#what if i told you i finally got around to writing this finally because i read a fuckton of always sunny fanfic
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Could you make a one shot where the reader grew up with a very loving family (especially her dad) and rafe surprises her with gifts, activities and acts of service that she loves. She gets confused and asks him what’s with the stuff. He says that he’s recently been spending lots of time with her parents and always asks them what reader likes to show that he can meet the bar her dad has set. (And maybe slip in something on how he’ll set his bar with their future daughters and their boyfriends 😈🥹). I always look forward to reading ur work and I just wanted to finally ask cuz you write everyone’s requests so well!!
Setting The Standards
Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader
Warnings: N/A
Pronouns: She/Her
Word Count: 0.6K
Masterlist
Y/N loves that Rafe likes to spend time with her parents without her. She finds it sweet that he takes time out of his day to get to know the other people she loves and thinks it is good for him to be around a family that actually treats him with love and attention. Every time Rafe visits her parents, she notices he gives her a gift and does one more chore around the house the way she likes it. A part of her feels like he is trying to condition her, but it wouldn’t really make sense because he is the one doing the visiting.
One day, she decides to ask him about it. Her parents spent the day with Rafe at her and his shared house while she was at work. They had to leave before she got home because they had to get to her brother’s house to babysit her niece. She places her purse on the side table and pads to the living room. She isn’t surprised to find a box wrapped in flower-patterned wrapping paper and a bow. She approaches it with a smile, tearing into it as soon as she is within arms reach of it. Her instinct to wait for Rafe goes out the window. She didn’t expect to find ketchup chips in the box. Her parents must have told him about how she became obsessed with the snack when they vacationed in Canada a few years ago. Her hands eagerly reach for the bag and pull it open, shoving the red potato slices into her mouth. She moans at the sweet taste that reaches her taste buds. Rafe enters the room with a chuckle, “I see you like the snack I got you.” His feet take him behind her and he reaches into the bag to pop a chip into his mouth. She stares up at him with a smile. “I did. Thank you. What were you doing?”
“I was switching out your winter clothes with your summer ones. The weather is getting warmer so it’s time for flower patterns and shorts, Bumblebee.” He kisses her cheek with his arms around her waist. Butterfly erupts in her stomach. She hates changing between her closets. It takes forever and is so tedious.
“Aww, thank you, Baby. It means a lot that you do all this for me.” She rests her hands on his and they sway for a little until she gets the courage to ask what she has been wanting to ask. “So… I have noticed that whenever you are with my parents, I get gifts and your acts of service are more tailored towards me. I was wondering why.”
They freeze and he caresses her forearms. “One reason why I love spending time with your parents is that I get to learn small stuff about you that you may not see as important to me. It helps me make you happy and that’s my mission in life.”
She awws and kisses his cheek, “That’s so sweet, Baby. I wish I could do those things for you.” He brings his hand up to her cheek as a reassurance. “You may not know it, but just being here for me is enough, Bumblebee. Plus, how am I supposed to show our daughter how she should be treated if I don’t lead by example? Because both of you are meant to be treated like queens. I’m just setting the standards.” A heat spreads over her cheeks at the mention of their possible future. It solidifies her belief that he will make a great father one day. “You are going to set the standards so high for her that she will recognize that she only deserves to be married to a king,” Y/N adds. “Thank you for everything that you do for me.”
Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#outer banks#rafe cameron imagine#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks imagine#outer banks x reader#rafe#rafe fic#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#outerbanks rafe#obx rafe cameron#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron blurb#rafe x y/n#rafe x you#outerbanks#outer banks fic#obx
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This one's for @pirateaangel, who requested a feelings realisation fic based in Stalag Luft III, with Gale in denial, Bucky acting out, and a chase into the night.
I hope you like it! Read under the cut.
I do accept fic requests if you have them, though feeling a bit of the midweek blues so would particularly welcome something upbeat this week!
After the men were seen to, and Gale had personally checked they had all the meagre offerings a desperate place like Stalag Luft III could possibly offer - blankets, one pillow, and a bunk to put ‘em on, medical attention (if not intervention), and some barely passable food and water - perhaps John Egan should not have been the first thing on his mind.
But there he was, as large and demanding and present in Gale’s head as he ever was in person. That had been the way of it ever since Bucky had wormed his way into Gale’s affections, into his friendship: whenever the responsibilities of leadership waned, and Gale was left with a few moments of quiet, his thoughts invariably turned to John, at least for a moment.
What trouble is he gettin’ into?
He better not have forgotten to eat again.
He’s gotta stop pissin’ off the Colonel. For a guy so affable, he sure did have a problem with Colonels.
Gale wasn’t some obsessive dame or nothin’. Just, someone had to look out for John whilst he looked out for everyone else, and Gale got the job.
Gale liked the job. Whenever anyone jokingly offered to take the other Major off his hands for a while, Gale would smile with the rest of them, but managed to keep John as his, well, as his somethin’.
And here in Poland, now that the quiet had descended and the men were all privately coming to terms with their new lot in this war, Gale wondered who’s job it was now.
Who told him that Gale went down? It was chaos, and he wasn’t convinced anyone would have observed any chutes. John would have sat there, fresh faced and relaxed after enjoying his leave in London, and have to hear 'No record', about where his buddy went down.
Gale wondered if it was vanity that made his assume John would be at least a little cut up about it. Lord, he hoped John didn’t drink over him.
If there was a way for him to write John, let him know he was okay, he would have done it. He woulda done anything, to spare his friend the grief.
Because if it were the other way around? If he’d had to find out that John had gone down, with no record, whilst he’d been yucking it up in London? Gale woulda drowned in that kind of guilt. Only the responsbility towards the other men in the plane with him the next time he took to the air would stop him from doing something reckless and final in the name of John Egan, KIA.
And in the relative privacy of his bunk, in the dark, Gale let himself wonder if that was normal? If it was something other men felt about bonds forged and severed by war.
And like always, he pushed the thought away. Course it was normal. It was known. There was no Buck without Bucky. And vice versa. Which gave him hope of a future out of this POW camp. So long as John was out there fighting the good fight, Buck could still exist.
It was also why he was equal amounts elated and devastated to see Brady two days after their internment at Stalag Luft III.
After Gale had secured them a bunk, and the fellas left to give Brady and Murph their space to settle, Brady had grabbed Gale’s wrist as he went to walk away.
“You have no idea how happy I am to see you alive, Major,” Brady said, though there was no trace of joy on his face. Only something grim and sad.
“What is it, Brady?”
It took the pilot a few moments to gather his courage but he tugged on Gale’s wrist and he sat on the edge of Brady's bunk and listened.
“John was the commanding pilot on the mission.”
And Brady, for his part, got the front hand seat to both Egan and Cleven's grief at hearing the other went down. He watched the breath leave Major Cleven, watched something shutter behind his eyes, watched him swallow convulsively around words he didn’t want to ask but desperately wanted to know.
“Is he—do you know if—?”
“He bailed. I made sure of it, Major,” and Brady grabbed him with a mad sort of desperation, trying to make Gale understand in a way he couldn’t with John. “We were right behind each other, but we got seperated on the way down and the German’s were shooting at us as we fell…”
No record. More or less.
So that’s what it felt like. Cold, icy panic stabbing at his belly. Roiling nausea sparking up his throat. A floaty, buzzing sense that blinded him to Brady, and the fellas, and the bunk house, and landed him in a flak-ridden freefall with John Egan.
Had it been a hard landing? The kind that killed you on impact? Had it been soft and now he was all alone in enemy territory? Had he died before he hit the ground, or had German guns put one through his head and he fell to earth limp and gone, like a doll?
“..jor? Major!”
Brady looked at him concerned. The other fellas had returned and were shooting looks their way. Gale wasn’t sure how much they heard. Digging down to find that steel core John liked to tease him about, he stood from Brady’s bunk.
“Brady’s just informed me he’s missing one from his crew. Major Egan might still be out there.”
An excited chatter erupted amongst the boys. Benny grinned and slung his arm around Crank. The effect John had on people was astounding. In the middle of this miserable goddamned place, he still brought cheer and hope.
He let them have it, even if Gale wouldn’t allow it for himself.
Then, after a few more days, when the men were getting more and more despondent at the lack of familiar faces staggering into the camp, he heard it.
“Bucky! John!”
“Murph? Crank?!”
“Do any of you know if Buck made it? Do any—”
And of all the things swirling in his head as he stumbled towards the barbed wire fence, he found himself shouting, raspy and loud, “John Egan! Your two o’clock!”
He’d seen the back of John, grubby and dirty and greasy like the rest of ‘em when they'd came here. But when John whirled round on hearing his voice, and Gale saw the blood and the bruises and the sticky, rotten evidence of everything that had tried to keep John from stumbling into their camp - from coming back to him - and he saw John lighting up with relief and joy aimed at the sight of Gale, that fierce feeling he kept in his chest for John flared and caught and burned, and damn near choked him with the horror of it.
Because when John all but collapsed into his arms, and Gale couldn’t stop himself from clutching him right back until the tips of his fingers were white, he knew. He knew he loved him in ways he didn’t love the rest of their men, and he loved their men from the 100th. But Gale loved John in ways that kept him up at night. He loved him in ways that had him knowing just how many freckles John got in the sun, especially over his eyes. He loved him in ways that hurt with worry when John wasn’t there, and with a fury whenever John put himself in danger.
Gale loved John in a way that was dangerous here. And as he led John back to their hut, and got him squared up with a bunk next to his and called for a medic and got him clothes and bedding and water and food, he vowed to himself that he wouldn’t let his love endanger John.
Not here, not now, not ever.
And he tried, but he struggled.
It was ingrained into him, taking care of John. John was the mama hen of the 100th, don’t be fooled. He’d joked once about making a nest for the dodos when he was shipped off to England ahead of them all, but it wasn’t really a joke. He got the boys little things to make them more comfortable, made sure they got the chance to blow off steam to keep them sane, went toe-to-toe with the higher ups to defend the boys as best he could, and was the hand at their back when they stumbled.
Gale wasn’t like that. John liked to rib him and tell him he was the 100th’s poster boy, but in one of his more serious moments, he'd expanded:
“I’m serious, Buck. I don’t just mean all this,” he’d gestured all over Gale with a lopsided grin. “The boys look up to you. They copy you, try to emulate you. When they see you calm and steady, that’s what they do. When they see you thinking all careful, they give a little more thought, too. Ain’t no bad thing.”
But with John, caretakin’ came natural to Gale. And in the camp, it was no different. And that was the problem.
Whenever John winced, Gale was at his side propping him up, hands soothing over his back. But as soon as he righted himself, Gale abandoned him again for space and distance.
When John started coughing Gale gave him his own ration of hot water and helped him drink it down through the spluttering, but when John tried to touch his hands, in thanks or comfort, Gale snatched them away.
One night when Gale let his guard down and was telling John about how they got there, his eyes were far away and he didn’t see John’s hand reach out. But he felt the shock of John’s finger tips tracing the scar on his cheek.
Gale had frozen, words stuck in his throat and muscles locked as John rubbed his thumb back and forward.
And God, did it burn. It burned and tingled so good and Gale wanted to sob and drop his head into John’s hand but he couldn’t. He’d get them killed. He had to get them out of here in one piece and get back to Marge and marry her to keep both him and John safe from Gale’s love.
So when John opened his mouth to speak, Gale snatched up John’s wrist in a tight grip, and said firm and fierce, “Don’t.”
Things changed after that.
The distance that suddenly sprang up between the Majors became painfully clear to the rest of the 100th stuck with them in Stalag Luft III. Hell, it became clear to folks outside of the 100th, who had listened to heroic, humanising stories about the Buckies - the famed leaders of the Bloody Hundredth.
Gale avoided John at all costs. He still tried to do little things for him, he couldn’t help that compulsion, but when he left a biscuit from his Red Cross package on John’s pillow just before lights out, he felt it hit the back of his head as soon as dark hit. When he tried to give John easier jobs as he and the rest of the boys built up their strength, John would glare at him and take himself off to the tree stumps or the races the boys set up out of spite.
And if John hated him, that would have been easier. But when Gale overheard someone bitching about his orders, he also overheard a smack and a curse and caught sight of John stalking away from a young man clutching the back of his head. When Gale tried to give his food away just to cheer someone up, he felt John’s glare on the back of his head and more than one fellow had refused Gale’s offer, stammering and glancing between Gale and wherever John glowered behind him.
Gale just couldn’t stop loving him.
It came to a head when they tried to rebuild the radio.
Something in Gale had crumbled when the goons found the first one, and he threw himself into building a new one. And John, temporarily forgetting his righteous fury with Gale, constantly dropped bits and pieces he remembered they needed from the last one in front of Buck.
And one night, after everyone had gone to sleep and by the barely-there light of one dull candle, Gale thought he finally finished it. He let out a stunned breath, the cold billowing it in front of him, and fell against the back of his seat.
“Hey,” Bucky whispered from his bunk before scrambling from under the thin and ratty blanket. “You okay? What is it?”
Gale eyed the radio warily before flicking his eyes to Bucky. “I think - I think it’s finished.”
John’s eyes lit up with delight and pride and Gale flushed but couldn’t look away.
“Alright then,” he smiled. “Never doubted you. You wanna give it a try?”
The notion filled Gale with terror, but also with a desperate sort of eagerness and he couldn’t have said no if he tried. So he didn’t say anything, and only nodded.
With trembling fingers, and John by his side hurrying into the chair next to him and dragging himself as close as he could get, Gale tried to bring the radio to life.
Nothing.
But it was alright. The last one took a couple of tries, too.
But again, nothing.
And nothing.
And nothing.
Gale’s eyes burned and his throat tightened and the disappointment felt like lead shot right in his belly.
“Fuck,” Bucky cursed softly in his ear. One of those large, heavy hands came up to Gale’s neck and squeezed. “I’m sorry, Buck.”
And it was too much. It was too much because that hand was the only thing grounding him and Gale wanted to grab on to it and never let go. He wanted to bring it to his mouth and press his lips against the callouses and the veins and the heartbeat underneath. He wanted to trust it to muffle the cries of frustration he was choking on.
He slapped John’s hand away and the sound cracked in the silence. The hurt cutting through the softness Bucky somehow still retained for him hit him louder though, and Gale dragged in a breath so ragged, he hoped it sounded like anger.
Anger he could nurture right now. Not love.
But so could John. Oh, so could John.
Those dark blue eyes sparked angry in the dull light and he muttered low and spiteful, “The fuck is wrong with you, Buck, huh? What’s your problem?”
He couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t tell him despite the words thumping against his chest, beat after beat after beat.
“I ain’t got no problem,” Gale hissed, jaw tense and somehow, miraculously, managing to hold John’s angry gaze with his own. “If you hadn’t been such a child lately, I’d have been able to focus on this properly instead of keeping an eye on you—”
John’s eyebrows met his hairline. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”
And before Gale could snipe back John barrelled over him. “Whose the one that’s scrounged up most of your materials for both radios, huh? Do you have any idea what I head to do to get all that? Twice? No. Because youv’e had your head up your ass about something, avoiding me. Keeping an eye on me? Gale? You can barely stand to fuckin’ look at me.”
Gale bit the inside of his cheek bloody trying to ignore the crack of John’s voice, which the older man coughed away with a sneer and a grit of his teeth.
Through the blood and saliva, Gale said, “You’ve been impossible to be around, John.”
Impossible. Because every moment Gale spent near him, it was harder and harder to control himself and remind himself why he couldn’t just have what we wanted, who he wanted, the love he wanted, just this once.
“Like you would know?! What - what did I do, Buck? Huh? What did I do? ‘Cause I’ve been spiralling here, barely holding it together, and the one goddamn thing that has me holding it together is you, and now it feels like I don’t even have that.”
“John-” Gale pleaded. He pleaded, to John, to whatever force, heavenly or otherwise that might listen and bless him this repreieve.
And John reared back in his seat and Gale saw the worst thing he might have seen in this war: defeat settle in the eyes of Major John Egan.
John who whispered thick and sorrowful, like loved ones at a bedside vigil, “That’s it, huh? I did go and lose you to this war after all?” And in the protection darkness offered, Gale saw that John let his eyes fill with grief he wouldn’t quite let spill.
“Why did you go, Buck? What did I do?”
In violent contrast to the softness of John’s grief, Gale sprang from his chair, the wood screeching against the floorboards and grabbed him a tangled, gnarled fistful of John’s shirt. John didn’t fight back; he only reared back in shock and his legs sprawled open to try and keep his balance as Gale stepped into the space between and bent Bucky back at a painful angle over the back of his chair and snarled in his face,
“You made me love you, you goddamn sunnuva bitch.”
And Gale took a full, harsh, selfish kiss all his own. He breathed in sharp at the drag of dry lips which told him that they might be down but they were fightin’ and alive, and he pushed into the heat of Bucky’s mouth and let himself claim one hungry taste of John Egan, before he made his hands, which had somehow come to clutch Bucky by the throat, push him away.
“That’s why.”
And Gale stalked out into the night. Curfew be damned.
He got maybe, half way down the side of their hut, heading for the shadows that would hide him from the goons, before he heard footsteps he would know blind come running after him.
Well. If Bucky was going to retaliate, may as well be now in the dark, in one of the few hidden spaces they had, instead of in front of their men in broad daylight.
John had never been a violent man, but maybe if he decided to smack some sense into Gale, he could knock this feeling out of him.
So when a hand grabbed Gale’s bicep so hard it pinched the skin and he knew there’s be bruises like fingerpaints there tomorrow, he didn’t fight it. He let John drag him further down the gaps between the huts and shove him against the cold and damp wood. He let John grab his neck and the back of his hair, and he didn’t say anything even as the man faltered when he got a look of Gale’s face. What did he see? Defeat? Desperation? The grief that in a few short moments, Buck and Bucky, the most important, defining, greatest relationship of his life would be over, all because he let his control slip just once-
“Then we’re even, you stupid, stupid bastard.”
John slid his hand around the back of Gale’s neck, tightened his hold on the back of his head and hauled Gale up until he was damn near on his toes, and he wasn’t even that much shorter than Bucky, and swept Gale up in his scent, his presence, and his taste.
John kissed him. Out there in the dark, on the precipice where Gale thought he would be expelled from John’s orbit altogether, John kissed him. It weren’t sweet like he imagined John kissed the dames, and it weren’t rough like Gale had kissed him.
John kissed like he was hungry. He pressed full and heavy and kiss after kiss onto Gale’s lips; sucking on his bottom lip, nipping at its plumpness, and when Gale sobbed when John angled his head just so and pulled Gale in even further, John slid his tongue against Gale’s and the shock, the vibrancy, the life it sent thrumming through him had him weak. And John continued to devour. The hand at Gale’s head came under his chin and tilted his head up so John could lick all the way down Gale’s tongue, caress him on the way back up, only to do it all again. Gale’s breaths were short and panting. Was this what is was like to come back to life? When they restarted your heart? He felt his heartbeat, their pulse, in his mouth and it guided him to yank John down and give as good as he got. He swallowed John’s groan down his throat. He finally, oh finally, got a handful of those curls and pulled, and John whined high and pretty and got his hands under Gale’s thighs and hauled him up, just off the ground, so the only thing keeping him upright was John’s body pressing him against the back of the hut and one of John’s thighs which slid between Gale’s own legs-
And Gale had no choice but to break off the kiss with a curse and another tug on John’s hair. “Fuck, Bucky.”
Pressed chest to chest, their heartbeats felt like rapid fire.
And Bucky’s hands, holding onto his waist, and the breaths Bucky huffed into Gale’s ear, and the solidity of his presence slowly lowered Gale back down to earth until his feet touched the ground.
Bucky dropped his head to Buck’s.
Gently, sweetly, he kissed Buck’s crown. “Next time, Buck, save a girl some heartache and just buy me some flowers.”
A little hysterical, Gale snickered into Bucky’s neck. “M’sorry,” he mumbled against the skin. “I just don’t know how—”
John hummed and pulled Gale back by the scruff and dropped his head so they were forehead to forehead. “Me either. But you’re the smartest person I know - when I’m there to get’cha outta your head, at least.”
