reason enough. He'll be extra snappy towards you or leave you with mountains of his own unfinished work for you to complete. He pulls out all the stops to let you know that you're not welcomed, and he won't be satisfied until you give up.

⟡ Or, at least, that's what he likes to tell himself. Somehow, he finds his feet taking him to your office not to annoy you, but to simply talk with you. He doesn't even realize how friendly he's being until he's already deep in conversation. He'll send a scowl your way, but by then he's just not in the mood to start anything, so he opts to make an abrupt exit.

⟡ Is it so strange that his thoughts often flicker back to you during the day? He nearly smiles when imagining what expression you'll wear the next time he irritates you. Sometimes you're unbothered by his mischief, but other times you can't hold back the exasperated look on your face. Your reactions only make him all the more eager to see what side of yourself you'll show him next.

⟡ It doesn't even occur to him that he's becoming fond of you until Childe says it, and now Scaramouche has a whole other reason to be agitated by you.

⟡ Seriously, do you think you can just nonchalantly schmooze your way into his good graces like that? Not a chance. This fondness is nothing but an enjoyment of your daily misery brought on by himself.

⟡ That's what he thinks anyways, but his rosy cheeks and upturned lips—phenomena that occur only in your presence—say otherwise.

⟡ He once swore off giving into human feelings, but with you in the picture, it looks like he's doomed to experience the unfortunate circumstances of love.

Alhaitham

⟡ Honestly, he’s just glad that you were picked as the replacement for the Grand Sage instead of him. He’s not cut out to be a leader, and honestly, he’d rather have the extra time to conduct research as he pleases. That being said, Alhaitham values your opinion. There’s a reason the sages specifically chose you to fill this role, so he expects a lot from you. He’s confident that you can live up to the task.

⟡ You’re also one of the few people Alhaitham can tolerate. You’re not nosy like Kaveh or entitled and arrogant like many of the other scholars. All you’re interested in is doing your job well, and that earns you extra favor from him.

⟡ He’ll even go out of his way to help you with your projects, reminding you that he’s always available if you need his help in particular. He’ll also join you in conversation, thoroughly interested in whatever topics you bring to the table. Out of everyone in the Akademiya, you’re the only one who comes closest to understanding how he thinks. Maybe that's why he doesn't particularly mind spending time with you.

⟡ Alhaitham doesn't tolerate anyone bad mouthing you, and he is always the first one to come to your defense. “Do you really think [Name] was appointed Grand Sage by mere accident? Her skills are unparalleled, and she certainly doesn’t question the knowledge and authority of her fellow sages, unlike you.”

⟡ Alhaitham also just appreciates your work ethic and devotion to your studies. He welcomes your intellectual banter, and he even goes so far as to seek out your opinion on certain matters. He always makes sure to always take your thoughts into consideration, even if he has a different perspective.

⟡ But up until this point, he hasn’t been sure of how to refer to you. Are you his friend? His colleague? Simply his boss? Is he afraid to put a label on you because you’re his superior, or is there something else keeping him from finding that definitive answer?

⟡ “Of course you wouldn’t understand how you’re truly feeling, considering you know absolutely nothing about beauty and romance, so let me spell it out for you. You like her, a lot. It’s so obvious it almost makes me feel pity for you…almost.”

⟡ When Kaveh’s words finally settle in his mind, Alhaitham realizes he's been blind to the truth. After all this time, it never even dawned on him that his feelings towards you could possibly be anything more than admiration. His heart uncharacteristically flutters in his chest, and now he spends many nights lying awake, wondering what he should do now.

⟡ “Perhaps my next topic of research should include the matters of the heart. I want to find out if what I feel towards [Name] is something truly unique, and, perhaps…something even beautiful.”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #kaeya x reader #scaramouche x reader #alhaitham x reader

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gachagon · 23 days

Text

I don't think Kaiser and Ness would be good together

Which is why i think about their relationship constantly despite that, i love these freaky little soccer dudes and their obsessive codependency

If there's one ship in bllk that I absolutely adore the content for and think about constantly besides Kunigiri, it's Kainess. And it's not because I think "Oh they'd be such a wonderful couple" or "They look good together", this is one of those ships where if they ever got together I feel like they'd actively make each other worse because they have so much internal stuff to work on alone first, you know? And just thinking about that potential train wreck of a relationship is enough to keep me entertained for weeks on end.