Gale kicked his shin half-heartedly.
“You and me, Buck,” John said. “Just like I told you.”
And for now, Gale let himself believe.
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I loveeee the singer and rhea headcanons you write could you do one where the reader is an actress? Maybe they meet through the reader getting cast in a movie that involves around wwe so she spends time going to matches and backstage
YES
Also, the years are different because that's how i want it and I said so🤷♀️
You'd have starred in that movie Fighting With My Family (just a different year though)
Since a big part of Saraya's story was Wrestlemania, you were invited to that years Wrestlemania, just a month or two before you started filming
The one you were invited to was Wrestlemania 39 and you were able to go to not only day 1, but also day 2 and got backstage VIP treatment
You got to meet a bunch (if not all) the wrestlers and had a heart-to-heart with Triple H
Rhea saw you first
She was nervous and jumping around shaking out her hands when she saw you walk down the hallway past her open door
Her heart stopped as did her nervous bounces
She kinda just automatically walked out of her room and watched you walk down the hallway until she couldn't see you anymore
She turned around and caught Dominik laughing at her
He told her who you were and told her to go for it
She didn't have the confidence until a little after winning her match against Charlotte
"Oh my god! Congratulations on your win! I'm Y/n Y/l/n, its so cool to finally meet you. You, uh, you looked really good out there."
"Yeah, you too. Thanks, uh-would you maybe, wanna, like, I dont know, get a drink or something after the show? You dont have to if you dont want to but-"
"I'd love too! And...maybe you could teach me a thing or two about wrestling?"
"Yeah, for sure"
You'd never seen her so nervous and it remained that way until she wound up proposing
But she just thought you were so fucking hot
Little did she know, you were just as affected as she was. you're just better at hiding it
soon as you walked away from yalls first meeting you were blushing and stuttering so bad someone asked if they needed to get you medical help
You were able to watch the matches from the guerilla and get a feel for the environment; the stakes, the people, the emotions, everything so that you'd be able to replicate it for the movie
You studied peoples moves, not only how they moved individually but together
Letting each other know what they were going to do, setting up, taking the bump, everything
You watched Rhea the closest though
It was just because she and Saraya seemed to have a lot in common in the way their characters looked is what you told yourself. Totally not cause she was absolutely gorgeously lethal in the ring
She helped you spare alongside the people actually hired to teach you for the movie. The wrestling with Rhea was more effective because that was her expertise
You definitely learned a lot but you only ever won when she let you
But with her looking the way she does when she riptides you, losing really doesn't sting too bad
You officially start dating around the time the movie comes out later that year, she was your date to the premiere and you guys wore matching outfits and it was perfect
Once you moved on to other projects, Rhea found solace in watching some of your previous stuff she hadn't seen before but found that she could NOT stand watching you scream or cry or be covered in blood (and god forbid a combination of the three)
You woke up once at 2 am to a call from her, checking to make sure you were ok and to hear your voice after she watched a show where your character was tortured nearly to death
She doesn't watch any of your horror/sci-fi stuff anymore
Shes always your premiere date though unless she absolutely has to work in which case you just go alone, but together you always match
She does love the stuff your in where youre not being harmed though and she'll watch them over and over again
She has at least one poster from everyone of your projects up somewhere in her house
Plus an abundance of your merch
Like way too much for any normal person
Kinda gives off Tom Holland and Zendaya vibes, but you each think that you're Tom and your girlfriend is Zendaya (if that makes sense)
Rhea about has a stroke when she find out you guest starred in an episode of Supernatural when you were younger
The Fighting With My Family movie is Rhea's favorite though and harbors the most merch since thats how yall met
You've gone to a ton of PPEs and RAWs since you started dating and fans freak out every time
#rhea ripley#the judgement day#rhea ripley x reader#the judgment day#wwe#wwe raw#tjd x reader#the judgement day x reader#the judgment day wwe#the judgment day x reader#wwe x reader#rhea ripley headcanons
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hello! I wanted to request a part two to your Ghost w/soldier!m!reader or Mechanic!Konig
I loved both and ur writing style is one of my favs!
have a good day/night you amazing human bean
Your hot new mechanic könig, pt 2
Of course! I already planned on making part 2s to both, I just have gotten sidetracked with other stuff, so I will do both. But this is a part 2 to mechanic könig, because I told the person who requested it I would, and I’m pretty sure I did it first, this one gets nice and dirty towards the end 😉. Pt1 below 👇
Also, feel free to make a request
It’s been a few days since your first interaction with könig, it was…a lot. he really got to you, made you all hot and bothered, and you can’t help but wonder how he can please you. You’ve typed out and deleted a bunch of texts that you were gonna send him, some very horny and others very reserved and nervous. Yet one thing stays constant, you want him. something about him is just so attractive, maybe it’s his confidence, maybe its his kindness from him letting you borrow his car. Maybe it’s because you’re just a little sub and wanna be topped, HARD. Most likely that last one. You finally decided to just call him. He almost immediately picks up.
Reader-“uh…hey, könig. Thought I should call you”
König-“if it’s about your car it’s not ready yet, won’t be for a while.”
He says harshly, yet he expects that’s not why you called.
Reader-“n-no it’s not about that, it’s about the other thing you said”
You hear him chuckle over the phone as his tone shifts to being much more seductive
König-“oh. About pleasing you ja?”
You stutter over yourself
Reader-“I-well-i…yeah, about that”
You both sit on the phone dead silent for a few seconds before könig speaks
König-“well i wouldn’t mind pleasing such a pretty man like yourself. I’ll be there soon”
He hangs up, leaving you stunned and confused. He called you pretty again! But also….you never gave him your address. Well, who cares, he’s about to come over and fuck your pretty boy brains out, so who gives a damn. After a few minutes you hear a car pull up and a knock at your door. You run to the door and open it. You look up at him, towering over you, his blue eyes piercing your soul. They’re filled with a deep primal hunger that he desperately wants to satiate, yet he has to hold himself back…for now.
Reader-“h-hi”
Your voice waivers, just like before you’re very intimidated by him. He’s so big, so tall, so manly. You can’t help but imagine his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight as he rams his hard throbbing cock deep-
König-“hello, it is nice to see you again. I missed that pretty face of yours”
He cuts off your thoughts with his compliment before reaching up and putting a hand on your cheek. He leans in and whispers
König-“I’ll be gentle. I don’t wanna break such a pretty toy”
He was lying. He presses his lips against yours, starting slow and soft then getting a bit more aggressive. He pushes his way in and closes the door behind him and scoops you up in his arms.
König-“where’s your room? Unless you just wanna go at it right here”
You chuckle and blush
Reader1”uh, no, my room is right over there”
You point to a nearby door, your house is small, only one floor, easy to find. He keeps you held tight in his arms as he carries you to your room. He open the door and walks in, closing it behind the both of you. Embarrassingly for you, you left out some of your toys.
König-“mein gott. You like them big?”
He says with a smile as he lays you down on your bed. Next to your pretty sizable dildo and butt plugs.
Reader-“well, The toys at least”
You say nervously. He bites his lip and leans in close before slipping a hand in the back of your pants.
Konig-“well, that means that…what’s the terminology… boy pussy should be nice and ready for me yes?”
You blush hard when he says that, but before you have time to respond he slips a finger into your asshole. You already prepared and played with yourself a bit before he got here so you’re still lubed up. You moan and whimper as you feel his fingers in you.
König-“you like that don’t you. You live for things like this. I felt your underwear, they were not boxers, they were panties”
He growls out to you. He has you, completely. He knows exactly what you like
Reader-“y-yeah, I-i do. I-I like being handled like this”
You choke out through your moans and whimpers, his fingers still digging around deep in your hole, grazing against your prostate. Suddenly he yanks his fingers out of you and his hand out of your pants before tearing your pants off and pulling your panties to the side to stare at your gaping asshole, welcoming him in, hell, begging him to fill it.
König-“such pretty pink panties next to such a needy hole. Slut”
He spanks you, causing your hole to twitch and you to moan. With that, he strips, letting you see his toned chest and abs, glistening with sweat. Then his cock, oh god his cock. It’s perfect, just bigger than your dildos and a bit thicker too, and not to mention it’s actually real. Then he pushes your legs up behind your head.
König-“flexible little maus”
He chuckles as he pins you down and lines himself up with your hole. Then he slowly starts pushing himself in, he feels your ass stick to his cock every step of the way. Causing him to moan and grunt as he keeps going. Once his cock is buried completely in you he leans over you, staring into your eyes.
König-“I’m going to fuck you till you can’t move you Hübscher Mann”
And before you can even respond he starts pounding you. Causing you to moan and yell every time you feel his full, manly balls slap your ass as his tip hits your prostate.
Reader-“oh, fuuuuuuck. Keep-keep fucking me. Make me your whore. Your slutty….little… boy wife”
You moan out in between pumps, you’ve fully resigned yourself to being his whore. You’ve always wanted something like this if you’re being honest. Your car breaking down was just an excuse for it to finally happen.
König-“I’m gonna fuck you every day, I’ll wake you up with my cock, feed you my cum”
He grips onto you even harder a his pace picks up. You feel cum leak out of your own cock as he keeps going, it’s like a faucet. He hold you tight and starts to growl and grunt like a feral animal. Turing you on even more. Then, he slams into you one more time, you feel his cum flooding your insides, painting them a pure white. You both pant and stay in the same position.
König-“good boy”
He then pulls his cock out of you and lays next to you, letting some of his fertile seed leak out onto your sheets.
Reader-“th-thank you”
He nods and pats your head before pulling a blanket on top of the both of you.
#smut#cod x reader#18+ only#m4m#gay#bisexual#cod smut#könig fanfiction#cod fanfic#konig cod#könig cod#cod konig#cod fic#konig call of duty#konig mw2#konig x male reader#konig smut#konig x you#konig x reader
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Cyclonus ruminates on himself, Galvatron, and who they used to be
#maccadam#transformers#cyclonus#galvacyc#megawarp#fanfic#what if i told you i finally got around to writing this finally because i read a fuckton of always sunny fanfic#writing is so embarassing for me i hate it so bad
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𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬, 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 | toji fushiguro
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Your ex-husband bringing the kids over for trick-or-treating is one thing; him wanting to spend the night at your place is another. But it's just for the night. There's no way one night can rekindle some old feelings...right?
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: ex-husband! Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - the reader is around their mid-30s - Tsumiki (age 11) and Megumi (age 9) - mutual pining - kissing/makeout sessions - unprotected sex - Daddy kink - breast sucking + nipple play - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - spooning + mating press - cervix fucking - breeding kink - praise - clitoral play (pressing and grinding) - pet names (baby, good girl, mama, princess, sweetie, sweet thing) - you and Toji have been divorced for five years - cameos: Gojo, Utahime and Mei Mei - mention of drool/spit and tears - humor bc I'm [not] funny.
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.6k (....dawg.)
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: happy Halloween, everyone!! so, randomly missed writing ex-husband! toji bc it's lowkey my favorite, soooo yeah, this is what we're doing to celebrate the end of the month! anywho, happy October, beautiful ppl, and tysm for reading my works!! Alsooo, ty for 2.8k!!!
“Trick-or-treat!!”
“Gasp—Oh my goodness!”
“We came to celebrate Halloween! Also, Megumi forgot his toothbrush here again.”
Opening your door to children at the sunset of Halloween day isn’t out of the ordinary or anything special. However, it’s always a pleasant surprise when it’s two kids you hold dear to your heart. You greet them with a hug, two siblings you know too well to say you’re acquainted with. If anything, you’re practically family.
The raven-haired brother, referred to as Megumi, speaks up. “It’s not my fault! Dad was rushing me last time.”
“Because you had to bring your stuffed animals last time, holding us back for your baseball practice.” Tsumiki, the older sister, snapped back. The two argue amongst themselves in front of you as you try to mediate. It’s no avail until another voice comes to the fray.
“All right, chill out, you two.” The voice belonged to the person approaching the porch stairs, your eyesight capturing the familiar figure walking up with two duffle bags. The one standing tall before you was the father of the children, Toji Fushiguro. Who’s also known as your one and only former husband. “Get inside and finish y’r homework, or else we’re goin’ back home.”
The siblings stop bickering and head inside, taking off their shoes at the foyer and walking upstairs. Now that they’re gone, you turn to the man with the jet-black hair, his viridian orbs focused on you. The weather was chilly, so the man wore his usual dark denim jacket over his plain black sweatshirt, matching his jeans. “You look good, big guy. What’s in the bags?”
He greets you with a curled lip, and the scar on the side of his lip lifts. “Picked them up from their after-school sports, so it’s their sports gear and costumes for tonight. Mind helpin’ me here?”
“Hmmm,” you merge your facial expressions to that of faux pondering, turning your back to Toji. “Nah, can’t. Got dinner to finish making.”
“Hmph, should’ve known.” He makes his way through between you and the front door. “Wouldn’t wanna break your pretty nails carrying heavy shit, huh, princess?”
You glare at him using the nickname, hating his patronizing gaze. “From what I remembered, you would never let me carry the heavy stuff because you thought I was too fragile and easy to break. So how about that, Mr. Knight in Shining Armor?”
“Really? I don’t remember sayin’ all that before. You must’ve put me in a spell.”
“Probably, I’ve been told I’m quite cute~.”
“Mmm, nah, more like an old hag of a witch.” Toji barks a laugh at your offended reaction, and he immediately ducks and heads for the stairs when you throw a sandal at him.
“At the very least, say I’m a cute witch, fucker.” You say the final word under your breath, grabbing the sandal you threw and heading back to the kitchen.
To say you and Toji were acquainted with one another would be the biggest understatement of the century. The two of you met a decade ago, fell madly in love, and married within a year of the relationship. When you tied the knot, Tsumiki had to have been two years old, and Megumi just turned one year old. You two had been together for four years after that, and you could confidently say those were one of [if not THE] best years of your life. You often second-guessed yourself being in a relationship with someone who had children, fearing that they wouldn’t like you or ignore you.
However, those worries were blown right away as the days went by. Every time you spent time with the children brought you three closer than ever; it was to the point that they saw you as their mother. How sweet! And there’s no denying that Toji loved you. The man would break someone’s nose for you — yes, it happened before, and it wasn’t pretty — for you were his sweet little thing that kept him going.
Well, if it was so great, why the divorce? Let’s just say you weren’t Toji’s first love. That title would have to be awarded to the Megumi’s mother. Even in her unfortunate passing, you can tell that Toji loved that woman like no other. It didn’t make you jealous or anything, seeing the man you love still mourn for a dead woman. Hell, you’d probably do the same if you were him. But, you can’t lie; it felt like you were cast over a “shadow” when it came to her influence. It was damn near suffocating to bear, especially in those four years of marriage. So, for your sake and his aching heart, you pulled him aside and suggested a divorce. And Toji didn’t fight you on the proposition, signing the papers and setting you free from the thick air.
Although things ended between you two, that didn’t mean things stopped being what they were. If anything, it was as if nothing happened at all. Even if you still don’t live under the same roof, you still make time to hang with the Fushiguros, whether invited to some occasion or exchange phone calls or texts to check up on them. Even now, five years after your separation, it warms your heart knowing that you get to interact with the people you care about.
There are moments you find yourself missing living under the same roof with all three of them and living alone can be pretty lonely. But all in all, as long as they’re comfortable and trust you enough to be around, there’s no need to change things up again. Like right now — the four of you sit at the dinner table eating before the kids go off trick-or-treating.
“Are you going to trick-or-treat with us, Y/n?” The brown-haired child sitting next to you asks while finishing up her dinner.
“Sorry, not this time, gotta be at a Zoom meeting for my job in a few minutes. But I do have someone else to take my place. Gojo will be here at around—Why are you two making that face?” You stop mid-sentence to notice Megumi and Toji at the other side of the table, displaying disgusted facial expressions at the mention of the white-haired other’s name.
“Why him?” They said in unison.
“Why not??” You question their irritation.
“He’s so annoying…” Again, in unison. Proof enough that they’re father and son.
You sigh as you get up to take your plate to the sink. “Oh, come on, you two, it’s not like he’ll be with you guys the entire night. He has a party at a friend’s he’s going to later.”
“Isn’t he too old to trick-or-treat?” Tsumiki questions, noting that Gojo is way past his undergraduate years.
“He is, but whatever gets that prick any free sweets,” Toji answers his daughter before getting up to put his dish in the sink.
You exit the kitchen, head into the living room, and sit on the couch. The laptop you had placed there was ready to open and unlock, and you clicked on applications and windows to look through before your meeting started in the next three to two minutes. He should be here about—
DING-DONG!!
Now.
Right on cue, you motion for Toji to grab the front door, and he follows your command. “Kids, Gojo’s here!” You shout out to the two kids who still sit at the table. “When you’re done eating, you can go upstairs and put your costumes on. But whoever finishes last has to do the dishes.” You can hear commotion from the table as the brunette rushes to put her dish in the sink and dash for the stairs. Megumi groans to himself; you giggle when you hear him mutter an “Aww man…”
You pull out your headphones to connect to your laptop, put them in their respective ears, and prepare yourself for the meeting. Ignoring the faint passive-aggressive tones of your ex-husband when greeting Gojo at the door…
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Your eyes flutter open, noticing the lighting change around the living room. The orange sunlight no longer decorated the space, substituted with the gradual darkness that overtakes you. The only source of light you can figure out is the flashing from the television screen.
Aside from the TV, there are no other signs of life. There aren’t any signs of Tsumiki or Megumi around playing or causing a raucous. It could only mean the two are still trick-or-treating with Gojo.
One blink, two blinks. I must’ve fallen asleep after the meeting… You hum while sinking to the couch, burying your face into the pillow.
But…since when did your pillow act like it was breathing with a heartbeat? And…I smelt that cologne before…How?
“Ya awake now?”
You raise your head, realizing you are not lying on your couch. Technically, you were; however, you were lying on something else on the furniture with you – more like someone.
It’s then you realize that you were lying on Toji during your entire slumber, him leaning on the end of the couch, one leg spread to make room for you to sleep on him while you sit on the other. And you can guess that you had your head on his chest, snuggling up to his warm figure. He looks at you with his green eyes now darkened by the room, yet you can see their glow from the television light. And that small smile he gives you, the scar on the right side of his lip lifted upward. The familiar butterflies in your stomach flutter like before. Like old times sake…That must be embarrassing, huh?
You frantically try to get off of him, “Sorry about that, I thought—“
“No, no,” Toji places a stern hand on your back, keeping you from moving further. “You were comfortable.”
You stare at him for a few seconds until your face contours to a look, and a smile starts to creep up while you situate yourself back to your original position, pressing your face back on his chest to listen to the beats of his heart again. “I recall having this couch all to myself not too long ago, so where’d you come from?”
“Well, I wanted to watch some sports highlights, but I figured you’d kick my ass if I pulled you off and had you sleep on the floor instead.” With the click of your tongue, he chortles. You bet your ass I would. “So, I decided to have ya sleep on me while I watch TV.”
“What’s wrong with the other side of the couch? It’s quite vacant and enough for a big guy like you.”
“True,” his hand rubs circles on your back, an old habit he did when he used to have you like this. “But then I’d be lonely.”
You titter. “That’s big for someone who said he thrives on being alone.”
“I thrive being alone when I’m working.” You’re glad he can’t see your eyes roll; he’d probably grab you by the cheeks like a child. “Besides, why would I wanna be alone when I have you for myself.”
And there it is, your cheeks begin to warm up. Or was it because you’re so close to him that his heat is transferring to you? That’s probably it, yeah. Let’s change the subject…”How long was I out for? I remember the kids left around 7:30-ish.”
“Mmm, it’s going to eleven right now.”
Three and a half hours? Damn. “It’s past their bedtime.”
Toji scoffs. The abrupt motion of his chest rising is satisfying in a way that makes you even more comfortable. “You still think they’re gonna sleep with all that sweet shit they got?” He snickers some more as you shake your head.
“They know better. When you guys get home, be sure to put their candy bags on the top shelf of the closet for the morning.”
“Still traumatized from that one time?”