I've said before that Kaiser and Ness are a Bachira and Isagi parallel in that they show the toxic bad sides of a codependent relationship, but I think there's more to it than that. Like Kaiser and Ness are reliant on each other for both ego and attention, but they're also both deeply lonely people at the end of the day. Even in the scenes where it's just the two of them, they never let up the act of trying to surpass everyone and be at the top.

They have no silly banter or back and forth, even in this panel Ness looks more like Kaiser's personal servant than his friend or partner.

Where as everyone else in the Blue Lock compound has some healthy way of destressing after a match, these two weirdos (affectionate) sit in dark rooms and watch the same matches over and over again while plotting like saturday morning cartoon villains on what to do next game. I mean, even Itoshi Rin has a destress activity he does that's NOT soccer related that helps him not morph into some soccer obsessed monolouging freak, so to see these guys just constantly always planning and thinking and practicing it really puts into perspective how much of the time that they spend together is them not having a fun time casually. And if you compare what they do on their down time with what the other "partners" in Blue Lock do, this difference becomes even more apparent.

And I don't know, I find that to be a really interesting aspect of their relationship just because even though they are so clearly missing all of the key elements meant to make a healthy partnership, it still works on the field anyways because they're both equally obsessed with the same thing. Kaiser loves football and wants to be the best. Ness want's to see Kaiser become the best because he loves football. Their devotion to the game drives them closer to one another, but it's clear only one side holds any real "affection" for the other directly outside of the game.

Now, I do NOT think Kaiser hates Ness which I think people assume if you say "Kaiser doesn't hold a lot of empathy for Ness, or cares for him" that it translates to "Kaiser hates him".

I think Kaiser keeps Ness around because deep down he knows that at the end of the day the only person who would be willing to follow him even if he couldn't become the worlds best is Ness. And I think that's because Ness loves soccer in a different way than Kaiser does. To Ness, soccer is a really magical sport and one where amazing things can happen. And Kaiser is the only character who has done the most insane feats in the manga so far. Kaiser does things on the field that seem impossible until he pulls it off, which is the whole crux of his ego anyways: Making the impossible, Possible.

So as long as Kaiser plays that way and does all of the amazing things he's been doing, Ness would follow him literally anywhere because that's what drives him.

But Kaiser is different, it's clear that to him soccer/football is not something that is grounded in the fantastical, but something that's tangible and real to him. He takes it seriously even if he goes about it in the most dramatic and campy way possible. Looking at old chapters of Blue Lock when Kaiser was first introduced is so interesting to me because I forgot about Kaiser's whole "king" attitude where he pretty much talks and acts like some nobleman with a crown and scepter.

He even makes Ness "bow" to others or makes Ness physically lower than him like a king does with some peasant. You could chalk it up to him making Ness "apologize" in the Japanese way by also bowing, but I don't think that's why he does it just because his entire character is just so "king" coded.

It's worth noting that he also makes Ness "bow" whenever Ness seems to lose any kind of faith in them winning. Which is why I don't think the above two times was him making Ness apologize, but that its something he does to ground himself or make Ness fall more in line with how he's thinking at the moment. Notice how he seems to only do it when Ness isn't sticking to the right "script" or seems to show the wrong reaction openly etc.

But anyways, Kaiser and Ness love soccer but they don't love it for the same reasons and that is what ultimately conflicts with their relationship in the end. That, and they've both got their own issues to work out.

I feel like if they did ever get together, it just wouldn't work because in order for it to work, Kaiser has to first realize that he can still be an amazing player and have people regard him as the best without obsessing over where he sits in the rankings. That he can perform things nobody else can and never will and that is the thing that will separate him from the rest of the crop, not a trophy saying "Number 1" on it.