“Uhhh, yes??” The memory flashes to you for a quick moment, but the dread from before still haunts you. Megumi was six years old and Tsumiki seven, returning home from trick-or-treating and immediately tasting their labor from that night. However, what you didn’t expect was for them both to eat almost half their bags. Let’s just say, thanks to their sugar rushes, they didn’t drop dead until the hour hand touched two of the morning. “Unless it’s the weekend, never again.”
The way the older man chuckles is so therapeutic — it nearly makes you want to fall asleep again. “You weren’t the one chasin' Megumi all over the place tryin' to get him to sleep. Little squirt gets his speed from me.”
“Awww, poor you~” You can sense the glare as you respond in a condescending, sing-song tune. “You and him are always butting heads. Like father, like son.”
“Tch, hate that sayin’ so fuckin’ much.”
“Why? ‘Because it’s true?”
“Shut up.” The hand he used to rest his head comes down to pinch your nose. You wriggle out of his hold with giggles, but he happily keeps you grounded to him with his stronghold and a leg wrapped around to prevent yours from moving. “He only listens to you. Such a sweet lil’ baby to you, huh? Puttin’ my own son against me.”
More giggles prompt out of tiny guilt, and you bring up a hand to rub on his chest. “He’s such a bright boy now. Growing up so big and fast.”
“Miki, too. That girl is way too smart fr' me to catch up. And she’s becoming so kind and strong, crazy to think she made me play teacups when she could barely go down the stairs by herself.” Toji hums, the vibrations felt on the pads of your fingers. “Think she gets that from you.”
You shook your head. “They’re your babies. They do amazing things because they have a big guy like you to catch them if they ever fall.”
“Hmm, fair…But let’s not pretend I’m the best dad in the world. Fuck, never in my life did I think I’d be a dad, especially with two kids. I didn’t know shit back then — still! I still don’t know shit.” You don’t say anything, just listening to him voice his thoughts to you. Because he knows you’d listen – you always do. “If you weren’t there for them, I don’t think they’d be shining like this. Y’re definitely the thing that brought us up together. They look up to you so much. Ya did so well with them.”
Nodding aimlessly, his black sweatshirt grazing on your cheek. “Thank you. Same to you. Didn’t do so bad yourself, big guy.”
“Mmm.”
Nothing is said between you two after that. The only thing that makes noise is the voices coming from the television. The volume lowered, an initiative you could guess from Toji wanting you to get some rest. The silence was too awkward that it might torture some, but it was fine where it was. There was no need to change it, especially when you were comfortable in each other’s embrace.
That is, until Toji asks, “Do you miss it?” The rubs on your back go slower, his fingertips drawing a ticklish sensation.
“Of course I do. All the time.” You answer honestly, turning your head to rest your chin on him. Your eyes glimpse directly at his, giving him a tiny grin. “Why ask? I know the kids miss me being around; what about you? Miss me nagging and putting you to work all the time?”
He sneers at your comment. “Every day.”
It was such a simple answer, yet it had the power to wipe that smirk right off your face. Your eyes locked in his sight, and your heart tuning to an irregular rhythm. Oh, come on, Y/n, get a grip! “Ahem—Toji, I hope you know that I never stopped missing everything we had — I never will. Those years that we shared were probably the best I’ve had. We had happy moments, others sad, of course. But, God, do I miss it all. I miss it so much. I miss having you guys here. Miki and Gumi and—“
“Me?” Good Lord, if this man doesn’t stop looking at you with those goddamn eyes of his, such captivating orbs that say more than he lets on. Your breath hitches, and so does the hand on your back. “Hmm? Ya miss me, baby?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Why’d you have to call me that? And it gets worse when he places his free hand on your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin while the forefinger teases the lobe and tragus of your ear. Goddammnit…
“...Yes,” your voice was down a whisper, which could easily be mistaken with the television. But you know Toji heard you, loud and clear. “Especially you, Toji.” You said it. The words that he wanted to hear from you. They felt so forbidden to say, yet it was the truth. You avert your gaze away from him. But you knew that wouldn’t work, not right now. Toji taps your cheek with his thumb, and your eyes sheepishly return to his.
He doesn’t say anything, and that makes your heart beat at an unbearable rate. It’s all you can hear when you stare into his deep emerald eyes, the sound of it ringing your eardrums as if you could puke. Your throat running dry, so you gulp to ease the uncomfortable bob. If something could just happen to end this anxious torture, that would be great.
And then your prayers get answered: something does happen. Toji slowly brings his face closer to yours — your body goes rigid, and you instantly face away before the inevitable happens. No, I didn’t mean that!
“Aht aht, don’t do that, baby.” His hand slithers from your cheek to your chin, forcing you to face straight at him. “Lemme see you.”
“Toji, wait,” your voice travels out in a shaky breath. “We shouldn’t be doing this. We can’t cross this line anymore.”
He listens to your pleas, but his body does otherwise. Placing a gentle kiss on your forehead while the hand on your back snakes downward. “Why not?” His gruff voice dialed down to a whisper.
“Because—Mmmm…” Toji interrupts you by licking the helix of your ear. Oh, you slick bastard. “We’re supposed to be done…”
“That’s not stoppin’ me from takin’ care of my sweet thing.” Jesus Christ, you almost melted from the way he whispered that to your ear. He’s pulling out all the same old tricks, and it gets more hellish by the second as you try not to give in. “So, y're gonna let me take care of you like I always do, right, mama?”
Both his hands now rest on your ass, groping it while your hips sway as if they have a mind of their own. The leg between yours comes up slightly, making you ride on it. The heat on your cheeks has already blossomed to your ears, making it hard to think straight. Gripping his sweatshirt, your hips ride his thigh to ease the throbbing sensation that grows with every motion. Good God, you shouldn’t be doing this. You know you shouldn’t be doing this. However, it’s been so long that you felt wanted like this — wanted by him. It’s all the same – his voice, his hands, his words, his body, and the names he calls – yet here you are turning into putty.
“Haaahh, Mmmfff…Toji, please,” Toji withdraws his face from your shoulder, leaving him to examine your expression. You must look so dumb right now, with your hooded eyes and shivering lips. But, at this point, do you even care? “Please…Treat me right.”
One moment, you see his gaze narrow with a devious glint. Next, you’re taken aback when Toji slams his lips on yours, kissing and sucking your bottom lip until you give him access. With a moan, you open your mouth for him and sink deeper into the kiss. Your hands come around his neck, keeping him focused on you and you alone. Not that he would have it any other way.
His strong hands continue to knead your asscheeks while you hump and grind on his thigh. Nibbling on your lip, you whimper helplessly for him. It strokes his ego, knowing he’s making you like this, the fucking bastard. He takes in your tiny cries happily, shoving his tongue to play with yours. You give in to him, almost losing your balance riding his thigh, yet Toji’s lips never leave yours.
You break the kiss to get an imperative breath, panting loudly and sweetly for him as Toji kisses and licks your ear. The sounds make your lower region twitch. “Hnnmm, fuck…That’s my girl. So fuckin’ good fr’ me always, Y/n…” You can feel him slide a hand up to the hem of your leggings, forcing it inside for his thick fingers to brush up on the bare flesh of your butt. You gasp sharply. Him squeezing your butt has you biting down on his sweatshirt. “—Hahhh, Oh God, Toji,” With every squeeze, he inches closer to your panty-covered chasm, where you know he’d find a damp spot. Please touch me. Please, please, plea—
CLACK-CLINK!!
The two of you are frozen stiff when you hear the sound of the door opening and closing, the foyer lights turned on. “Alright~, we got you guys home. See ya later!” That was Gojo’s voice, indicating everyone was finally back from trick-or-treating. This means that Tsumiki and Megumi are about to see you on top of their father, his hand in your leggings and smacking lips with yours. Your eyes shoot wide with horror — immediately remove yourself from Toji and stand up from the couch to pull your bottoms up. You barely had the chance to peek at Toji because the kids already run to the living room to find you two.
“Y/n, Y/n, look!” The brunette was the first to greet you with her adorable pink Barbie cowgirl costume. She and her brother, dressed as Sasuke Uchiha, cheerfully showcased their pillowcases full of candy. “Look at all this candy we got!”
“Wooow, you guys really went on a haul,” you can only hope they can’t see you sweating bullets through your fake reaction. “Wh–Where’s Gojo?”
“He dropped us off here a few seconds ago and left for the party,” The raven-haired boy answered while scanning his pillowcase.
You only nod along until you frantically wipe your mouth, realizing the tiny trail of spit from the corner of your mouth. “Umm—Ahem, well then, I’m glad you two got all that candy. Now, let’s hurry up and get you guys home so you can get ready for school tomorrow!”
But the children didn’t move an inch. Actually, they looked like they were going to tell you something. You lift a brow. Oh no, they’re going to look at each other. They looked at each other and then glanced back at you. Oh, God, no. “Uhhh, Y/n, we were thinking.” Big sister Tsumiki is always the one who asks the following question. “Can we stay over?”
You inhale a massive breath, yet you do your best not to exhale a heavy sigh. “Kids, you promised to keep the overnight stays to three at max per month. This will be the fifth!”
“Yeah, but it’s dark out. Plus, it’s way past our bedtime.” The younger chimes in with a tiny pout. “We’ll be asleep by the time Dad gets us home.”
And here comes Tsumiki with the tag-team response to add on. “And that means he’ll have to make continuous trips back and forth from the car. Picking me and Megumi up, getting our bookbags, the bags full of candy, the whole thing! We already packed up our PJs just in case.”
You stood there staring at the two in astonishment. There’s no way they thoroughly planned this out. There’s just no way… And to make it worse, they were making valid arguments. You open your mouth to say something, but the two give the best puppy eyes they can. The wave of guilt hits like a train, internally cringing. You turn to Toji, who still sits on the couch, and the motherfucker only gives you a shrug. Wow, what a helpful father he is.
You groan into your hands, shaking your head while looking at the kids who wait for your verdict. “…Alright, you can stay as long as you PROMISE to put those candy bags in my bedroom closet. Deal?” The happy smiles and aggressive head shakes should answer your question. “Good, now go ahead and take your showers before you head for bed.” They rushed to the stairs by the time you finished that sentence, so enthusiastic about staying the night at your house, and you can’t help but smile hearing their footsteps run up the stairs.
With that being said, you turn to the older man again. Your brows are trenched down, but your smile is still present. “So, you legit just sat there and let those two tag-team me like that? In my own house?”
Another shrug with a dumb smirk on his handsome face. “Told you: too smart fr’ me to catch up.” You shake your head before exiting to get the kids and guest rooms ready, leaving him with the television.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
The midnight hour has finally danced its way into the darkness of the night. Halloween is finally over, and the month of October is no more. The pitter-patter sound of the rain cleanses the neighborhood of its merits and festivities that partook hours ago, ready for a new phase of the year to take over.
After having the guest room ready with sheets and sleepwear for Toji and kissing the kids goodnight, you rinse your stress off with a nice shower and put on your pajamas to get ready for bed. After you turn the lights off, you drape the comforter over your figure as your body sinks with the cozy sheets and pillowcase. Your eyes close while focusing on the curtains of your window, the only light piercing inside being the lampposts by the street.
…Well, at least that’s what’s supposed to happen. But that’s not the case because you’re not the only one lying comfortably on your mattress. Instead, Toji is here with you, in your room, on your bed, his chest to your back, and his hand roaming inside your oversized shirt. Your lips are now connected with his, sharing your erotic moans with his enticing groans, and you get a little louder as his fingers cup and play with your breast.
“Mmphh…Ahhhh, I thought I told you you’re sleeping in the guest room—Nmmff!” He tweezes your nipple with his forefinger and thumb roughly.
“And I thought you’d be smart enough to know that wasn’t gonna happen.” Toji kisses the crook of your neck, drawing near your ear for him to whisper. “Besides, look at you. Still sleepin’ with no underwear on?”
“Hmph, only when I have a man around the house.” That answer got you another rough tweak on your nip and a purposeful gnaw to your ear. You knew he’d react like that, never liking the mention of another man leaving your mouth – especially during an intimate time like this.
“That so? What man you know that can handle all this?” Toji then moves from his side to be between your legs, pulling up your shirt to fully expose your chest. And your breathe hitches while his free hand travels down your abdomen to your bottoms.
“Ahhhh, no one. Just you...” You look at him with half-lidded eyes, taking in his reaction to what you said. The salacious grin on his face becoming broader should entail that he greatly loved that retort.
He brings his face to your other unattended nipple, “Good answer, princess.” The nub of your breast enters his mouth, and the wet warmth of his tongue greets it with lapped motions and grazes from his teeth. Despite that, it doesn’t distract you from the fact your bottoms are pulled down with ease and are thrown to the bedroom floor, leaving your cunt out for him, your erotic fluids seeping and glistening from the outside lights.
Toji plays with your folds until he can stuff his pointer finger into your chasm, the insertion resulting in your body’s jolt. It’s been a long while since you had his thick digit inside you, playing and scraping the inner walls to evoke whimpers. God, it felt so good, this satisfying feeling returning to awaken your body to his touch. He interacts with your body as if he’s the only person who knows how to get you going – and it’s the truth. No one can put you in a blissful haze quicker than this man. And you’d prefer to keep it that way.
The addition of his middle finger into your leaky entrance startles you, the thick digit making its way in with such vigor that he uses both fingers to scrape the velvety texture of your walls. Your eyes are now screwed shut at the growing commotion between your thighs, and the heat within your body flourishing all around gets to your head. “—Khmm, Oh fuuck, Toji. Please, don’t stop.”
With a soft ‘pop’ noise from his lips, Toji replies to your demands. “I’m sorry, what’s my name again?” You giggle with trenched brows. Of course, how could I forget?
“Nmmph, D-Daddy, pleaseee, I’m so clo—Ahhhann!!” He puts his thumb to your clit, grinding down on it unexpectedly. “I wanna cum, pleaseee…”
“Hmmm, good girl,” he teased, laying down kisses, nibbling on the skin of your stomach and inner thighs until he arrives at your leaking slit. Your body jerks up from the bed when you feel the cold, wet muscle slowly lick on your clitoris before ravaging your folds. The sounds of his mouth on your cunt are so lewd to the ear, slurping noises from his lips with the lapping motions of his tongue claiming your come are too much for you. And when he uses his hand to swipe and pinch your clit? Oh, it’s a wrap. Your release comes out without control, biting down on your bottom lip to make sure your cries don’t leave this space for the kids to hear. Their room is on the other side down the hall; tonight isn’t the night for too many risks.
When your trembling body calms down and subsides, Toji withdraws his face from between your thighs. Your essence paints his mouth, and he wipes his chin clean while licking the remnants that coat his scarred lips. “Hmph, missed tastin’ you like that.” You open your eyes when your high finally evades you, watching your ex-husband pull down his sweats. His erection springs out and hits his stomach, your mind going rampant with thoughts as you ogle at his freed limb. Shit, it’s been so long. Will that shit even fit me again?
“Don’t think it’ll fit, baby?” Damn him, he loves teasing you. Toji then discards his black wife-beater, at long last revealing his well-built, brawny physique that has you drooling for him. He uses his hands to maneuver your legs—your knees pushed to your chest as your legs propped up on his shoulders. A position you’re all too familiar with. Your eyes don’t leave Toji’s cock as he aligns his cock to your slick-coated folds. “Take some breaths fr’ me, sweetie. Can’t take care of you when you’re all tense.”
You take up on his advice and begin taking deep breaths, reminding yourself to maintain the steady pattern as he pushes the tip of his dick between the lips of your cunt. Every inhale is where he nudges into the hole of your inner cavern, and every exhale gives you time to breathe out the pain that comes in for a split second. This carries on until the cockhead wedges itself perfectly into your vagina, along with the inches of his girth that stretches until the base kisses your lips, the tip of him kissing your cervix. Tears swell up in your eyes, taking more deep breaths to prepare yourself for what’s about to come.
“Oooh fuuuck…Heh, yeah, that’s my baby right there. Fittin’ so perfect fr’ me, mama…” He puts his weight on you, keeping your figure unmoving under his bow.
“Nmmmf, Daddyyy,” you’re forced to take in all of him, and drool trails down your lips with no hope of taking care of it. “…I’m so full, you’re too much…”
“I know, sweetie, I know.” He wipes your spit after kissing your forehead. How gentle compared to what you’re about to go through. “Gonna move now.” His thrusts start slow for the two of you to adjust to each other; the feeling of his length’s veins coming in and out of your chasm is so euphoric, and the kisses to your cervix want your body to writhe and squirm. But you’re bent into this position for a reason: forced to submit to him no matter what. So you do just that.
Yet your horny haze gets more potent once he picks up the pace, rutting into you with increased speed. Your slit, still sensitive from earlier, gets overstimulated with the constant grazes on your gummy walls and jabs to your tender cervix. It takes everything in your power not to come so early.
“—Hahhhh, Nmmph. Oh, shit, shit, shit…” Toji groans above you, the thrusts of his pelvis increase to an irregular rhythm, grinding deep into your cunt to the point of uncontrollable babbles escaping your lips. His bullying on your insides results in you gripping his length hard, causing the older man to hiss and moan at your contractions. “—Ohhhfuuuckk!! Jesus Christ, baby. Y’re gonna make me go crazy.”
As if that wasn’t already happening now that he pistons his cock into your wetness, your brain turning into mush from the onslaught of ruts to your puffy wet chasm. Tears stream down your face, and more drool follows down with more precise hits to your delicate canal. The pounding in your head makes it hard to think of anything else, the squelching noises and paps of Toji’s balls hitting your cunt making it worse.
“D-Daddyyy, I’m—Ohoooo!! Oh, Jesus, ohhhshit!” You can’t formulate a proper sentence, too engulfed with the electrifying sensations coursing through your body.
“Damn, you feel too fucking good—Hnngh!!” Toji places his forehead on yours, resting his entire weight on you while his hips have a mind of their own. “‘Bout to make me knock you up…”
Oh, good Lord. The mere thought of having a child is the last thing that should be on your mind. But in a time like this, who in their right mind would be thinking straight? “Nnnfff! Oh God, pleaseee, fill me up, Daddyy!” Green eyes narrow with trenched brows. “—Pleasepleasepleaseee!! I want you to fill me up so bad, I want it, I want—Hyaaaaa!!”
How can he deny your desperate, teary pleas when you’re urging him on like this? “Heh, you’re so fuckin’ sexy, mama.” Toji captures your lips with his, your mewls taken by him as you sink further into your pleasurable thrill.
Sporadic thrusts of his pelvis produce more raunchy noises in the joining of your sexes, his heavy balls smacking on your cunt as he drives the base of his cock straight into you. Your slit is now a puffy mess, come and slick form a soapy mess that Toji now harbors a milky ring around his girth. A few rushed, sloppy thrusts heighten your high once more, and then Toji presses his pelvis down to the hilt on one final, harsh thrust, unloading his seed into your aching folds. And your climax follows in a few seconds, the walls of your cunt fluttering on his pulsating dick as your essence soaks him. Your muffled shrieks are received by him, quivering under him until the aftershocks wash through your body.
Once you two breathe at a steady tempo and the nerves of your sweaty bodies fall still, the kiss is broken with heavy pants and a string of spit that links you two together. Toji buries his face between your neck and shoulder, licking and kissing your skin as you’re allowed time to experience your clarity.
“Hmmm…You know I’m not done yet, princess.” Toji mumbles to your ear before stationing your legs off his shoulders for them to rest.
“Yeah, I know, big guy.” You tease him with a breathless laugh, kissing him on the temple. “Always wanting more…”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
“…So, you’re telling me you had your ex-husband spend the night? Not just the kids?”
“Yup, that’s what happened.”
This morning was different from your usual routine – well, you can’t say it’s different if you have done it before, huh? After five years of divorce, you thought you’d be so used to waking up and getting ready for work without worrying about others. However, this morning proves otherwise.
It felt natural walking into the kids’ room and lightly shaking them awake, telling them to get ready while you whip up something quick for them to eat as Toji showers (using your bathroom, by the way). Watching the kids run down the stairs and eat breakfast puts a smile on your face, reminiscing about the good old days when they were younger and teenier. It sometimes feels surreal doing the same thing for them now that they’re getting older and taller. But seeing them bicker and interact with each other in your presence never fails to warm your heart.