Maybe before when they first met things could've worked out well, but even still I think Kaiser was dead set on his goals of becoming number 1 long before he ever met Ness. We will definitely get to see the extent of that next week for sure I hope, when we learn more about Kaiser's past.

#kainess #micheal kaiser #alexis ness #bllk #blue lock manga #recent chapters had my brain churning out thoughts on kainess

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moonlight-prose · 10 months

Note

finding excuses to be alone with each other with miguel??

ME VUELVES LOCA

a/n: my first ever miggy fic!!! babes i am so fucking excited to be writing for this man. our dms are literally just filled with thoughts about him and that gave me so much inspo to write this. i've tried to get his voice down, but honestly i don't think i nailed it quite yet. still i hope you enjoy! (the title is named after such a beautiful song by lupita infante. i definitely recommend her music.)

note: thank you to @sunflowersteves for beta reading and easing my mind that this sounds like miggy. you're lovely darling.🖤

summary: "for weeks you’d been playing this cat and mouse game. trying to put off the attraction you felt in the hopes that this would dissolve into friendship once more."

word count: 0.9k+

pairing: miguel o'hara x reader

warnings: not explicit, tad bit of angst (because it's me), fluff, the beginnings of love, soft miggy.

If there’s one thing you can say for certain it’s this: finding a lick of privacy in the otherwise crowded Spider Society was near impossible. In fact it had surpassed being in the realm of near impossible to never achievable. Wherever you turned there was a Spider in need of help. Asking for the one person who always managed to get dragged away from your secretive plans.

Miguel wasn’t one to push off someone’s request for help. Yet the many inconveniences that pulled him away from you seemed to only drive him towards one solution. Doing what he could to steal away every moment that he had with you. He wasn’t oblivious—he knew people could see the way you looked at each other. Yet asking him the truth was never an option, and you were always swift in an escape plan whenever the question arose.

He didn’t mind you evading the truth. Given that he wasn’t one to be entirely open with everyone—he found you keeping whatever you had private admirable. Hell he even encouraged it.

Except for today that is.

“Miguel I know it’s a lot to ask but—” He felt his back stiffen at the sound of Peter’s voice behind him; the expectation of a request not far behind.

You had sent him a message asking him to meet you in an empty office twenty minutes ago, and he was adamant on making it there on time. But that possibility seemed to drift farther and farther away the longer he stood here. Peter’s cheery expression only soured Miguel’s. He had half a mind to make up something and escape, but the urge to help continued to gnaw at him.

“What?” he asked, attempting to keep his voice calm—steady.

“This mission is kind of well a little harder than most. Not that it’s impossible. I mean nothing’s impossible. But I was wondering if you—”

A message from Lyla let him know that you were indeed five minutes away from being stood up yet again. Something weighed heavy in his chest, a feeling he was used to harboring when it came to you. And he hated it. Shutting his eyes briefly he staved off the annoyance that built the longer Peter yammered on about the difficulty of one mission. If it were any other time, if you weren’t waiting patiently for him to show up, then he’d have agreed.

But that wasn’t the case.

“Dios mío,” he muttered, finally turning around. “Peter you’re capable right?”

The man froze. “I mean…yeah I’d say I was.”

“Then you don’t need me.”

“Yeah but Miguel—”

“I’ve got another mission to handle.” The excuse flowed with ease off his tongue. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d done this—having made up every excuse in the book just to steal away time with you. He was certain you had done the same, knowing you were meant to be helping Gwen with something in the labs.

Peter seemed to catch onto the urgency of Miguel’s tone, but not in the way he hoped. A sly smile spread across his lips as he leaned in to nudge Miguel on the shoulder. If there ever was a moment to grasp onto any level of peace in his body—now was it. He was halfway to throwing Peter out of his office.

“I get you,” he said, backing away with his hands up. “The mission is much more important.”

“Get out.”