When Toji’s finished freshening up and loading his kids’ stuff in his truck, it’s time to bid them farewell for their departure for school. You give them final touch-ups on their hair and outfits, reminding them to be safe and not get into trouble (especially Megumi, now that the boy’s been getting into fights). And before they rush to the car, you hug them and give each a kiss on the cheek. Here is where the warm feeling inside your heart begins to deteriorate, not wanting to let them go. Yet, for their sake – and education – you release them and hope for the best.
The last to leave was Toji, who came from the kitchen to the front door with a paper plate wrapped in foil in one hand. His name is written boldly by a black Sharpie. “This fr' me?”
“No, it’s for Shiu Kong, for dealing with you all the time.” You stick your tongue out at Toji as he glares at you, not even moving out of the way while he exits through the door. “You better eat that when you get to work, you have a terrible habit of skipping lunch.”
“Whatever ya say, mom.” He pesters you with the title, knowing you’re technically not a mother anymore. Yet it only makes you smile knowing he notices your maternal side.
“Don’t forget to text me when Tsumiki’s soccer game is next week.” You watch him go down the porch stairs.
“Will do.”He whistles.
“And Toji?”
The man stops walking to turn to you, his forest green eyes fixed on you so quickly that you almost forget what you want to say. Or what you wanted to do. You place your fingers on your lips and blow a kiss with an outward gesture. It was an old habit you did whenever he left, something you can’t seem to get out of practice with. It’s embroidered in your mind at this point.
And when he catches the kiss with his free hand and places it on his chest, it makes your heart skip a beat. Toji grins, “I’ll be damned if that was fr' Shiu, too.”
You snicker with a shaken head. “Drive safe, Toji.” Closing the front door, you stand there for a while. Your smile doesn’t falter; it gets bigger as you replay the moment instead. Thinking about him, hearing him, seeing him, it all drives you crazy. And that’s a good thing…right?
“I don’t know, sounds like you still kinda care about the guy.”
“Of course I do,” So here you are, sitting in your living room enjoying the rays of the sunset decorating the space, in a video call with your best friends, Utahime and Mei Mei. You reply to the former’s comment. “Just because I don’t have the ring on my finger doesn’t mean I shouldn’t care about him. I mean, he’s the father of two lovely children.”
“Shoot, you’re better than me, then.” The dark-haired woman admits. “But you’re kinda proving my point, Y/n. Even when you don’t have the ring on, you two act like the same old couple, and it’s definitely not just for the kids’ sake. Let’s be real here.”
You try to interject, but the pale-blue-haired other, Mei Mei, intervenes, “I agree. It’s one thing if you let the children stay over, but he also wanted to spend the night. Sure, he could’ve been tired from driving all day and such. However, if you’re still seeing a man for the last five years – while legally unbound – and he says he wants to spend the night under your roof, which is rare, that should ring some bells at least.”
“I know, it did…” you nod along with what your friend is saying, throwing your head back with a heavy sigh. “But it’s not like he’s never spent the night here before, nor is he banished from stepping inside.”
“Oh? Then why is this time different from the others?”
Utahime jumps in after Mei Mei’s chirp. “Yeah, you’re telling us about all these nostalgic lovey-dovey feelings as if you’re falling in love with him all over again. What, did you two have sex or something?”
An open mouth, yet no words come out, leaving you in a predicament. You could’ve just lied or swerved the subject to something else. But you didn’t. And the two women on the screen lift their brows with hooded eyes, a look meaning a thousand words. You couldn’t even explain yourself either because a sudden knock on your door captured the attention of all three of you.
You stand up and walk towards the door, your friends still on call on the phone at hand. Opening the door, you’re almost stunned to see in front of you. Tsumiki and Megumi with nervous smiles, and their father at the car collecting the same duffles bags from last night. You’re kidding.
“Hey, kids.” The two of them gulped from not calling them by their names. You bring up the phone to face the screen to them. “Say hello to Auntie Mei Mei and Utahime.” The women on the line smile and wave at the children, who sheepishly wave back.
“Hi, aunties.” Megumi greets them, and then his eyes drift back to you. “So, Y/n—“
“What did you forget this time?” Straight to the point, no room for excuses.
“It was Miki this time! She forgot her soccer cleats.” The older sibling gawks at her younger brother for calling her out.
“Tsumiki, I know you have cleats at home.”
“I do, but these are special! You bought them for my birthday, and I’ve been wearing them to every game ever since! So, I was scared when I couldn’t find them at home.” The brunette was quick to defend her stand. “Also, Dad doesn’t feel like driving up here and then back. So…can we…”
You close your eyes and bring the phone to your face to shield your vexation. Twice in a row, the sixth time this month. You can hear the giggles of your friends from the other side of the phone, adding more fuel to the fire. You don’t look up until you hear heavy footsteps on the porch, seeing Toji holding both duffle bags with a hand and shoulder. He stares at you as you stare at him, a silent conversation on how to handle this situation. And when he shrugs with lifted brows, you realize it’s no use and release the long-awaited sigh.
“….If I see one more thing being left behind here, you guys can’t come back till December, understand?” It wasn’t anything serious, but enough for the kids to know you weren’t joking. They nod their heads in unison while you roll your eyes. “Okay, get in here.” They rushed inside with gleeful laughs, the shuffling of their backpacks following along with them. Your eyes then drift to Toji as he walks up to you. “Did you forget something here, too?”
“Yeah,” you lift a brow when he drops Megumi’s bag to the floor. Before you can register his hand on your chin, you squeak when he brings his lips to yours. It lasted for seconds, but the kiss was sweet and tender, sucking on your lip before letting go with a playful bite. “Meant to give you that when you woke up. Thanks fr' the food, mama.”
Toji picks the bag up and walks inside your home to put the bags in the rooms, leaving you standing on the porch with an astounded expression. You couldn’t appropriately calibrate your thoughts until you heard faint laughs from the phone. Then, you realize your best friends witnessed the entire scene that transpired.
Utahime, with the slyest leer, was the first to say something. “Oh yeah, he laid that pipe on you good, without a doubt.”
“Mhmm,” Mei Mei agrees with a chuckle. “And I'm guessing he’s gonna do it again tonight. Isn’t that right, Y/n?”
You end the video call with a heated face. “Sh-Shut your damn mouths!!” Again, you groan into your hands before returning inside. Thank God I still have those birth control pills...
♱ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2023 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by rororogi mogera + dividers by the amazing @/cafekitsune!!
#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑭𝒊𝒄𝒔#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#toji x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#toji smut#toji fushiguro smut#toji x you#toji x y/n#fushiguro toji x reader#fushiguro toji x you#toji fanfic#fushiguro toji smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen fic#jjk imagines#jjk fic
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(Long post, sorry y'all)
A little more than two years ago now, my grandmother passed away. She and my grandpa had moved down to my home town a few years before so we could take care of them. I brought them groceries once a week, helped them write checks, fixed tvs, and found lost things. I was really close with my grandma.
In addition to her hilarious personality and dry wit, one of my favorite things about her was that she was a painter and a crafter like me! She used to crochet, and I took her to the craft store a couple of times so she could get more yarn and books on crochet. But her arthritis and the shaking in her hands kept getting worse, so she eventually had to stop.
She kept her most recent project, a granny square blanket, safely packed away in a plastic bin. She told all of us she was going to finish it one day.
Her hands never got better, and when she got sick, and we found out it was cancer, she rapidly deteriorated.
After she passed, I went to work helping my mom clean out my grandparents apartment so we could move my grandpa in with her. In our frantic cleaning, I found that bin again:
DOZENS of granny squares, dozens of half used skeins. I asked my mom what she wanted me to do with it, and she said she didn't care. I set it aside and later took it home.
Maybe a month later, that tumblr post about the Loose Ends Project was going around. It felt like a sign--I was never going to learn to crochet in order to finish my grandmother's blanket. But they might be able to help!
So I filled out the interest form. They got back to me SUPER quick. And maybe 2 weeks later, I was paired with volunteer in my state (only 2 hours away!) and the box of yarn, granny squares, and my grandmother's crochet hook were in the mail. That was at the end of January this year.
Over the next couple of months, my "finisher" emailed me regular updates on her progress, and asked me questions on my preferences for how she constructed the final blanket.
At the end of August, the blanket was done!
I had always intended the blanket to be a gift for my mother. So I cleaned it up, put it in the only bag I had big enough to fit it, and drove to my mom's. I gave the blanket to her and she was gobsmacked. I explained to her all about Loose Ends, and how someone volunteered to finish the piece for us. She was speechless. (I was quite pleased with this, because I am not the best at giving gifts, so this was a pretty exciting reaction!)
She said that it was the most thoughtful gift she had ever been given. She said "your grandma would love this". To which I replied, "yeah, I know she really wanted to finish it a couple of years ago". But that was when my mom dropped the bomb of a century on me--she told me that my grandma had started making those granny squares OVER 30 YEARS AGO. She had started the blanket when my grandpa was staying in the hospital, but that was back when my mom was younger than I am now! My grandma had packed them all away, planning on finishing it, when my grandpa was sent home from the hospital. Then it went from house to house, from condo in Chicago to their apartment in my hometown. All that time and my grandma had wanted to finish it, but couldn't. First because she was busy, then because she forgot how to do it, then because of her arthritis, and then because of the cancer. My mom said she had given up on expecting my grandma to finish it.
She said I brought a piece of her childhood with her mom out of the past.
And really, all of this is to say, if you have seen or heard about the Loose Ends Project and have an uncompleted project or piece from a loved one who has passed away--these are your people. They were so kind and treated my project with such care. That box probably would have been found by my own grandkids one day if I hadn't heard about Loose Ends.
Five stars, absolutely worth it!
(From what I understand, you can sign up to volunteer too! If you have time to share, it might be worth checking out!)
#loose ends#the loose ends project#joy knits#text#long post#knit#knitting#crochet#crocheting#craft#crafting#diy#crochetblr#yarnblr#yarn#knitblr
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𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞.
Synopsis: What I think Alastors wife would be like, if he had one of course.
Warnings: mentions of blood, pinning, harassment?, Alastor being himself, not in a specific time period but at some point shifts to hell? Let me know if anyone is interested in a part two!!
Navigation!! // Masterlist!! // Serendipity Writes (event)
Alastors wife probably didnt like him at first, and that’s a guarantee. He likes a challenge, but Alastor also likes being liked by people. It fills his ego, makes him feel good about himself. He likes to watch people stumble and fall but quite literally cracks under the pressure of doing just that when it comes to winning you over. Chances were he was constantly trying to figure you out, for two reasons. One, being that he didn’t understand how you couldn’t like him. I mean come on, look at him! He’s got the charm, the manners, the style and the class, the status. What more could you want? The second reason being, the more you denied him, the more he took it as a challenge, the more he wanted you.
Well, surprise surprise, you dont like people with an image to keep up; and to his dismay, that’s exactly what he does. He projects an image. One he refuses to change, and even after marrying you, still doesn’t drop the image, but starts to become more real and honest with himself.
“People who project an image of themselves to others are just trying to fool themselves into being someone they aren’t.” Was what you told him.
Alastor had also asked you out multiple times before you finally said yes. Everyone knows Alastor is very picky with the people he chooses to surround himself with. Everyone he associates with is either there to serve him, or to provide him with something, even if they’re unaware of it. Which only made you trust him less. What purpose did you serve him? What if one day he found you no longer useful and tossed you to the side? Well what were you to do then?
Denying him proved to be a challenge in itself, seeing that he’s quite literally everywhere all at once.
He’d try cheap tricks first. Buying you gifts, constantly showing up at your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers or a stuffed animal. One time he even got you a whole gift basket of your favorite treats. How sweet~ if it was actually about you and not him just trying to patch up his ego. Well at least that was what you thought on the matter.
If that didnt work he’d resort to going ghost. After all, people only miss you when you’re gone right? Well not in this case. He had left you alone physically, at least to your knowledge, but he had still kept a close watch on you. Why, he just knew it would bother you that he suddenly stopped! Until he overheard you speaking with a friend about how happy you were to finally get some peace and quiet. Well that simply wouldn’t do. After all, you should always make an impact, and what kind of impact would he be leaving on you if you went back to your old boring life? No no that just wont do dear.
He’ll start showing back up at your doorstep, taking you on surprise outing to force you to spend time with him. He’ll take you on a walk around a nearby park, a restaurant one day, the picture show the next. He has a long list of places to take you, so you’ll never go to the same place twice! Get your dancing shoes because he’s gonna take you out to the town for the night, after all the city never sleeps! This is when he becomes less forceful, but more of a decent calm. He begins to listen more when you speak, and you actually begin to care about what he’s saying, what a shock!
It’s almost like a switch flips after your outings. He’ll take you to an orchestra show, snickering to himself when he sees your eyes begin to water as the show closes out. He’ll force you to hold onto his arm as he walks you across the street on a rainy night, making sure you don’t slip or trip on the wet pavement. If you ever do, he’ll try his best to catch you and if he doesn’t? Oh what a nightmare, it seems he’s fallen too! For you that is~
You two begin to feel closer, not only physically but emotionally. He gets you to open up about your personal struggles, and in turn, he’ll share some of his own, but not too much. He doesn’t allow himself to be fully and completely vulnerable with you, not yet. But he does try his best to sympathize with you when you share your piece of mind with him. He feels accomplished to know this part of you, and his ego is the last thing on his mind anymore, but instead you take up all the space.
He doesn’t use pet names for you, not cute ones anyway. He’ll call you his devilish belladonna, especially if you love flowers. His creepy spider Lillie. He’ll often speak in the ‘language of flowers’, and will educate you on it if you don’t know so you know exactly what he’s talking about.
He’s the type of person to correct people in public to make them feel stupid, but he never does that with you. Instead he’ll wait until it’s just the two of you and tell you jokingly how wrong you were. You’ll get upset because he let you look like a fool, but in his mind he’s just protecting your feelings. If anyone else corrects you, they’ll have their mouth sewn shut that’s for sure!
He never gets you the same bouquet of flowers. They’re always different, and every week or so you have a new one. He keeps a separate batch for himself so he knows when to get you another. That being said he also makes the bouquets himself, he does not buy them for you already made.
When you finally take Alastor up on his offer to court you properly, he is over the moon about it! Finally, you seem to be coming to your senses dear! Though you quickly follow that comment up with a “Let the blood rush to your head first.” He just bats his lashes at you with a smile. You always know how to make him feel so loved!
Gets very jealous very easily. If he sees you laughing with someone that isn’t him, he’ll size them up before deciding if they’re a threat or not. Heaven forbid anyone actually put their hands on you and uh oh! Limb of the floor someone come get it!
His possessive nature is rooted in abandonment, and thus being said, he has deep attachment issues to you. You are never out of his sight when you two begin dating, and you’re hardly ever far from him in general. You two dress similarly too, especially if you’re from the same era. He’ll switch up your wardrobe slowly so it complements his.
He isn’t one for strong PDA unless he feels like he needs too or just has a strong want too. Usually it’s an arm around your waist, or you hanging onto his arm loosely. The most he’ll ever really do is a kiss on the back of your hand or to your temple. That being said, he’s like this for various reasons.
One, he has a lot of enemies, which means that not not only does that put you in danger, but if you’re also a powerful overlord, it puts him at risk too, though he doesn’t care much about that part.
Second, he doesn’t like physical contact much, and though he always makes an exception for you, he has his image and pristine reputation to keep up. Which you extremely dislike but tolerate because it’s Alastor and if he hasn’t changed much in centuries, nothings going to change ever.
Alastor is very very fond of you, whether you believe it or not. Your fiery attitude has him whipped more than he likes to admit. He’ll joke with other sinners that he’d sacrifice you to save himself but you both know that isn’t true, his nervous ticks prove it to be false, if you do say so yourself.
He’s very fidgety. He’ll tug a piece of your clothing or twirl a strand of your hair between his claws. If you claim he’s messing up your hair he’ll cast a tornado of shadows around you to fuck it up even more, and then smiling at you lovingly when you threaten to cut his ears off because you can’t tell if they’re his hair or just furry ass ears. You always give him a good laugh.
Other sinners are actually convinced you both hate each other, but turf wars on the news show that you two are the most in love when you’re wreaking havoc on innocent sinners for no possible reason other than the fact you two had an argument and the best way to settle it? Dancing in the rain, which actually isn’t rain, just blood falling from the sky because you like to kill people for fun.
“My darling looks the best in red if I do say so myself! Especially if she’s dressed by another’s remains, oh the beauty!”
Alastor has and will continue to get in his feelings about you and his mother getting along so well. He loves you both to pieces, so seeing his two favorite people together makes his dead heart swell with joy.
He’ll ask you to accompany him to the tailors, he values your opinion more than others so you often make adjustments to his suit and he’s just like ‘Whatever she says that’s what’s going on the suit.’ You also make him your personal dressing doll, trying different patterns and styles on him for fun. Alastor is a true skinny jeans hater and he will die on that hill, again. He really appreciates the 60’s style, but prefers to stick to his own decade.
He will take you out hunting with him, and the two of you share breakfast together with the fresh meat you’ve caught. He only gets the best quality for you because he refuses to have you two ‘eating like chums’. A restaurant tried to lie to the two of you, saying their meat was high quality and fresh. Alastor killed everyone in it and you two shared remains like a true power couple. Hells finest of course. ;)
He’s very critical of picking out jewelry for you. Hunting for the perfect ring for you took him ages, mainly because he knew exactly what he wanted but no jeweler had what he wanted all in one ring. So instead he forces them to make him a custom one. Torn limbs and bloody parts later, you have the ring that Alastor worked so hard to give you. He proposes to you Extermination day, claiming he’d love to spend another year in hell with you before the angels come to rip you two apart from each other. It was such a sweet day, at least to you it was.
The type of relationship where he plays the piano and you sing. He loves when you sing and will gush about you to anyone in sight even if he doesn’t know them.
Is very needy in private. He’s a stage 10000 clinger, and will stick to you like his life depends on it, but will be damned if anyone catches him. You don’t tell anyone about it, you like the private life.
You two have cook offs all the time. You make the hotel staff judge, and ultimately Niffty is the tie breaker because she’s brutally honest. Once she told Alastor he should stay out of the kitchen because women were better at it for a reason… harsh!
He was fine though, he got her back by ridding the hotel of bugs. He knows she likes chasing them around and for that she sobbed at his feet for ten minutes asking him to bring them back. It didn’t take much actually, Sir Pentious brought them back on his own, much to Charlies dismay.
He loves to read with you. You two often read a book and once you both finish you have a tea session over it. It starts off being about the book and then somehow shifts to just gossiping and talking shit about the other overlords, except for Rosie, we love Rosie in this household.
Speaking of, Rosie is usually where you get your clothes from. She’s a sweetheart when she isn’t picking pieces of muscle from her teeth, that sharp smile is a killer! She loves to talk about Alastor with you, and usually she’s where you go after you two have had an argument. You’re also her personal Barbie doll. She puts you in outfits and she and Alastor judge over them. Nine times out of ten you leave her boutique with a new wardrobe every time.
Now let’s talk about Vox.
Honestly the whole reason Vox knows about you is probably because he was digging through Alastors shit. But when he sees you? Oh lord, this man is HOOKED.
He doesn’t even know how Alastor managed to get you entangled with him. He finds out about you when you and Alastor aren’t dating yet, and he basically jumps at his chance to try to be with you.
Vox will forever consider you the one that got away, you can’t change my mind.
Alastor has proven time and time again that he’s basically better than Vox. He took a seven year back, came on the radio one day and boom all his viewers were back. In Alastors mind there’s no competition, just Vox being obsessed with the fact Alastor said no.
Valentino uses it against Vox all the time, and it will always make Vox buffer.