Peter was gone before Miguel could finish the word out—finally giving him the peace and satisfaction he desired. Instructing Lyla to close up everything behind him, he made his way towards the empty office—hoping you were actually still there. He couldn’t exactly blame you if you weren’t. It was rough finding ways to meet up, away from everything and everyone here.

Finding excuses seemed to be your way to go about things.

The door was shut and locked by the time he reached it, but that was easy enough to bypass. Given that you were most likely resting on the inside he figured it would be better to slip in silently. Sure enough he found you settled in a chair, your eyes opening to see him shutting the door softly behind him, a grin on his lips.

“I’m a mission huh?” you mumbled, standing and stretching with a groan.

He snorted, his eyes falling to the way you bent—watching you step closer. “Didn’t have anything else to say.”

“I suppose I could be a mission.”

“Yeah? And what was your excuse?”

You shrugged, leaning against the desk with a grin. “I told Gwen I was needed for repairs.”

“On what?”

Crossing your legs, you watched him take a step. “Don’t think it matters? She wouldn’t have believed me anyways.”

For weeks you’d been playing this cat and mouse game. Trying to put off the attraction you felt in the hopes that this would dissolve into friendship once more. But you could see it in Miguel’s eyes that he wasn’t interested in friendship. Hell he wasn’t even interested in taking things slow. Neither were you it seemed.

“I guess they know,” he muttered, his thighs pressing against your knees.

You smiled, reaching up to trace the Spider insignia across his chest. “Guess they do.”

“What now?”

Pulling him closer, you tried to keep yourself calm when he willingly fell into your hold, his body hunching down to meet yours. “We figure it out later,” you whispered, your nose barely brushing his. He grinned the sharp point of his fangs poking through. “Good.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara fic #across the spiderverse #my writing #in love with love weekend🌷

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morose-marble · 4 months

Text

Incoherent ramble bc I have the brain worms about Apo

I am very annoying and also unwell, which is why I have taken to scrubbing through a not-insubstantial amount of episodes from Apo's lakorns (without subtitles) to form some kind of picture of what kind of roles he was cast in while employed by channel 3, and sending screen caps to literally anyone with a messaging app in my immediate social circle (they are in hell, thanks for asking). So, now that I have run out of people to torment with my obsessive tendencies, I am left with posting into the void on good ole tungle dot com.

So far, it seems that Apo's bread and butter was a wholesome, boy next door, nong type character (this is based on quite shaky interpretations of Sut Khaen Saen Rak, Buang Banjathorn, Chaat Payak and Prakasit Khammatep) with some exceptions, such as Tiang in Chat Suer Pun Mungkorn, a hot-headed young gangster. These aside, I have not yet formed a comprehensive understanding of his profile as an actor, as I can't seem to get my hands on some of the dramas at all.

The aforementioned roles were all supporting ones, and I could only find episodes for one of his two lead parts, that of Pong Khun Boon Jirakit in Pra Teap Rak Hang Jai, an enemies to lovers story(?). His character sells artisanal traditional Thai silk(?) and ends up falling for a rich woman (Preeyakarn Jaikanta) down on her luck who needs to become independent and better herself as a person(?). Quite a straightforward premise. (He wears a bunch of plaid in the show, he looks uncomfortable.)

Now. What I have noticed about Apo's career in supporting parts is that the male leads he supports are very...narrowly masculine, in comparison to him. Apo has talked about having faced homophobia/general cishet discriminatory nonsense in the industry at that time, and flicking through these shows really illuminates how rigid the concept of a lakorn romantic male lead was (maybe still is, I don't know). Obviously, I gathered that lakorn gender roles were a tad more conservative, but I still struggled slightly with understanding why Apo was treated the way he was, bc I feel like he is relatively conventionally masculine (my european perspective impacts my perception of what constitutes normative gender roles, I know) to the point where picking up on any ~queer~ vibes would be a gays only event. However, I feel like I get it a bit better now.

Apo is very handsome. He is also beautiful in a way that a lot of these leads aren't. They are pointedly conventionally masculine, not necessarily hypermasculine, but going towards that direction, something that is emphasised by their role in the narrative and acting style. Lots of stoicism and displays of quiet suffering and anger. I know, it's very reductive to place gendered presentations onto a spectrum etc etc, but if one were to operate within rigidly delineated binary requirements for gender presentation that exist in media (and society, there's nuance), Apo does not quite fit the criteria of a leading man within the given parameters. Which is terrible, of course. I can absolutely understand why Apo got fed up with the industry and decided to leave it all behind.

Additionally, as pointed out above with the repeated archetypal character traits, I feel that he did not get to flex his acting muscles in the narratives of these shows, which is another thing he has commented on, though maybe not in those words exactly.

Thinking about all of this makes his recent successes with Kinnporsche and Man Suang terribly interesting and delicious. I recognise that narrativising a celebrity's experiences as an affective story like this is mad parasocial brain rot behaviour, but the idea of him taking something that he was disparaged for earlier on in his career (perceived queerness) and turning it into a factor of him surpassing that which held him back is very attractive in a story sense. Like, what a triumph?

I'm not sure if any of this makes sense or if this is completely old news to everyone, but for some reason I had to get it out somewhere. I'll probably read this back in the morning and cringe mightily.

Anyway. What an interesting time to follow his advancement and the changes in the Thai BL industry, namely the increased attention from the government. I have fears, but I don't know how to articulate them yet. Therefore, I will focus on enjoyment for the time-being.

#apo nattawin #man suang #shine the series #kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #mileapo

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luffyvace · 4 months

Note

Hello again brook! I am the one who asked for the luffy x heroic reader! Thanks for it I liked it a lot! I wanna ask for another headcanons now, a Platonic garp x young fem reader that really look up to him and that work really really hard to achieve her dream to become an admiral and work to change how the marine work (being okay with slavery, allowing some pirates to hurt ppl and do whatever they want while chasing some for doing nothing...) And she manage to become one of the strongest and the barevest marines in such a short time

HIII AGAIN ANON!! :)

yay I’m so happy you were satisfied!!! ❤️‍🩹

AWWW your concepts are the cutest!!! I think garp with young apprentice who admires him a lot is absolutely adorable!!

Idk whether to make this old or young garp really so you choose :P

ENJOY!! You have such good ideas~

😋

You look up to garp so much!!

he’s the hero of the marines who doesn’t?!

you’ve admired him for a long time now and he motivates you even more to achieve your goal!

as soon as you get as good as him, you’ll put an end to all the corrupt things the marines let slide!!

your gonna be a hero in your own way!! 🦸‍♀️

and make things right in the way the government does things!!

to make this true justice!!!

you’ve read all about garp’s past a million times

to the point where you could probably tell it backwards and upside down without reading it 😅

you subconsciously ramble and talk about him a lot

not in a creepy way

in a cute puppy like way where you just like to talk about the one you admire!

you always think “what would garp do?!” in tough situations!

and it works too

he’s the type that comes up with simple yet effective plans that mostly involve brute force

but hey I mean sometimes that works 🤷‍♀️

Garp honestly doesn’t mind one bit that you look up to him so heavily

he wouldn’t care so much if you weren’t his apprentice but you are

And while he doesn’t mind, he does want you to carve your own path, not or just limit yourself to his if you can surpass him

he stooped to one knee, put a hand on your shoulder and told you that one day as you were training

you’ve gotta admit it was the coolest day of your life and you’ll never forget it

you’ve engraved into your mind and make sure never to obsess over becoming like him, but strive to be as good as him

you couldn’t stop thinking about that moment for a solid week

garp could tell because you kept spacing out way more often than usual 😂💗

Ngl you kinda view garp as like a uncle or second father maybe, or even your grandfather (but of course you don’t dismiss that your not actually family)

garp’s training is honestly- REALLY INTENSE 😃

like he does you how he does koby, helmeppo and younger luffy

but WORSE 😆

why? Because he has high expectations for you <3

and while he might come off as too harsh at first, as you soon as you found that out you stop complaining 😂