#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin alastor#hazbin demon#alastor#Alastor and vox#Hazbin hotel#helluva boss vox#hazbin hotel rosie#hazbin valentino#charlie morningstar#hazbin niffty
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I just read your pregnant wife with 141 but that got me thinking. What about horny pregnant wife with 141
Feel free to ignore this if you feel uncomfortable writing it 
-🍱 (if it’s not taken)
I haven't written smut in ages so forgive me if I'm a little rusty. 18+ only pls and thx (vaginal sex, cunnilingus)
Soap
Hooo boy! Alrighty, here we go
So for starters, that man is PENT UP. Like seriously, he's so backed up, he thinks he can feel it all the way to his esophagus
Since you first got pregnant, it's been nothing but morning sickness, aches and pains, and a total and utter lack of desire on your part
Trust him, he's tried taking care of himself in the meantime, but it's never really gotten the job done since it wasn't with you
But once you enter your second trimester and the desire has come back, it takes everything in him not to ravage you the moment you give him the green light
Why? Well, truth be told, he's scared about potentially hurting you or the baby
You know how he can get in the sack. What if he dents the wee bairn’s poor head? He's knocking (more like pounding) right on the little one’s door after all
You have to assure him that he's not going to hurt you or the baby (and please, never refer to your cervix as a door again)
So he'll start slow and gentle at first, not wanting to be too harsh, but it won't take much to get him back to fucking you hard and rough like you're used to
He's got your knees up by your chest (or, as close as they can get) while he’s drilling into you from above, snarling like an animal
When he finally finishes, it's loudddd, slamming the headboard against the wall, and he pushes his hips as far forward as they'll go while he empties four months worth of cum inside you
Ghost
I'm so sorry to have to be the one to inform you, but you're not getting that man's cock while you're pregnant
It's not because he's overly rough when you make love normally; it's just that he's not willing to take any chances when you're in such a delicate state
However, the man is inherently a giver, so with just enough whining and begging and pleading from you, he'll oblige you to some degree
He'll stick mostly to his fingers or his mouth, maybe a toy or two if you're really needy, but he's generally going to rely solely on his own skill to get you where you want to be
He'll have you recline against a mountain of pillows while he settles himself between your legs, his arms looping around your hips to hold you still for him while he works
But he doesn't just dive right in, oh no siree. The man loves to tease you – kissing your thighs, the inside of your knee, the bottom of your belly first
He'll turn you into a pathetic little thing squirming desperately for his touch, before finally granting you mercy by giving you his tongue
He'll make you cum so hard with just his mouth alone that you'll temporarily lose all thought of that gorgeous dick of his
But afterwards, if you want to return the favor, you certainly won't hear him complaining about it
Oh but trust that the moment the doctor gives the okay after you’ve given birth, he's gonna be all over you, making sure you walk funny the next morning (and the following week after that)
Gaz
Like the other two, Gaz is concerned with potentially putting you and the baby in a dangerous position
But the man is a sucker for your puppy dog eyes, so it doesn't take much convincing to get him to take you to bed
But he still wants to be safe about it, so he researches the best positions for couples to have sex while pregnant
That's how you find yourself in his lap, naked back to his chest, as he sits in one of the chairs he dragged in from the dining room
You're bouncing on his dick, hands braced on his thighs, ass smacking off the hard plane of his lower stomach as you lift up and down
His hands on your hips are more of a placeholder than a guide as he lets you set the pace, just sitting back while you take what you need from him
It doesn't even matter if he cums or not, that's honestly the farthest thing from his mind. All he cares about is making sure you're satisfied in the end
Need him to snake his hand forward, tracing the curve of your belly down, until he's circling your clit in fast, tight motions? Gladly, love.
Your thighs may burn and your eyes may water, but there's something about this position that makes him hit so deep that it leaves you gasping for more
Ultimately, your orgasm will trigger his own (nothing gets him there faster than the sound of you cumming), and afterwards he'll help you into the bath where he'll clean and massage your aching muscles better
Price
Unlike the other three men, Price is eager to fuck you the moment you show even the smallest inkling of want
What's that? His poor baby needs him to fuck her right now? Say no more, sweetheart. Hubby's come to the rescue
That man is dicking you down anytime, anywhere he can
Just got done shopping? He'll find a deserted road to pull over on. Just stepped into the shower? Might as well kills two birds with one stone
Really, it becomes a challenge to find where in your house he hasn't had you in these last few months. The kitchen, the garage, the back porch. You name it, he's done it (multiple times, in fact)
But his favorite – oh boy, his favorite without a shadow of a doubt – is when he takes you in front of your bedroom’s full length mirror
He'll hold you up from behind, standing you both on your feet, and just watch as he fucks you nice and slow
Seeing it in profile is fun when he wants to watch his dick slide in and out of you, but he's especially fond of having you directly face the mirror
There's just something about getting to watch you – that pretty face, those juicy tits, that fucking delectable rounded belly – that makes him blow his load faster than a damn rocket launch
With the number of times he's had you like this, you swear, that man of yours is trying to knock you up a second time (But shhhh. Quiet now. Don't go giving him any bright ideas, sweetheart.)
#wiw asks#john mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#john price x reader#captain john price x reader#captain price x reader#female reader#john mactavish#simon riley#kyle garrick#john price#tf 141 x reader#task force 141 x reader#cod x reader#cod mw3#call of duty#modern warfare 3#🍱 anon
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Showerhead | mattheo riddle
summary: you thought you were alone in the bathroom when your wild thoughts took over you but you suddenly hear a second voice.. and its not inside your head.
warnings: masturbating for a sec, cursing, filthy DIRTY TALK, fingering, mattheo eating out reader, unprotected p in v, enemyxlover vibe, gryffindor!reader
notes: DAMN I'M BACK! I'm sorry but I had a HUGE writing block. Also: english is not my first language so pls let me know If there'S something I can correct :)
My day was unbelievable fucked. I woke up too late, got detention because i talked to my friends while Snape was teaching us something, i spilled my food over my clothes.. twice.. after that I fell from my broomstick at the quidditch training and now i sat with Hermione, Ron and Harry in the Great Hall eating.
„Yo y/n can I copy your homework later? I got -" Ron startet but i interrupted him "Yeah yeah whatever.. guys I‘m gonna go to bed okay? See you after this." Hermione and me shared a room so I would see her later.
I rushed to our dorm, getting rid of my dirty clothes. God I needed a shower, now. I took my clothes, shower stuff and towels and started to walk towards one of the big bathrooms.
Because I wanted more privacy, I did go to one that not many students know about. Hermione once told me about it as she talked about Hogwarts in first grade.
As I walked inside, I checked If someone‘s here but I was alone. I took off my clothes and stood under one of the showers more in the corner and let the water run down my body. I sighed as I felt it on my skin, finally feeling more relaxed.
My thoughts started drifting after a while as my hands glided over my body. Damn my muscles are really sore. When was even the last time I had sex? I think it was like 3 months ago with a guy from Ravenclaw. He looked promising but merlin was I feeling disappointed after.
I couldn‘t even touch myself cause I was always around people, sharing rooms together and shit.
I bit my lip as I looked at that shower head above me. Nah I couldn‘t.. could I? Did I even have time? I mean I was in here already for like 20 minutes so I had to be in my room before curfew but god damn I was so desperate.
Oh fuck it – what is one more detention, right? I took the shower head, letting my other hand slowling wandering over my nipples. I whimpered slightly at the feeling, realising now how desperate I really was.
I took the shower head and put it where I needed it the most. My thoughts drifted again and I tried to think about someone but no face appeared until - fuck no, I can‘t think about him.. but before I could debate more with myself, his name left my lips.
"Fuck Mattheo.." my lips parted and my breathing got heavier. Merlin was I already about to cum? How pathetic, I didn‘t even touch myself properly but that kind of didn‘t matter as the next words left my mouth. "Shit.. please" i begged into the foggy air around me.
"Damn Princess.." My blood got cold and my body tensed to a point where I couldn‘t move. I swallowed as I opened my eyes and saw Mattheo Riddle standing right in front of me. The one who‘s name I just moaned.
I tried to hide my body behind my hands, a little too late. "Fuck Riddle what the hell are you doing here?!" I asked him angry. Once because I stood there completley naked and he didn‘t even tried not to look and second for my again – non existing orgasm.
He looked shamelessly over my body, scanning every inch of my skin. He had a towel hanging low on his hips, which didnt really helped the state i was in right now.
" I could ask you the same but I think I just heard what you did.." he smirked arrogant and looked at my face. "You know you could have just asked If you wanted my help."
I rolled my eyes at him as I took one of my towels from the side to hide my body but as I did I had to let go which leaded him to look at my breasts. I saw him licking his lips, looking up at my face again as I wrapped the towel around myself.
"Just because your name is Mattheo, doesn‘t mean I was thinking about you."
He grinned again, coming closer to me slowly. "Oh yeah? Then who did you mean?" I tried to think about an different Mattheo but there was no one in this school I knew with that name – besides him.
He just stood one inch away from me now, backing me into the shower again until my back hit the wall.
"Princess.. i know you did think about me, there‘s no shame in telling." I started nibbling on my bottom lip as a signal to being nervous. God he smelled so good and his face looked even more handsome now that the single drops of water fell onto his face from his still wet hair.
"And what If I was? Are you going to tell all your stupid little friends?" He chuckled "No.." his face came even closer now "just let me help you out with that." I swallowed down a clump in my troath as he said that. My pride was way too big for him to just come here and fuck me like that..right?
"Hell no I -" "Why not huh? I saw how desperate your little body looked as you just begged for more.. let me help you with that, I‘m gonna make you cum within the first minutes." Now his arrogant smile was back, his breath hitting my lips now.
"Yeah all of you boys say that, leaving me unsatisfied after." I huffed, looking away from his piercing eyes.
"Let‘s make a deal little one.. I‘m gonna eat you out and If I don‘t make you cum within the, lets say: five minutes? I‘ll leave and never bother you again.."
I looked at his lips while he was talking. They looked so soft and kissable – fuck was I really considering what he said? I mean he‘s a Riddle and a stupid little fucker but maybe that‘s just what I needed right now. Stupid little Fucker named Mattheo Riddle.
"And what If you make me cum?" i looked up at his eyes again. He towered his head over mine grinning, coming down to my ear and whispered "..then you‘re mine for the night." He smiled almost devilish and I know I should‘ve said no but damn 3 months were starting to get the best of me.
"Deal." It felt like as If I just signed up for the devil. His smile grew at my words and he pushed me against the wall this time, unwrapping the towel i just put on.
"Damn your body looks so good, just perfect for me to eat." Shivers went down my spine at his words right towards my - " I hope you know what you just got yourself into." Suddenly he took me by my hips, lifting me up against the wall again as I wrapped my legs around his hips.
"It‘s kind of unfair that you still have your towel on, don‘t you think?“ "Oh don‘t worry princess, it‘s coming off very soon."
He took one hand away from supporting my ass, to my cheek. He looked deep into my eyes, almost staring into my soul. He closed the gap between us, kissing me like no boy ever did before in my whole life. The kiss was passionate, heated and longing. Almost as If we would seperate, we couldn‘t breathe.
I felt the tip of his tounge slide over my bottom lip which made me moan slightly. He smiled against my lips and pressed himself harder against me.
I opened my mouth slowly, which he took as a opportunity to explore my mouth with his tounge fighting over control with mine.
He let go of my lips what almost costed me a whimper but I pressed my lips together. He took me by my hips again, lifting me higher until I sat on his shoulders, my eyes going wide. Damn I don‘t think I need 5 minutes.
"You ready?" he mumbled against my inner tight he started kissing softly with his wet lips. I just let out a deep breathe and nodded, putting my hands on his hair.
He started kissing higher up until his mouth was just an inch away from my pussy. "5 Minutes are alredy starting" I chocked out, but in reality I just wanted him so start.
I could feel him grinning like an little ass but these thoughts were thrown out of the window as his tounge touched my clit.
I held in my breathe for a second as he started to kitten lick my clit and massaging my tights with his hands. I buckled against his face but he was faster and backed away. I let out a desperate whine at the loss of contact.
"Beg me.." he told me looking up at me with his chocolate brown eyes. Shit who was I even to deny that? Now wasn‘t really the moment for too much pride. "Please.." He raised his eyebrows " Please what?" "Please eat me out Mattheo, I need it - please.."
Satisfied with my answer he licked flat over my pussy, focusing on my clit again as he started to suck it. "Oh my-" my lips parted and my hands flew into his hair again, pressing his face deeper between my legs.
"Fuck that feels good" i moaned and arched my back off the wall as I felt something deep down in my stomach. Shit he didn‘t even do much but give my clit some attention - really good attention - and I was already close again.
I felt his hand going under my tight and his thumb being places on my clit. He moved his finger in circular motions, sliding his tounge to by entrance, fucking me with it.
"M-mattheo please!“ shamelessly i bucked my hips and cried out his name.
"You close baby?" he asked, mumbling against my wet skin. I just nodded breathless until I felt a sharp and powerful feeling in my abdomen.
It completely crushed me. Everything around me went black for a few seconds and I couldnt hear anything. I just came so hard on Mattheo‘s tounge that I didn‘t even realise where I was for a short moment.
I looked down on me, looking in Mattheo‘s eyes, already looking at me. "You taste so good baby."
He slowly lets me down again but holds me as we both notice how weak my knees are. "Damn I didnt expect that.." i breathe out and look at his lips, still glistening from my juices.
"I think you lost our deal.." he grinned and startet slowly kissing my neck. I chuckle, nodding just slowly, thinking about how much I actually want him and not caring about the fact that I lost.
"..but you don‘t really seem to care huh." he grins and slowly rubs my back before turning me around so I faced the wall. "Hands on the wall baby." No matter what he said, I always heard him smiling. Smug little ass. "Spread your legs princess, that's it.. wider." My stomach twisted at his vulgar words, never ever did a boy talk to me like that.
I did as he said, spread my legs even wider while my hands touched the cold wall. "Hmm now arch your back for me."
I felt his hands slither around my waist down to my lover stomach. Every touch of his send shivers down my spine. Suddenly, I felt his breath against my ear, his lips kissing the shell of it as he murmurs with a deep voice. "I'm going to fuck every last thought out of this pretty little head." "Stop teasing me and do it!"
He chuckles darkly and I feel the tips of his fingers wandering slowly over my pussy. "Do you really think you're in a position to give orders?" Goosebumps.
As I didn't answer him he lightly brushed his finger over my clit, making me shiver again, while brushing soft kisses across my back.
"Please." I let out a whimper, arching my back just a little more and pushing my hips into his body. Then, I felt him at my entrance, pressing the tip of his cock against my clit, just where his fingers had been a second ago.
"Beg. Fucking let me hear how much you want this cock." he whispers into my ear, his hot breath hitting my ear. My whole body shudders and I can't help it but do as he tells me to.
"Mattheo please I need you. I need to feel you, I'll do anything." I feel myself almost crying from the frustration and arousal. "Good Girl." he groans before he slowly enters me. Fuck.
"Oh Shit baby, you feel so tight." Mattheo grunted shamelessly as my walls clenched around him. My breathing got heavy and I bite my bottom lip to hide my moans.
"Don't hold back." he commands and just so, I let my lip go and whimper out his name.
"Hmm just like that princess." He pushes further inside of me, groaning at the feeling. I feel so full of him, I can't think straight besides of him and how good he feels.
Abruptly he started moving his hips fast an hard against my ass, leaving my mouth hanging wide open. " Oh fuck, Mattheo!" I cried out at the sensation. His hand started to wander up and down my body, over my back, my stomach, my tits - playing with my nipples.
"What, you want gentle? Wrong fucking address." God where has he been all these months? It feels like he just fills that hole inside of me - literally.
I hear him panting behind me, not slowing down with the movement of his hips. "Shit I would've fucked you way sooner If knew you had such a tight little pussy, just waiting for me to come and fuck it sore."
I hiss as he takes my hair into his fist and yanks my head backwards so It would lay against his shoulder while my back is still arched and he presses me against him. My hands roam over his arm that holds me in the middle of my body and I close my eyes. I'm definitely gonna be sore tomorrow.
I felt him changing the angle of his hips a little and my eyes almost bulged out of my head. "Oh my god!" I almost scream, forgetting that someone could hear us, even tho not many know about this bathroom. "Fuck yes, I feel you clenching around me princess. Does that feel good hm?" he teases and bites my neck gently.
Words coiled inside my throat, coming out as broken sobs, telling him I'm wanting more. "You're still holding back, just let go."
So I screamed his name again, over and over again, until I felt a sharp pang in my stomach. His hand let go of my body, his second hand still in my hair. He grabbed the shower head and turned the pressure higher before he holded it right against my clit.
I was a whimpering and sobbing mess at this point, begging him to let me come. "Look at me. I wanna see you coming around my cock." He tugs at my hair and my eyes roll back to look into his, which gave me the rest I just needed to come.
Looking into his eyes made my walls clench around him again, leaving his mouth hanging wide open. "Shit.." he grunted and closed his eyes as his rhythm became more erratic. Just as I slowly came down from my high, I felt him pulling out of me and coming all over my back, spreading his hot cum.
"Fucking hell.." he breathed out and slowly let go of my hair and hanging the shower head back onto the wall after washing his cum off of my back. I turned around and looked up at him, smiling slightly.
"What? Did I fuck out all your negative energy?" he chuckled, pressing me against him again with one of his arms. I roll my eyes at his comment but still I couldn't hide my smile. "I have something for you.." he said, now he's smiling like a little devil.
I look at him confused which he answers me with his fingers in front of my mouth. I look down at them and gasp as I see his cum on them. "Come on, open up baby.." I didn't knew why but again I did as he said and parted my lips. He pushed his fingers inside my mouth and grins. "Suck them."
I started sucking on his fingers and swirling my tongue around them, tasting his salty cum. His eyes rolled back a little and I saw him shuddering for a moment. "Damn, you wanna suck my cock maybe?"
I did let go of them and chuckled as I pressed myself pass his body to wrap my towel around my wet body. " Maybe next time.."
"Oh so you wanna do this more often, huh?"
Oh and how we both didn't knew at that moment how often actually.
_______
Who wants a part 2? It's here!
Let me know how you liked it!
My Harry Potter Masterlist.
xoxo Sarah <3
#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle smut#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo x you#slytherin boys#slytherin imagine#slytherin smut#harry potter imagine#harry potter masterlist#slytherin boys x reader#theodore nott oneshot#theodore nott smut#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott x y/n
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𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒐 !
- gojo satoru x reader
valentine's is around the corner and word has it that you're going on a date with geto...? no way! gojo is going to make sure that you're saying no! ever wonder how gojo finally gets you to become his? be prepared for a confession of a lifetime!
genre/warnings. crack, semi-failed love confession (it's gojo, what do you expect?), poor geto, and of course, fluff !!
notes. i genuinely love writing this :') loser gojo has always have a soft spot in my heart *sighs* i'd recommend listening to beautiful & because of you - beast (highlight) for this !!
a part of gojo's love entries and valentine's special !
Satoru doesn't really pay attention to holidays. To him, it's all the same—he can turn everyday into a holiday if he wanted to.
However, Valentine's Day is an exception. He knows it and is somewhat excited even. Why, you ask? Because this is the moment he has chosen. He's going to make you his on that very day.
He had everything planned out to perfection: skylit rooftop, bouquet of roses, eloquent speech (at least, he thought so). He was going to charm the pants out of you and it'd be a smooth-sailing event, he was sure of it!
At least until he heard that life-shattering gossip—
"I saw Geto-san asking her out for the 14th just now!"
"What?" he snapped his head in Haibara's direction, who was eagerly sharing with him and the others what he had allegedly heard, his eyes practically sparkling with excitement.
"Ehh, not bad," Shoko mused with a hint of amusement, casting a curious look his way. It was obvious she was enjoying this.
Nanami let out a thoughtful hum. "That's quite a surprise. I didn't think they'll go that fast."
"But how?!" Satoru suddenly exploded, grabbing Haibara by the collar. "How did that slimy bangs go from saying nothing to asking her out?!"
"O-oh Gojo-san! Don't squish me, please!"
And from then onwards, his focus was set: preventing you from falling into Suguru's grimy hands. Absolutely no way! He was so close already. He was on the cusp of winning your heart, and he knew it!
Now, you laughed at his jokes, you didn't ignore him as much, and you even asked him if he was okay after his recent mission! That was huge progress, even Satoru knew as much. And no, even if it was Suguru, he refused to hand you over to him.