It’s honestly a good thing your a natural hard worker cuz garp was gonna make you one anyway 😂🤷‍♀️

now he doesn’t have to worry about you slacking or being lazy

but he does warn you about overworking and that rest is just as important as working, as odd as it may seem

your dream to become an admiral seems totally in reach for you to him

your like the perfect specimen to do so in his eyes

You have a moral sense of justice, your strong and hard working

you’d be an ideal admiral!

and the first female one at that!

he honestly hopes you do become an admiral

its time for a change of pace as far as the governmental rules anyway

you’d bring that about perfectly

and give regular people a hope that there is good in the marines, specifically uncorrupted ones they could trust

And you’d teach a good lesson to those darned pirates too!

-according to garp

He’s given you all the training and has set you up to become a successful admiral—just like you wanted!

Now you’d better become one and achieve your dream! Or he’s gonna beat you!

(Fist of love 🤜💥)

literally 😋

he cares so much about you, he doesn’t want you to fail!

so he’ll force you to not to 😊

one way or the other :P

and besides, your practically his successor!!

he ain’t getting any younger (not that you like when he says that) so your gonna have to take over a lot of responsibility from his shoulders when he leaves!! >:(…. (❤️‍🩹)

And if he leaves this earth and you embarrass him by being weak he’s gonna come BACK down here and teach you a lesson!

”understood?!”

”YES SIR.” (｀_´)ゞ

He’s also straight forward about warning you of the dangers that comes with this job

number one is strong pirates and two is breaking the rules!

don’t be afraid to break the rules because you’ll loose your job, but because HE’S gonna get you >:/

That aside there’s also the grand line in general but the marines have the advantage of special travel routes and technology

So to put it short as long as you ain’t doing nothin you ain’t got no business you’ll be fine :)

the whole slavery thing is beyond garp

Not in the sense that he doesn’t know about it

but that he just can’t believe others are doing that??

like what’s the purpose

if you were gonna do illegal things anyway might as well become a pirate so he can beat you for it

but because they’re in a position of power too it makes it harder

you have to gather solid evidence and go to court and blah blah blah……*tunes out*

(bro just wants to eat his crackers)

but not to worry for the slaves!

you’ve got a plan!

what it is? don’t ask, garp wasn’t listening 🧍‍♀️

but just know you’ll be saved soon! 👋

He understands your want to save others in general

now idk what garp’s drive is

but even though your goals may be different

he totally sees where your coming from

but take some advice from a guy who gets called a hero all the time—don’t get ahead of yourself.

(he knows you won’t he just wants to make sure he tells you in case you do, then he can say he warned you)

lots of people loose they’re way on they’re path to power

but your so headstrong he knows you won’t

as far as the whole thing were some of the marines attack pirates who have barely just started calling themselves so but won’t take down the ones causing REAL chaos

is real phony and bogus to him

and to you too

(it low key makes you giddy when you and garp have the same opinions because you admire him so much 😂💖)

but yeah he personally beats any pirates he comes across, big or small

but he will prioritize the bigger ones

he’s a big shot himself, so he ain’t scared 😎

his missions is never to chase around roaches anyway

he only gets the real deal 💪

garp was so proud when you became one of the strongest and bravest marines

he had no doubt in his mind you could do it

But so soon? He’s impressed!

”guess you worked harder than I thought you did, sport.”

that was your first ever sense of praise from him and from that very second on you never forgot

you think about it every night before bed and during every battle

You let it drive you and push you further towards your goal

which is also when you may have realized his soft spot for you

At first he never really displayed it, but ever since then you knew it was already always there <3

you felt so honored and grateful in that moment

he treats you to some crackers to celebrate 🍻

koby and helmeppo love to train with you!!

they think your so strong

and that it’s cool that your basically garp’s successor

they definitely believe in you, especially since all the times you beat them in training

In fact, they look up to you

btw you, garp and Sengoku are also like a silly little family 💗

your family bond between you, garp, Sengoku, Koby and Helmeppo is adorable, goofy and inseparable all at the same time

he’s proud, you’ll never hear him say it, but he doesn’t have to. ❤️‍🩹🤝

This is my first time writing for garp and it was my pleasure! This was so heartwarming and I’m honored to have done the job <3

I hope you enjoyed these hcs as well dearest anon!

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mmyrrhh · 1 year

Text

Eyes on the road

Summary: A car ride with your favourite lieutenant.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 648

Notes:

Fluff

Mr. Riley strikes me as the kind of person who will listen to country music while driving and tapping the steering wheel rhythmically in the process.

My sideblog got shadowbanned so I’ll be posting my fics here until the issue gets resolved (if it gets resolved).

————————————————————————

You’ve been driving for two hours straight, and the silence between you grows longer as the miles pass. Despite your efforts to engage him in conversation, he appears content to remain silent, responding only with brief, cryptic remarks.

“Where are we going?”

“That’s confidential information.”

“How long until we arrive?”

“We’ll get there when we get there.”

Touché.

He was deep in thought, with his right hand steady on the steering wheel and his left arm resting casually on the open window. He had an air of confidence about him, seemingly able to take control of anything that life may throw his way; missions, injuries, cars, you. Oh boy, the power he has over you.

Every time he had to shift gears, he did with such poise and grace, releasing the wheel but securing it with his thigh so it wouldn’t drift away. You watched him every time he did that, anticipating the moment he’d place his hand on you instead.

His mask obscures his face, but you know there is concealed road rage lurking beneath. Now and then, a reckless driver would surpass you, and he would mutter a curse under his breath as his gaze followed the car. Other times, he would instinctively put his hand in front of you, inches away from your chest, acting as a human seatbelt.

Inches away...

The scenery is, well, nothing: an endless expanse of dirt, as far as the eye can see. And with the quiet between you, the boredom begins to set in. You figured a little music would lighten up the mood, maybe even spark a discussion of some sorts. You turn on the radio, shuffling through the stations until you find one that works. You turn up the volume and turn your attention back on the road. Ghost doesn’t comment on your action but has a lot to say about your taste in music.

“It’s shite,” he mutters under his mask.

“It’s the only one that works,” you comment back.

“It’s still sh*t,” he repeats.

“We don’t have any other option, Lieutenant.”

“There’s always another option, soldier,” he explains. “In this case, you could always turn it off.”

Is this an order or a suggestion? Better go with the safe option. You move your hand towards the radio button, but he catches it mid-air, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

“Don’t; let it play if you like it,” he whispers, his eyes still focused on the road, “my preferences should never dictate yours.”

In that moment of unexpected kindness, you turn to look at him.

You become immediately drawn to his profile and begin to examine any characteristic you can distinguish beneath his balaclava.

His brows appear sparse and washed out; is that genetic or permanent damage from a fire? His dark brown eyes are half-closed, emitting a sense of melancholy; that, or he’s tired from all the driving. He suddenly lets out an audible sigh. Your eyes travel to his lips; you can distinguish a faint outline through the stretched fabric. His Adam’s apple moves with vigour every time he swallows. His collarbone, chest, arms, abd-

“Eyes on the road,” he commands. Shit; caught red-handed once again.

You lightly cough in embarrassment and obey. Neither of you speaks.

As you continue driving down the road, he suddenly takes his hand off the wheel and goes straight for the volume button, turning it up.

You turn to look at him in confusion.

“It’s Johnny Cash,” he explains, shrugging.

“Johnny Cash, huh? Any relation to… John Price?” you quip, trying to lighten the mood.

“You and your fucking jokes,” he says with a hint of a chuckle in his voice.

And with that, the silence between you settles once more. But this time, it’s no longer oppressive, no longer boring. It’s a comfortable silence, with Johnny Cash speaking volumes about you and your lieutenant’s silent bond.

————————————————————————

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader

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