On the 14th, you were going to be his... even if it cost him everything!
Gojo Satoru is annoying. You supposed you knew that already, but over these past few days, his ability to get on your nerves somehow had ascended to a wholly new level.
"I'm telling you, you should go with me! I'm going to take you somewhere amazing!" he practically demanded right up in your space, prompting you to let out a long-drawn sigh.
By all means, his attempts to woo you were all lame. He didn't know the first thing about being humble, and logically, you should have been more inclined to push him away.
‘Should’ being the operative word, because, somehow, over the past few weeks, you've started to see his antics as not just bearable but even endearing in a way. No one had ever pursued you with such relentless zeal before him, and it became increasingly difficult to overlook the way your heart fluttered in response to his (occasionally dubious) attempts to win you over.
So, right now, it really wasn't because you were playing hard to get. "Gojo, I've told you already. I can't on that day, I've already got plans," you sighed, exasperated.
He shot you a glance, his expression shifting into a brazenly raised eyebrow. "With Suguru?"
"How do you—"
"Tell him no," Satoru pressed, scowling. "Tell him I asked you first."
"In fact, he asked first—"
“Just say no!”
“No!”
"You're seriously going on a date with him?" he questioned, almost in disbelief. "And what, you're going to confess to him too?"
His tone didn't sit well with you, causing your irritation to rise. You frowned and retorted boldly, "And if I do? It's not like you can do anything about it anyway."
Wait, that actually hurts. Satoru was now irked too. Hadn't he shown enough for you to understand just how much of a big deal it was for him? Didn't you know he actually likes you so much that it made him toss and turn on some nights?
(No, you didn't really know. He just made himself look stupid most of the time. You were not that impressed.)
"As a matter of fact, I can," he began, expression turning into a slight sneer. "I can and I will if you still insist on going with him."
"Wha?"
"I'm going to crash your party so hard, you'll wish you hadn't gone behind my back. The audacity he has, trying to steal my girl!"
"You sound like a creep," you couldn't help blurting out, wide-eyed. "And I'm not your girl—"
"You—are quite heartless." His gaze on you behind that glasses hardened, and you were suddenly taken aback by how upset he looked. "I'm giving you my all—I think about you all day and night I think it's actually making me crazy!"
You stared at him, genuinely dumbfounded this time, realizing that somehow or another now, he was pouring his emotions out.
"Nothing I say will make sense to you, but whatever—" he exhaled sharply in frustration. "It's always you—in my mind. Compared to anyone else now, you're the prettiest. And if you were to ask me to pull a Blue on Ichiji right now, I'd probably do it! You see now—what you have done to me?"
"Ichiji? Gojo—!"
"You might think I did all of this for your attention, and yes, you’re right! That's how much you've messed with my head!"
. . .
Oh, now he had really gone and done it, hadn't he? He had laid it all bare, every last bit of it—the chaotic heap stacking up as his botched confession. And there were no roses, no rooftop, and none of the grandeur he had envisioned. This was so not how he wanted it to go at all.
Satoru grimaced, suddenly regretting this turn of events. He had seen it coming already—you calling him a total weirdo and then leaving him in the dust. Just the thought was enough to make his heart squeeze. Wanting to escape before it became a reality, he abruptly turned on his heel and walked away from you.
He barely made it a few steps away before he felt a firm tug on his arm.
"Wait! Gojo!"
You grabbed his arm tightly, forcing him to turn towards you. Satoru stubbornly refused to meet your gaze, his lips pressed into a massive pout. Yet, beyond that display of defiance, you could discern a hint of heartbreak splashed across his face, and it made your stomach churn.
Always trying to make you look at him. Always trying to get you to smile through his lame jokes. Making himself stupid on purpose. Frustrated when his feelings went unnoticed… All Gojo Satoru did thus far finally added up.
So it's true... he likes me this much...?
In that moment, warmth flooded through you. This idiot. Everyone said he was no good, but your heart couldn't help but leap, and a flurry of butterflies seemed to dance in your stomach.
In this instant, everything seemed to fall into place. Any doubt you might have melted away, leaving only a sense of certainty about your feelings. Everything just feels absolutely right.
"I'm not going on a date with Geto, you know."
"Huh?" Upon hearing that, he swiveled to face you, his gaze intensively searching your face for further explanation.
With a huff, you elaborated, "It's for my Grade One promotion mission. Geto-san asked to join me for it."
"But why? He doesn't need to—"
"He wants to tag along to absorb more cursed spirits, you see..."
"Oh, amassing new little friends, I see," Satoru quipped, face scrunching up distastefully.
His mood seems better now, you noted. You exhaled, your heart suddenly felt like it was pounding louder. "So, you've got the wrong idea. It sucks but my Valentine's day is going to be spent on a mission."
A beat passed by before he finally spoke again, still sheepish and avoiding eye contact. "I'm coming with you too, for that... mission or whatever."
You pressed your lips together, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your face. "And?"
"And... huh?"
"That's all? Nothing else you want to add?"
And suddenly his eyes sparkled back to life. Beyond those ridiculous round glasses, his bright, yet steadfast eyes met yours with such vibrant shine it made your chest thump so hard and face flush with matching intensity.
Silly, silly boy... liking me so much that he turns stupid.
"Actually, I've got plenty more to say!"
With an indignant snort, you released his arm. "Well, I'm waiting. Because what you just said before has to be the most underwhelming confession I've ever heard."
"Wha? Hey! That wasn't my confession! Just you wait, I'll do it over, and this time, I'll make you swoon so hard you'll forget how Suguru's face looks like!"
And on the night of February 14, he truly surpassed himself once again in making a terrible confession, and yet it still signified the day you truly became his—the beginning of your life together, which along the way, would be filled with more shenanigans, endless laughter and of course, love.
Epilogue
"Haibara, I really thought you're the most sensible here! I can't believe you!"
Suguru massaged his temples with utter grievance. So this was the cause of his headache and constant death stares Satoru gave him these past few days—the three people gathering in front of him!
"I've told you already, Nanami—Gojo is really going through with it," Shoko cackled with utter satisfaction. "Now, pay up."
"Ieiri-san... sigh— from now on, I'm not participating in your bets anymore."
Haibara, who went with Shoko's suggestion to incite this, sheepishly laughed. "Ehe, Geto-san, all that ends well is well though, no?"
"Satoru was really about to skin me alive! Ugh, and you almost ruined my date too..."
"Eh? Date?" All three sets of eyes suddenly fixed on him in utter astonishment. "Who?"
-> continue to 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 (with geto suguru—soon!)
#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠#gojo satoru x reader#jjk drabbles#satoru gojo x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk imagines#jjk x you#gojo x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#gojo x you#gojo#gojo fluff#gojo satoru imagines#gojo satoru fluff#satoru gojo fluff#jjk gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jutusu kaisen x reader#satoru x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo
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🚕Accidentally Kidnapping a Mafia Boss
*part of the reverse tropes series*
Pairing: MafiaBoss!Max Verstappen x UberDriver!Reader
Genre: Crack/Humor/Fluff?
Summary: Uber seemed like a brilliant plan to get money to buy a new car. However, a mistake has you picking up the wrong passenger. Pretty blue eyes turn dangerous when you notice the gun in his belt.
*this was actually so much fun to write! this is in no way dark whatsoever. it's super funny and the reader is pretty ditzy but it's all in good fun! hope you like it!*
TAG LIST CLOSED
You hummed to whatever tune was playing on your half-broken radio. Most of the lyrics came out as muffled voices, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Because like the radio, your car was almost dead.
Key word being almost.
You had bought the car at the beginning of your high school career and refused to give it up. But, your father had finally convinced you to buy a new one. However, buying a new car was expensive, hence why you were driving around town at 7 p.m. on a Friday night trying to find someone who needed an Uber.
Your family had mentioned how dangerous it was to drive for the “taxi” company, but no one else was hiring at this time.
“It’s an easy way to make bank,” you had told your very confused parents.
Your hand came up and smacked the top of the dash, causing the radio to spam for a moment before finally, clear voices played out. However, your eyebrows furrowed once you could actually listen to the song.
“This is not my playlist,” you muttered while trying to get your Bluetooth to come back on. Once your fingers reached the dials, your phone lit up with an Uber notification.
“Finally.”
You quickly put in the address and drove down the street. Your humming resumed, playlist reaching out through the speaker. You hadn’t even glanced at where the location was, or you would have realized that you were going in the wrong direction.
When you were supposed to be going further into the town, you were headed for the city. The only place your parents refused to let you drive.
It might have to do with the local mafia war that was going on. Something about track limits or whatnot. However, that was not going to stop you from getting paid that night.
You finally came to a stop at the corner of what you thought to be Fifth and Main, like your phone said to stop at. The actual corner was Fourth and Main, but you couldn’t tell because half of the word “fourth” was smudged with some type of brown substance.
Your shoulders raised in a shrug while your gaze landed back on your phone. At least you were supposed to be picking up a nice older looking lady. That’s what your Uber app said anyway. You leaned forward in the driver’s seat, making the entire car squeak. Before you knew it, your fingers had started to tap along to the song that was still playing.
The sound of the door opening and slamming shut caught your attention.
“Drive!” you heard from behind you.
Your entire body turned in the seat as you looked to the back row of your car.
That was not a nice looking old lady.
The man that now resided on the back road had a mean glare as his eyebrows cocked. Sea blue eyes met your own as the man leaned forward and pointed out the window.
“I said drive, let’s go!” the accented voice yelled.
If you had taken a moment to actually look at the man, you would have noticed his roughed up suit, along with the bright red splatters along his white dress shirt. And on his belt line, a gun seemed to be tucked.
But you hadn’t noticed.
“Yes sir!” you cheerfully said, putting the car into drive. A loud boom sounded outside the car, but your radio had decided to turn up full blast, masking the sound. Your car squeaked as it started to move away from the corner and farther along the road.
The man in the back seat seemed agitated, but slowly relaxed the farther away you got on the highway. He had leaned back against the window and rubbed his eyes. You wanted to keep glancing back at him, but you needed to drive. When you noticed that the Uber app had not updated with his next location, you gathered the courage to speak. However, he beat you to it.
“Is this your first time?”
You sheepishly grinned back at him. “Yes, sir. Sorry, is it that noticeable?”
A grunt escaped his lips.
“The damn Get Away Car sticker on the back is not very inconspicuous. You need to get rid of it.”
“Oh! So you don’t like Taylor Swift that much?”
The man glared at you through the rearview mirror, before he shut his eyes. His hand waved at you through the gap between the front seats.
“Just don’t miss the exit.”
“Sir, you’ll need to put in your location first.”
His eyes shot open. “I guess this is your first day. How did you ever get through training?”
You glanced back. “Training? It was all online?”
A huff only answered as he reached for what you hoped was a phone in his pocket.
“I’ll have to let Lando know that online training will not work.”
You let out a nervous giggle, noting that there was no “Lando” in the Uber training video. But, once again, the money promised kept you going down the highway. You kept glancing at your phone, hoping that the guy would just put his address in. Now you were getting annoyed.
“Sir, I really need the address or I’ll have to make you get out.”
A click near your ear made you freeze.
“Who do you think you are? Giving orders to de Leeuw.”
You had definitely picked up the wrong person. You wanted to start explaining yourself, but the gun near your head made the words die out in your throat. You could feel his breath on your ear as he spoke. This would be hot, if you weren’t scared to lose your life.
“Now, you’re going to tell me who you are and why you don’t know where the right exit is. Are you working for Hamilton? Vettel? Alonso?”
You were so caught up in not wanting to die that you missed the car in front of you slamming on your breaks. You were thankful for your fast reflexes as your foot pressed down on the left pedal, making your car lurch to a halt. A thump on the back of your seat had you reeling around to see what had happened to the blond man.
You were surprised to see him now sprawled on the back seats, eyes closed and gun now on the floor. Your hands were shaking as you were now able to take a random exit. When you got to a random parking lot, your head hit the steering wheel.
“I have de Leeuw in my back seat.”
Your breathing started to grow ragged.
“I have de Leeuw in my back seat!”
You were now panicking.
“I HAVE AN FUCKING UNCONSCIOUS MAFIA BOSS IN MY BACK SEAT!”
Charles’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched Max’s tracker come to a stop in a parking lot. The Dutchman was supposed to come back right away after a swift deal with Gasly on the other side of town. But, Charles’s heart had dropped when the car, that Max was supposedly in, turned at an exit too soon. He took off his headset and rolled his chair over a bit.
“Lando, who was picking Max up today after the deal? Was it Carlos?”
The curly-haired Briton spun in his seat to look at his fellow mafia worker.
“Uh, Carlos called in sick. I thought it was Oscar’s turn?”
Something felt weird in Charles’s stomach.
“No, Oscar is on that mission? Daniel was then after Oscar.”
Lando’s eyes widened with fear. “Daniel is out of the country.”
The Monegasque turned back to his computer screen. All vitals for Max were still good, but he had yet to leave the location. His finger pointed and pressed against the screen.
“Then . . . who has Max?”
Back in the parking lot, you had gotten out of the car and were currently rocking back and forth in the fetal position.
“This is not happening. Why did this happen to me? I only needed some money. Why did I get stuck with a mafia boss. I want to live. I need to get back home to my plant and cat.”
Last time you checked, de Leeuw was still out cold. You had taken the gun just in case he woke up in a panic and started to shoot at stuff. That would not end well for you. You grabbed your phone and pushed a button.
“Yes? Hi? Hello, I am calling about what to do if I picked up the wrong passenger. Uh-huh. Yes. I didn’t have his address. Well, no. He’s unconscious. I can’t call the police, he probably owns them. What? Ok. No? The hospital is under the law as well? Yep. I can’t just take him back! No, wait. Don’t hang up. Uhg.”
So much for customer service.
You stuffed your phone back into your pocket. Your feet took you over to your car, and you opened the back seat. The blond man was still looked like he was asleep. Your face got closer to his.
Hm. Up close he was quite handsome. The freckle on his lip really added bonus points. You were so engrossed with the small dot that you missed the twitch of his eyes under his eyelids. When you looked back up, your eyes met blue, which made you shriek and fall back on your butt.
Max was a bit out of it when he was trying to wake up. What he wasn’t expecting was a face to be so close to his when his eyes finally opened. He would laugh if he had the strength as he watched you fall onto the concrete. His hand immediately went to his belt, but his heart dropped when he didn’t feel his gun.
“Looking for this?” you asked, gun outstretched at the man in your back seat. Max’s eyes widened at the gun pointed to his head. It took all of his strength to put his hands up.
“You don’t want to do this,” is the first calm thing that the man said to you. You, however, kept the gun pointed directly at him.
“You’re right, I don’t. But I can’t have you freak out on me and shoot my face. Who would take care of my cat back home? My cousin Lan could, but he kills everything.”
Max registered the slight hitch in your voice. While his hands were still up, he took a moment to look around the parking lot. In the depths of his mind, he was hoping that Lando or at least Charles were on their way to come get him. Yet, his heart rate rose as he saw a few familiar things surrounding him.
He turned back to you. “Ok, you need to listen to me. We are in Rosberg territory right now. And he’s not going to like us on his property. So, you need to give me the gun and get back into the car.”
Your eyes flickered around, and caught some movement to the left and then to the right. You slowly inched the gun down as you walked closer. When you were right in front of the Dutchman, you quickly handed him the gun as you rounded the car to the drivers seat.
Max quickly reloaded the unloaded gun with a smirk on his face. You couldn’t have shot him if you tried. It took a bit for him to do it, but when the magazine fit back in the gun, he was wondering why you hadn’t taken off yet.
“We have to go, now,” he said sternly.
You turned around. “But I need to find a good get-away-song.”
Max could count the pout on your lips as adorable, if it weren’t for the fact that Rosberg’s men were quickly making their way to the car.
“You’re going to have to pick a good funeral song if you don’t hit the gas pedal.”
“Aha!”
The music blared out of the broken speaker as you finally put the car into drive. You heard metal hit metal and prayed that you still could trade your car out for another (even with a few bullet holes).
Max had pressed himself up against the back seat, gun cocked and ready.
“You better not shoot out my back window. I have to trade this car for a new one.”
Max muttered, “You won’t trade anything if you’re dead.”
“I heard that!”
The mafia boss ignored you as he kept watch. When a few cars started to gain, that’s when he leaned back and aimed the gun, firing shots through your back windshield, shattering the glass.
“Do you listen to anyone? Or is my voice just static in your brain?” you asked as you swerved onto the highway. When Max didn’t answer, you huffed. You steadily drove your car down the big roads as Max tried his best to keep the cars at bay.
“How far am I driving?”
Max grunted as he ducked from a bullet. “Just until exit 7. That’s my track.”
You wanted to hit your head on the steering wheel once again. “You’re telling me that if I just kept driving, I wouldn’t be in this situation?”
When he didn’t answer, you swerved a bit to knock him off balance. Your chuckles hit Max’s ear, pissing him off even more.
“And to think, I was going to replace this utter junk if you made it out alive.”
“We’re not done yet mister.”
There was still a bit of road to go, and you were hoping that Max would try to shoot out one of their tyres, instead of trying to shoot at their drivers. He was about reload when he heard a clicking sound. Max really wanted to through himself out the door.
“Is your blinker seriously on right now?”
Your fully turned around to glare.
“Yes.”
You jerked the wheel as you got onto exit 7, making the cars behind slowly back away and continue on the highway. You wiggled in your seat as you did a little celebration. When some familiar houses came into sight, you gasped.
“My cousin lives around here!”
Max was out of breath as he was flabbergasted by your upbeat spirit. “Cousin?”
“Yeah! He has this like high tech job and stuff. I come over to swim in the summer.”
He had no words as you pulled up to a familiar house. You scrambled out the door and fell face flat on the asphalt.
“Sweet mother, thank you, thank you.”
You could kiss the ground, but that would be super unsanitary. When the garage creaked, you quickly got up and scrambled behind Max, who raised his gun out of instinct. However, he wanted to laugh when he saw his two best friends in full oversized gear.
The two friends froze at the sight of their boss and, well, Lando’s cousin.
“Y/n?” the Briton questioned, pulling the visor on the oversized helmet up.
Your sprung in your place.
“Lando!”
“Max?”
“Charles?”
Lando squinted at you.
“Y/n?”
A nervous giggle escaped your lips.
“Lando?”
The curly-haired man rushed at you, making you dodge around Max. Which, that resulted in Lando chasing you around the yard.
“You kidnapped my friend?”
“Why are you friends with de Leeuw and apparently Il Predestinato? I’m telling Aunt Cisca!”
“Not if I tell your mum that you Ubered in the city!”
Max and Charles watched as the two of you ran after each other, hurling insults and threats. The two jumped when they heard a loud creak behind them and then a crash. When they looked, your car was down to the ground, wheels askew.
“My car! De Leeuw, you’re paying for that!”
uber_y/n has posted
uber_y/n new baby from my new baby 🖤
liked by bestie, land0, max_v, and 204 others
bestie um excuse me ma'am 🤨 what happened to bessie? 😭
uber_y/n someone (not saying any names [max] ) SHATTERED HER BACK WINDOW
max_v I hope you like bessie 2.0 schatje
uber_y/n I dooooooo(not)
max_v woman 🙄
land0 you just had to go for my cousin 😐😑😐
uber_y/n he was very charismatic, unlike you noRIZZ 🫵💀
sharl_lec pls, for the love of everything good in this world, quit uber
uber_y/n NOPE on my way to pick up someone named...lewis?
max_v oh no
TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis
#reverse trope#kidnapped a mafia boss#uber driver reader#f1 x driver!reader#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#formula 1 x you#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen#Max Verstappen fluff#crack fic#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x female reader#f1 x you#lando norris#Charles leclerc#terrible dutch translation
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Thank you for all of the stories recently! Can you do one where Lando gets tired of you calling him “Little Lando Norris” and decides to show you how big he really is?
L.L.N II Lando Norris ⒽⓌ
SUMMARY: Lando doesn't mind you making fun and playing games just as long as you're aware of the truth...and he'll be more than happy to remind you.
WARNINGS: **18+**
A/N: Got some good news so felt inspired to write again ;) Sorry for the delay.
"Aww poor little Lando." You jokingly patted him on the back. "Better luck next time buddy." you laughed as you walked away leaving him fuming.
Once again you'd beat Lando for 3rd place by merely a few seconds, an ongoing rivalry between you both that had everyone at the edge of their seats.
Ever since karting you and Lando had this heated rivalry, always making the other's life impossible and being each other's biggest competition so it was no surprise when it continued onto Formula 1.
To the outside world, it was incredibly entertaining for everyone to see the rivalry between the two of you. The rude remarks and snarky comments you threw at each other during interviews, the hate between you two only brewing stronger with each race.
But little did people know the way you were able to keep the hate at bay and keep yourselves in check. It had all started as a stupid drunk mistake when you found yourselves fucking in a club bathroom. The memory was hazy but you both remembered enough to know that deep down you liked it.
The next time it was a simple rash decision, you didn't think about it when you found yourself waking up in Lando Norris's room naked his arm across your waist, quickly throwing it off before running back to your room.
It was good. The sex was good, and that was the only reason you kept coming back. That's what you both told each other.
But it had become a frequent occurrence now, almost 5 months of quick and meaningless fucks where you could let out the pent-up tension and anger you had for each other.
But this still didn't take away from the fact that you still loved to piss each other off on track. Secretly you'd grown to love doing it more because you felt the direct consequence of it later.
"Lando, how do you feel about yet another close battle today with your biggest rival on track?" The interviewer asked him.
"Yeah, she just got lucky getting the better line around the next corners, but she knows I'm not one to back down, she knows what's coming for her," Lando smirked loving the double meaning behind his words.
He could see you a few feet from him giving your own interview. He just about heard you when once again you'd referred to him as Little Lando Norris, something you'd taken to recently which just irked him a little more than usual.
He watched you carefully, keeping his eyes on you like a hawke which to everyone else looked like pure hatred but truly it was simply because Lando could see the way Pierre got a little too friendly with you for his liking.
Lando would never admit it to you but he truly couldn't control the jealousy that erupted in his stomach whenever he saw you get too friendly with anyone. Whatever you had might have been meaningless but as far as he was concerned you were still his for now.
"Alright thanks, Lando enjoy your break." Lawrence finalized the interview with Lando outside the McLaren hospitality just as he could see you walking out of the press conference room with Pierre quickly by your side.
He didn't hesitate as he stood up with a quick step towards you. His blood boiling when he heard you laugh at something Pierre said.
"I need to talk to you." Lando stood in front of you making you stop abruptly and bump into his chest.
"Oh look hey speaking of the devil." You smirked.
"Little Lando Norris." Pierre joked but for some reason, Lando didn't find it the least bit amusing coming from him.
"Okay well can't talk now so bye." You were about to move past him but Lando grabbed your arm.
"Wasn't asking." Lando was ready to pull you away with him but was stopped by Pierre who grabbed your other hand.
"I actually just asked her for a drink so-" Pierre was quick to tell Lando.
"So she can't right now." Lando didn't let him finish or you protest before whisking you away.
You were completely taken aback as Lando shamelessly dragged you away from Pierre not caring the way there were several eyes on you as he took you towards the McLaren building.
Your heart pounded in your chest rendering you speechless as he walked you all the way into the building past several staff members before reaching his room where he was quick to shut you both inside.
"Lando what the-" you finally regained your voice as the door closed behind you.
"Shut up." Lando pressed his lip to yours as he pressed you to the wall. You had to push through the rush that invaded your body trying not to give in so easily.
"Lando, what has gotten into you?" You asked breathlessly as Lando began kissing down your neck unbuttoning your jeans and dragging them down
"So it's just Lando now?" was all he said.
"What are you- ah fuck." before you could reply again you cut yourself off when Lando began ruthlessly attacking your clit.
Lando basked in the pleasure he could produce on you loving the way you became putty in his hands behind closed doors despite the way you loved to tease him and take control outside.
Lando's pants suddenly felt painfully tight as he continued his attack on you taking the liberty he unbuckled his pants all while still tasting you before pulling his dick out into his hands to give it a few pumps.
Lando didn't stop, not until you had your first orgasm before finally getting up. "Why don't you return the favor baby?" Lando asked despite knowing he didn't have to since you were on your knees before he could even finish asking.
You prepared yourself knowing the ache you would feel from sucking him off having to open wide to take him into your mouth. Lando's eyes showed the smugness in them at watching the way you always struggled initially to take him never able to take him all down until you'd sucked him off for a while.
Lando groaned as you began moving your head up and down, your hands taking care of what you couldn't fit in your mouth for now.
"Nothing so little about that is there?" Lando asked the pride clear in his voice.
Only now did you understand what this was all about but you didn't care to complain since he'd gotten you all worked up.
"Why don't you make it extremely clear for me." You decided to try to have your own way.
"Gadly baby." Lando pulled you up before picking you up and using the wall to support you in his arms before using one of his hands to line himself up against your whole.
"Please-" You pleaded, Lando loved the way you begged every time he got near you like these.
"you ready?" he asked despite feeling your wetness already drip onto him.
"Yes, please fuck me." You sighed as you grabbed Lando's face to kiss him.
Lando used this distraction to push himself all the way inside you swallowing your yelp. "Shit baby you're so wet," Lando whispered knowing he had to keep semi-quiet because of the remaining staff in the building right now. Although half of him hoped everyone could hear what you were doing and the way he was making you feel right now...make it crystal clear to everyone.
"Ah, fuck Lando go faster." You begged him as Lando pushed in and out of you fully and completely at a brutally slow pace.
"Who's making you feel like this baby?" Lando asked not answering to your pleas just yet.
"You Lan...You are." You could almost cry at the torturous pace he'd set.
"not even fucking Pierre can make you feel like this can he?" His words were laced with disgust and anger which made your stomach flutter.
"No...no just you." You replied kissing Lando once again.
This was enough for Lando as he picked up his pace feeling the way you clenched around him and the way you struggled to keep quiet.
"Fu...so good...shit" You moaned in a whisper as Lando kept thrusting faster and faster into you against the wall.
Lando could cum at the sight of you, watching the way your tits would bounce with each thrust, the way your eyes rolled back, and hearing your uneven breaths as you tried to keep quiet while your orgasm quickly approached, feeling the way you held onto him as if your own skin was begging for more. This was it. This was glory to Lando.
#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1#f1smut#smut#f1 one shot#f1 smut#f1fic#formula 1#changetyre#lando norris#lando norris smut#lando norris x reader#ln4
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𝘚𝘛𝘈𝘠𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘙 -`♡´- - c.s & t.y x reader
inspired by THIS
pairing: chris x tara x reader.
summary: two of your bestfriends stay over after a party. your friend tara's flirting quickly escalates the night into something much less innocent than a little sleepover.
warnings: smut, threesome, face sitting, dom!chris, switch!tara, sub!reader, dirty talk, p in v, oral (f & m recieving), praise, overstimulation, fingering, no protection (it's fiction. don't be dumb.), probably forgot some sorry!
authors note: omg y'all been on my ass to finish writing thiss <3 i did write and edit this while sleepy so (i really hope not) BUT if there's mistakes or lack of detail i'm really sorry!
"pink" = reader speaking "purple" = tara speaking "orange" = chris speaking
the time on your phone read 3:04am.
with a sigh you searched your surroundings impatiently. you'd been stood outside on the lawn of this stupid giant house for 4 minutes too long. the dampness on you from light raindroplets coming down just made the experience all the more unpleasent.
the mansion behind you was a mututal friends. inside, music blared so loud that it was seeping out through the windows. despite the absaloutely absurd hour of the night it was still bustling with people inside. sometimes in LA it felt like the parties just never died out. to be fair though, the number had signifincantly decreased from the start of the night when there must have been at least 100 people on the property.
"hey, sorry! i got caught up in yappin while trying to say goodbye to people" tara's familiar voice instantly made your tense shoulders drop. you turned to face her with a smile "it's alright. seen chris around yet?" your eyes scanned behind her to see if he was coming even though you didn't expect him to be. and he wasn't. "maybe we should text him?" tara suggested as she also looked behind her, as if it would make him appear faster. you pulled out your phone to send him a message.
3:07. they were both told to meet out here at 3:00. 7 minutes still wasn't terribly late.
tara's voice took you from your screen "we've been out here freezing, loser" you stop typing your text message to look up at whoever she was talking too. you were met with the sight of chris holding his jacket over his head to block from the rain falling down on him. "my bad, i got lost in the house.." he admitted as he got right up to the two of you and held his jacket out a little further to invite you both beneath it's shelter. "but i already called the uber so it should be here soon." he said re-assuringly. you both stepped beneath the coverage of his jacket. it didn't completely block the rain but it was something.
tara was staying over tonight because the two of you almost always stay at one anothers after parties. chris however, was coming along because neither matt or nick wanted to come to the party so you had taken him here, as well as offered to take him home the next day. he could have just ubered home tonight but, you and tara insisted that he come over to hang out after. what was he gonna do? say no to a fun innocent little sleepover with his friends??
the three of you walked in unison in order to keep your place under the shelter of chris' jacket. the whole way off the property the music faded and tara's heels clicking mixed with the rain's intensity picking up became all that was heard.
the close proximity of the three of you should have been uncomfortable but you had absaloutely no issue being this close to tara and chris- probably because they were both very outgoing and touchy people so they were comfortable as well, giggling the whole way down the lawn about who knows what. the smell of rain and chris' dior cologne filled your senses up the whole walk until finally, you all made it to the sidewalk and the uber was right there across the street.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
the ride home, you had all sat in the back together. you sat in the middle, head on chris's shoulder and one leg swung over tara's lap as you and tara yapped away almost the entire time. this wasn't weird because tara, you and chris were all naturally touchy people. and the alcohol hadn't completely left yours or taras systems quite yet.
opening your front door now, you instantly removed the heels that had been abusing your feet for hours. "i'm gonna get comfy clothes, you two can make yourselves comfortable" you told your friends as you locked your door securely. "could i borrow a shirt or something?" tara questioned with a sweet pleading smile as she slid off her heels and coat. "of course! come on" you enthused, leading her toward your laundry room since you hadn't had time to put any of your clothes away earlier before the party.
chris watched as you lead tara away. he had already made himself at home on your couch. he had been here before so it didn't take him long to figure out the tv remote either.
tara eventually picked out a t-shirt of yours to wear. you had chosen a matching tank and shorts pj set. as you were sliding your shorts on under your dress, you caught sight of tara sliding her dress down her shoulders. slowly her tits peaked over her dress, little by little till they were completely exposed.
you were in awe of how perfect they sat. how pretty. you were so mesmerized that you didn't even realize she had completely removed her dress and caught your hungry gaze. a typical tara giggle escaped her, snapping you out of your haze.
your eyes shot up to hers and you look petrified. "i'm so sorr-" "no no, it's okay" you could tell by the smile on her face that she was genuine.
she slid your shirt over her head, covering her body back up again. "you want help unzipping your dress?" she asked. you were still so stuck on what had just happened that the question caught you off gaurd. why not though? god knows it'd be a nightmare to unzip it yourself. so, you nodded with an embarassed "sure".
tara made her way behind you, she stepped just a little closer than necessary and her painted fingernails found your zipper to slide it down. you could feel her breath on your neck, making your spine shiver. she slowly slid the straps of your dress down your shoulders, letting your dress fall down near your stomach.
she came right behind you, head on your shoulder. she looked down at your chest VERY obviously observing you with her gaze. "gorgeous" she complimented, her mischevious smile contradicting her sweet and casual tone. she gave a quick kiss to your shoulder before abruptly leaving the room to go find chris like it was nothing.
you stood completely dumbfounded. you and tara were extremely close but that was weird, right? after a couple minutes of collecting your thoughts, you chalked it up to her flirty personality just being fed a little too much liquid courage tonight.
after getting your clothes on you made your way to the living room where chris and tara were talking away. they were sitting surprisingly close but, spacial awarness wasn't always tara's specialty. chris didn't seem to mind.
"heyy me and chris are deciding what we want to eat, what do you want?" she questioned excitedly with uber eats already open on her phone.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
you all had made your decisions on food as well as a movie and you instructed that everyone watched it in your room to be more comfy so here the three of you were now..
chris laid with his back against your headboard while you and tara sat next to him on either side. chris and tara were talking over the movie that was nearly over now. waterbottles and empty fast food containers filled the space on your side table. you and tara had completely sobered up about an hour ago after having had some food.
"right? like wear what you want i guess but like WOW i just.." you had no clue what chris was talking about and you didn't care, as your eyes fixated on the tv screen you drowned out your two friends voices. reaching into your bedside tables drawer, you removed a vanilla chapstick sorry spacecamp to fix the dryness that earliers alcohol had cursed you with.
the scent of it was super strong. chris had subconciously switched his attention from what he was saying to your lips as the scent you were applying filled his nose and senses. he watched as you drug it across your perfect, round and now smooth, lips. he realized he was staring and quickly looked away. now that his attention had been drawn to you, he realized that you hadn't really talked to him or tara much for the past hour.
"what is that? cake or some shit?" he said, more so as a reason to include you in conversation than out of actual curiousity. you went to put the cap back on the vanilla lipbalm "can i try?" tara asked before you could even answer chris. you went to hand her the tube but she stopped you by grabbing your wrist gently "why waste it when we could share?" she asked. you were confused for a second until a playful glint in her eyes told you what she meant.
so earlier she was flirting? you thought to yourself. your expression mirrored hers with a smirk as you casually responded "of course you can try it". she begins to move forward so you do too. the both of you are leaning over chris when your lips connect in a gentle peck. chris has no idea how to react. his lips are parted, eyes glossy with a growing desire as he watches his two friends infront of him.
your lips hover one anothers for a moment but nobodies pulling away so you connect mouths again. this time there's a passion, lust, to the kiss. your the first to add tongue and tara's more than welcoming about it, her tongue fighting back against yours for dominance. you lean into the kiss more and with that same surge of confidence, you make a split second decision to "accidentally" steady yourself by pressing your hand ontop of the blanket..
right over where chris' dick is located.
an unexpectful grunt slips his lips. you pull back from tara just a little to gage chris's reaction. he doesn't seem to mind but for your own good-concious you need to make sure. "this okay?" you ask as your palm gently starts rubbing onto the tent in the blanket. he nods confirmingly, a quiet "yeah" before his lips eagerly meet yours. tara backs up just slightly so she can adjust herself to place a kiss below chris's jaw. his hand rests onto her knee and he rubs his thumb lightly as a show of approval.
with that, she opens her mouth and begins lightly nipping at his neck. tara takes his hand that's on her knee and grabs it to guide it toward you, silently telling him to give you the attention instead right now. chris smirks into the kiss but you don't know why until his hand goes to toy the waist band of your shorts, making you flinch a little at the cold touch of his fingertips.
tara's lips leave chris's neck. she shuffling around the bed so you try to pull away to see what she's doing. chris's hand comes to the back of your head, forcing you back onto his lips. that doesn't last long though because next thing you know, tara's grabbing your shoulders to pull you to lay down on your back, head toward the end of the bed. your legs naturally go on either side of chris. he's still seated with his back against the headboard.
"you wanna make me feel good babe?" the tone of tara's voice makes your stomach flutter. you respond by nodding eagerly. tara giggles mischeviously in response as she stands to remove her black lace panties. chris eyes catch onto her. both of you watch as she bends over to slide them off, momentarily revealing her glistening pussy.
his attentions pulls away when you subconciously buck your hips up for attention. chris' long fingers slide into the waistband of your shorts to slide them off your legs. you allow him, lifting your hips to help. now you lift your head to watch what chris is up to. you feel tara's weight consume the bed next to your head but keep your eyes trained on the man between your legs. chris tosses your shorts aside before his hands find your thighs. painstakingly slow, his palms run up and down them, always close but never quite touching your aching cunt.
you begin to get impatient "chris. pl-" you're cut off by tara lightly grabbing your jaw and forcing your head back down against the bed. "shh. let him take his time honey" as she speaks she raises herself over your face, thighs now on either sides of your head. you open your mouth to argue but instead you're silenced by tara's folds pressing onto your lips.
well, you for sure weren't gonna argue with that. you forget about chris for now, wanting tara's taste in your mouth. your tongue darts out to experimentaly flick at her clit once before you completely dive in to suck on her needy bud.
tara whines from the lack of build up. she looks down at you admirably as your tongue works her "so good honey." she praises you. it hasn't even been a minute and your pussy drunk, you wanna make her keep telling you how good your doing, wanna pull more pretty noises. you're so completely consumed with her that you hadn't even noticed chris pulled your panties to the side until his fingers unexpectedly ran through your folds.
"so fucking soaked." chris states, admiring your soaked cunt. "yeah? you like being buried in me that much?" tara teases, staring down at you. to answer her, your tongue slips into her hole, nose stimulating her clit now. "orr she just wants to be touched, hm?" chris says with slight competitivness, his pointer finger just barely grazes over your clit. you buck your hips toward him for more but he uses his free arm to hold your waist to the bed.
tara scoffs, rolling her eyes even though neither of you can see it. "yeah sure" she mutters quietly in response to chris. he catches it though, "i'd watch your tone" chris warns her. before tara can respond, he thrusts his middle and ring fingers into you, elicting a moan. the vibrations of your moan travel straight into taras cunt, making her whine loudly.
chris watches with satisfaction at having affected both of you at the same time. although his cock is throbbing, he's more than happy to watch the sight infront of him and continue to toy and play with you. or both of you. his fingers are as deep as they go when he curls them upwards. you cry out, grabbing tara's hand with one of yours and her thigh with your other.
your tongue is still fucking her closer and closer to the edge. everytime chris forces out all your pretty little noises, they go straight into tara's cunt again and again.
her thighs begin suffocating the sides of your head. you don't mind at all. she rocks her cunt right into your face, whines spilling out of her. "i'm close" she voices, her thighs beginning to shake. "not yet, get off of her" chris demands. tara turns her head as far as it goes to look back at chris. "excuse me?" she questions him . chris's fingers pull out of you. you try to complain but it's muffled. they continue the conversation without you. "you're not cumming yet." he tells her. tara looks... offended? baffeled? she opens her mouth to complain but chris rolls his eyes and raises to his knee's so he can grab taras hips, lifting her off you.
you immedietly sit up, confused. tara's juices coat your chin and chris motions for you to come to him. "what. the. fuck?" you finally complain, looking between the two of them. "what she said" tara chimes in. chris turns tara to face him and lays back. he looks at tara then nods toward his lap. the sour look leaves her face and she smirks knowingly as she straddles his hips, already working at his belt.
chris's attention switches to you. "you wanna feel good again? hm?" he asks you with a slightly cocky smile. you nod. "cm'ere" he lures you over to sit on his face. while tara unbuttons and removes chris' pants.. you nervously place your thighs on either side of your friends face.
his middle and ring fingers return back to your aching hole to tease you again. he can sense your nervousness to lower yourself onto his mouth. "cm'on let me taste you" chris says, telling not asking as he looks up at you. you're looking anywhere but him. he groans frustratedly and decides to take matters into his own hands. he uses his free arm to wrap it around your thigh and pull you right down to his tongue. he wastes no time flicking the tip of his tongue up and down your clit rapidly. as if that wasn't enough, his fingers fill you right back up.
you almost jump at the unsuspected and sudden pleasure.
you push your cunt further onto his mouth for more. you look down to see his blue lustful gaze staring right back up at you while he smirks into your sopping cunt. you clench around his fingers just at the sight.
meanwhile, tara's teasingly pulling his boxers toward his thighs.
tara wants nothing more than to ride him like he had implied however, tara figured someone might as well return the favour that he's giving to you right now. she leans down and her hand wraps around his base at the same time her lips enclose his tip.
a whiny moan slips chris lips that makes tara amusedly giggle around his cock, causing him to let another noise slip. both of these go right to your clit. you grip chris' hair for support and in return he curls his fingers right up into your g-spot.
you throw your head back and begin attempting to rock your hips into chris' face. the arm that's around your thigh holds you still though and he begins curling his fingers the same way over and over, again and again. you whine and moan as your body tries again and again to rock against his grip on you. chris lips wrap around your clit now, nipping and sucking. your stomach twists with pleasure, you know what's coming if he keeps this up.
tara's mouth slides down his length, taking him in almost completetely. chris's teeth bite down on your clit in reaction. it's not hard enough to truly hurt but enough to shock you and almost tip you right over the edge.
chris releases your clit with a pop. his voice is shakier than he anticipated. "y-you wanna cum baby?" your friend asks as he looks up at you, your juices on his face with pussy drunk eyes. "mm- mhm" is all you manage. he gently slaps your thigh, making you whine. "lemme hear you say it" his fingers continue to curl into you.
"i w-wanna cum chris mm please" you beg him desperately as you clench around his fingers. there's a few seconds of silence that makes tears fill the corner of your eyes. "good girl. g-go ahead" he struggled to speak as the pleasure tara's tongue gave him was almost too much.
the 'good girl' was more than enough for you. you practically fold over, you would have if your headboard wasn't there to grab onto. your legs shake and your walls squeeze his fingers, your orgasm is already coming over you but then on top of it chris adds his mouth back to the mix, latching it back to your clit. "chris!" his name comes out high pitched. stars cloud your vision as you coat his fingers completely.
tara's mouth release's chris' cock. the bed shifts for a couple seconds and before he can process it, the warm walls of her cunt envelope him, sinking all the way to his pubic bone. chris moans into you again but this time it feels like too much. you tried to lift your hips off of him but he only pulls your pretty pussy right back to him. his fingers leave you but his tongue flattens against your hole, licking a long stripe from there till your clit.
"fuck chris!""fuck!" you and tara both whine out. your pleasure's from the overstimulation, hers from the way his cock hits all the right spots when she rocks on it. his dick twitching inside of her at the sound of both your pretty cries. when tara begins a steady and fast pace, chris couldn't help but subconciously try and fuck up into her. she leans back, her hands on his thighs to steady herself as her rythym became faster. both chris and tara let out noises. hers whiny and desperate, his lower and less often.
you couldn't hear either of them over the ringing in your ears from every muscle in your body shaking. because of your last orgasm, you were still very sensitive. this time all it took was chris's mouth sucking on your clit for and you were almost there again.
tara was finding friction for her clit from rocking it into chris' pelvis everytime her hips moved. her mouth was slack and she was hardly even moaning anymore. heavy breaths coming as her chest heaved. "fuck- i'm so close" tara mutters mostly to herself. you took a hand off the headboard to reach behind you, your hand reaching out behind you and she takes the hint, grabbing it. you both squeezed one anothers hands for support.
you guys weren't the only one's close. chris's dick was twitching inside your bestfriend and his hips start to stutter.
tara pushes her hips down harder onto her friend and the feeling was enough for the coil in her stomach to release. she cried out breathlessly and at the same time, your thighs squeeze chris's head as you dig your nails into tara's hand. your mind goes completely blank.
you remove yourself from chris's face, completely overstimulated. tara leaves his cock at the same time, red and leaking precum. chris looked at tara confused.. until she looks at you, then back to him.
you didn't notice this, you were sat next to chris, chest heaving while you catch your breath. "think you can take one more, babe?" tara speaks up but her voice is strained and raspy from all the gorgeous noises she had emitted just moments ago.
you looked at chris who was already looking at you. he looked pretty, sweat causing a few of his brown strands to cling to his forehead. despite looking a little fucked out, he still had an eagerness to him probably because he hadn't cum yet.
he got up into a seated position and reached out, hand going into your hair to pull you into him. his lips collided with yours feverishly whilst tara's fingertips teasingly graze his tip. he instantly swatted her hand away. she let him because they both knew he had other plans.
chris turned you around, positioning you on your knee's infront of him. your back pressed against his chest.
he used his knee's to seperate yours, shuffling them apart. tara came infront of you, on her knee's as well. she attatched her lips with yours while chris was positioning himself. your arm came around the back of her neck and the other reached behind you to go to the back of chris's neck as well.
chris brushes his tip against your clit. you instantly jerked your hips away from his from the overstimulating feeling. he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you back. you whine but he shushes you. "jus one more, yeah?" he assured right before his cock entered you, filling you up completely.
your lips left tara's to let out what was practically a scream. "shh honey" enphasizing her words, tara's hand clasps over your mouth. she lowered her head level to your tits before taking a nipple into her mouth. this makes you whine again, then again when chris's tip abuses your cervix without warning.
you're already so sensitive from his tongue and fingers just moments ago, his cock feels like too much but so good at the same time. "so good for us" chris praises before slamming into you again, making you scream into tara's hand. her other hand lands a light slap to your sensitive clit, making your hips jerk. you don't go far against chris' firm hold on you. "mm- g- cmm" even with taras hand shutting you up, they both know what you're saying.
chris mouth is now right next to your ear "not yet. you're gonna cum with me" he mutters to you. you shake your head, not thinking you're gonna last. "either you can fuckin wait for me or- fuck- or i'll make you take a fourth o-one" he threatens you. you shake your head in momentary panic. there's no way you're gonna cum for a fourth after this but if he makes you wait much longer to cum you aren't gonna have a choice but to finish before he allows you to.
tara continues to swirl her tongue around your nipple fiercly and as if you weren't already fucked dumb, her middle finger makes sudden contact with your clit, rubbing fast circles.
now you know that they're both just trying to fucking ruin you.
now you speak nonsense into her hand, making her smirk with amusement. "what's wrong honey, too much?" tara asks you with a faux-sympathetic pout. you aggresively nod your head. responding for tara, chris pulls you impossibly tighter against him, hips slamming harder into you. you yell into her hand and both of them smirk. "want us to stop?" she says teasingly, already knowing the answer but wanting to make sure. you instantly shake your head no.
her fingers still toy your clit and chris's pace slowly starts to falter. you can feel his breath on your neck becoming un-even. tara circles your sensitive bundle of nerves faster and you're sure your gonna be cumming before you're allowed.
luckily for you, the way chris holds your body tighter and his forehead drops to your shoulder says otherwise. "you gonna cum with me?" his voice is all low fucked out and it makes your walls squeeze him harder than ever. you nod, unable to speak for more than one reason.
"go on then" he encourages along with a harsh slam of his hips. the second "go" left his lips your vision went white.
the next thing you were aware of was about 20 seconds after when his seed was spilling up into you to coat your walls. his forehead rested on your shoulder while he praised you on how good you were for him. "did so well" he said before gently kissing your shoulder while tara's fingers left your clit at the same time chris pulled out of you.
chris reached down next to your bed to retrieve everyones clothing for them. you had two bathrooms so you and tara headed off to one for a shower. chris to the other bathroom for the same reason.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
you all returned to your room after, clean and in new clean clothes. (lucky for chris, nick hangs out here often and you love to steal his shit to wear for comfort.)
chris had entered just as you finished making your bed with fresh sheets. "better not have been fucking in there without me" chris joked as he made himself comfortable laying on your bed. you and tara both simultaniously rolled your eyes at him, scoffing. you both joined him on the bed to lie down.
you were in the middle of them. chris spooned you and you spooned tara, cuddling one another comfortbly way past awkwardness at this point. chris rubbed a relaxing hand up and down your side and you played with your other friends hair relaxingly. you should know better though, comfortable silence doesn't exist with chris around...
"guess what?"
you audibly sighed. "what?" tara and you groaned knowingly in unison.
there's a little grin on his face that neither of you can see, but nonetheless you both sense the ridiculousness.
"i saw both your boobies" he says in a childish sing-song tone.
"oh my god" "are you fucking kidding me?"
i really hope y'all enjoyed. ᥫ᭡
tags: @daddyslilchickenfingers @fratbrochrisgf @mattsrod @sturncakez @sturniololovesss @sturniccc
#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#tara yummy smut#sturnsdoll#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo triplets fanfic#tara yummy#tara yummy fanfic#tara yummy x reader#sturniolo smut
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( 📁 ) THEM ACTING OVERLY JEALOUS
synopsis: the monster trio and how they act when they're way too jealous for their own good...
characters: luffy, sanji & zoro!
warnings: a teeny tinyyy amount of swearing [:
a/n: first time writing for them so i'm pretty nervous!!! , hope you enjoy!! banner is made by me, inspired by the lovely @sixosix and the layout is inspired by the lovely @luckyscribbles <3
it was his fault! it really was.. he was the sole reason you were entertaining this way too confident guy- because he told you that he was out of your league! can you believe that?! and now ZORO is throwing daggers at the poor man just with his piercing gaze alone..
ignoring zoro's needy angry glares he's sending you two, you continue charming your ... acquauntance, growing his already far too stretched ego. "oh darling, how i could melt in those beautiful emerald colored eyes of yours~" and with that sanji cringe-worthy comment you got him babbling on about himself... again.
you're getting progressively more annoyed the longer you hear him try to flirt with you. nonetheless you don't move an inch, because you know he's watching your every move; waiting for you to come moping to him about the guy. he'd feel a sense pride because you came back to him. and that pride, the face he makes whenever he turns out to be right about something, albeit it's a very handsome one, is the last thing you want to witness right now.
so you keep yourself from throwing this guy's drink in his face and telling him his cologne is absolutely murdering your sense of smelling.
you look up as you suddenly stop hearing the random guy talk about some castle garden of his. he gulps hesistantly whilst zoro stands before you, hands in his pockets. "we're leaving." no you're not! "oh zoro~ i barely-" "now." you stand up and turn to leave, but quickly turn back around and give the stranger a kiss on his cheek before leaving with zoro, causing his cheeks to change to a red-shade.
"miss! will i ever see you again?!" he asks before backing up seeing zoro's death glare. "my love, if we are meant to be we will definitely meet again!" what's up with you and these shakespear lines?
zoro gives you a slight shove with his shoulder as he rolld his eyes for what seems like the millionth time this hour. "i think i found my soulmate zoro!" you sang while you interlocked you arm with his. you were met with yet another eye-roll.
"you were the one that said he's out of my league, remember?" zoro huffs annoyed. "shit- that was a joke damn it!" "if anything you're out of his fucking league, dumbass" you lean onto him as you two continue making your way back to the going merry.
"maybe i exaggerated a bit too.." you slowly admit before hearing his usual chuckle. "just don't go flirting with some stranger again, ever. shit could've gone wrong real fast y'know?" you smile sheepishly and nod. "good thing you were there huh?"
and you could've sworn you say his cheeks turn into a rose color before he swiftly turned his head to the side, greeting sanji and nami. was he blushing..?
SANJI was this close.. this close to absolutely losing it and slicing this daring man up with zoro's swords. who does he think he is? flirtingly, charmingly speaking with his lover?! well truth be told.. you two weren't official, far from it actually;
you two were so close to finally having the months-due talk about the classic, what are we-question. but of course sanji had to hit on the waitress that casually passed your table. that was your final straw. if he couldn't stop his antics for one night, you would resume yours for good.
and oh how it made him clench his fists so hard they became white, how it made him ignore all the beautiful ladies surrounding him, for what felt like the first time ever, how he saw you with your pretty dress on, that he bought for you because it reminded him of you, sat on some navy's lap, entertaining the bastard not worhty of a single enchanting smile of yours. yet there you were smiling, no laughing at something the navy said, all while you were supposed to be with sanji. laughing at something he said, playing with his hair, sat on his lap.
he was this close to exploding and increasing his bounty a good amount by punching this navy untill his fists fell off. "sanji, don't you fucking dare." nami warned him, glaring at him from the other side of the table, not in the mood to be on the run again after finally being able to relax for a day.
sanji heard nami, he did! but the minute he saw the disgusting navy's hand run up your thigh causing you to jump off of him, he finally lost it. "keep your fucking hands off her you sewer rat!" he jumped up sprinting at the navy, his snow-white fists ready to release all the pent up anger he held.
but before sanji got to the navy he was stopped by you. your soft, slightly cold hands holding back one of his clenched fists. causing him to slowly unclench it. you tried to push sanji back, knowing his uproar would bring about another navy chasing. "you alright, love?" it's as if all his previous anger vanished the moment he felt your soft touch, smelled you sweet perfume, the moment you felt like his again. "y-yeah i'm good.. but we should get goi-"
"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?!" the navy man roared causing the others to swiftly join the yelling. "hey aren't those those strawhat pirates with a bounty?!" from the other side of the room it felt like you could hear nami's long sigh. "see what you've done?! grab zoro, usopp and i will take luffy!" everyone complied and assumed their role.
sanji lifted his leg up ready to kick zoro awake right before you pushed him slightly making him stand on two feet again. "not doing that sanji!" he playfully rolls his eyes at your statement.
waking up zoro and running to the ship in a hurry, with a good 3 dozen navy soldiers running behind you calling you names, was the usual. but what surprised you was sanji holding your hand tightly the whole way, not letting go for a second.
once on the ship, back to sailing on the waters, while everyone was catching their breath, sanji took you aside, he interlocked your hands with his while he locked your gazes, still breathless he looks at you earnestly. his eyes illuminating the moon's glow. "i'll stop the flirting my darling, i promise. the only woman i'll charm will be you.. so you better not grow tired of it." he chuckled still a little breathless. you smiled, leaning your body onto his. "you better sanji.."
"i'm all yours sweetheart. all yours"
LUFFY felt weird. he had never met this man before, yet he suddenly has the urge to gum gum bazooka him for the rest of the day. why is he feeling this way right now? is it because he hadn't eaten yet? no that can't be it.. he just had a very good meal with you; you two had split up from the rest of the crew to have your lunch at some fancy looking restaurant on the beach.
luffy furrows his eyebrows once again because of this feeling. he figures, after a while to be completely honest, that the reason he wants to kick this man off the island is that he's taking way too long speaking with you. he's been occupying you for a good 10 minutes now.
how could he? how did he dare to take you from him so carelessly? you two were enjoying your meals, yes you were chatting about the dumbest subjects known to the world, but you were enjoying it. and then some buff man comes and dares to ask you for directions?! it would've been fine if he had left after receiving them, but no, he had to keep talking to you!
luffy was starting to see red at this point. he gets it he does, you're a beautiful woman, you're smart yet very funny, energetic and enjoyable! but you're his. even though you don't know that, even though he never told you that, you are his. and no buff, tall, slick back haired guy was going to change that one bit.
luffy dropped his food and started to walk towards the two of you, angrily eyeing the bold man who was about to get bazooka-d to some far-away island. luffy started stretching his arms, getting ready to send him off.
you notice right away and block luffy's path to the man. trying to laugh it off, you said your goodbyes to the fella and dragged luffy back to the restaurant. "what were you thinking, luff! that could've ended up horribly!" you whisper-yelled, not wanting to attract any more unwanted gazes.
"he took you from me for 10 minutes! how was I supposed to endure any longer!" luffy childishly pouts as he resumes eating. "you could've just said so! no need to bazooka anyone anywhere luf'!" his furrowed eyebrows soften as he hears his nickname.
the first time you called him that he truly hated it. "it sounds like a dog's name!" he complained. but over time, that nickname became apart of him, it was apart of his daily routine; he'd wake up to it, adventure the world with it, buy groceries with it, hear scolds with it. he became one with that silly nickname you gave him, and he wouldn't give that three-letter name up for the world. he wouldn't be able to go a day anymore without hearing you talking about how "the seashells here are so pretty luf'!", or how "i just love it when it's only you and i, luf'," and let's not forget you waking him up with the usual "luf'! sanji finished breakfast, get up already!".
"you can't go off with weird men. i won't let you.. you shouldn't leave my side for some guy that doesn't even know where he's headed!" you chuckle at his remarks. "i wouldn't leave you for anyone luf'! just.. don't bazooka someone next time.. just talk to me."
"you're mine y'know.." luffy tells you while he's munching on some of his cold meat. your eyes widen at his sudden words. "w-what?" "i said you're mine!" he says louder, a little annoyed thinking you hadn't heard him the first time. "you never said that before.."
"never needed to," he takes another bite. "but you are, so don't forget that!" he furrows his eyebrows again while saying that earning a chuckle from you. "i won't.. don't you worry"
NOTE: and that's for my first one piece ficcccc!!!
#one piece#one piece x reader#one piece x you#one piece x y/n#roronoa zoro#one piece zoro#zoro x reader#zoro x you#sanji x reader#sanji x you#vinsmoke sanji#sanji#one piece sanji#monkey d. luffy#luffy#one piece luffy#luffy x reader#luffy x y/n#luffy x you#anime#x reader#op x reader#one piece fluff
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𝐚𝐜𝐞・h.h.
— volleyball superstar and your personal hell hwang hyunjin proposes a trade-off you can't refuse: his matchmaking services for a passing anthropology grade. the plan is foolproof in theory; in practice, it is something else entirely.
words・15.2k
pairing・volleyball player!hyunjin x tutor!reader (gn)
genres・college!au, sports!au, fake enemies to friends to lovers, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, slice of life, mutual pining, slow burn. two polar opposites sharing one soul. a seungjin fic if u squint. loosely inspired by the manga/anime haikyuu!!
warnings・mentions of anxiety, fear of failure, heartbreak, loneliness, and self-image. course language and callous banter (as always) ft. suggestive flirting and one kms joke. some of the referenced players and coaches are real; this fic is not.
playlist・collision by stray kids・value by ado・waiting for us by stray kids・eternity by bang chan・dreaming by smallpools・fly high!! by burnout syndromes
a/n・writing this felt like returning to my roots tbh. i love volleyball and i love sports aus and i love, love hwang hyunjin. thank u to my sahar for bringing this fic to life with me, as always; i can no longer write for him without also writing for you. i hope u guys enjoy reading this as much as i adored writing it. happy late birthday, our jinnie, our hyunjin, our forever ace; you are so unbelievably loved ♡
“Not a word out of you,” you say, tossing your backpack onto the floor of the lecture hall with a heavy-handed flick. “I’m serious.”
Hyunjin glances up at you with a frown. “When did people stop saying good morning?”
Your lack of an immediate comeback tells him the situation is dire. He observes you for a moment, his mouth falling open, hanging still, then curving into a slow, serpentine smile.
“Look at me.”
“No.”
“Look at me.”
“No.”
“Please, angel.”
“No! Leave me alone.”
Hyunjin slumps back into his seat, thinking hard. The solution occurs to him with a poke of his tongue into his cheek. “Coffee on me for a week.”
At this, your hands stop rummaging in your bag. You cock your head, your interest piqued. Got you.
When you finally humor him and turn around, you’re flinching like you’re in pain, eyes closed and breath held and all. He giggles and leans in for a closer look. Tendrils of your body spray reach him from here, floral and light like a tropical coastline. He could’ve counted your eyelashes if he wasn’t so flummoxed by the state of your forehead.
“What the hell did you do?”
“Tried to cut my own bangs,” you sigh. “It didn’t go very well and now I look like Rock Lee.”
Hyunjin lets out a forceful laugh. “You’ve seen Naruto?”
You open your eyes. Only then does Hyunjin remember how little distance he left between your faces, when he’s staring straight into them and all the strange, starry speckles they hold.
The air between you curdles like sour milk.
Things are awkward between you often, he’s realized recently. What’s more, he didn’t think he was capable of being awkward with anyone anymore until he met you. It was your ill-fated seat that he chose to sit next to on the first day of ANTH 111, your ill-fated lap onto which he chose to spill his Americano, and the rest was history (or, in this case, anthropology). His tongue ends up in sailor’s knots with every smart-aleck comment and pitiful laugh you’ve given him since. Maybe there’s more to it, maybe there isn’t—Hyunjin doesn’t think about it much. He doesn’t like thinking in general.
You pull away from each other in unison. You clear your throat, glancing elsewhere.
“Of course I’ve seen Naruto,” you quip, and everything is normal again. “Why do you seem surprised?”
“Because you’re so scholarly.”
“I am not scholarly.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You go to a park to play chess with old people on weekends.”
“I need to get my steps in somehow.”
“You didn’t know what Urban Dictionary was until I told you to look up—”
“God, I learned so much about you that day."
“Your favorite social media platform is Quizlet,” he bursts, exasperated. “Quizlet.”
“It is not.” An introspective pause. “Or is it?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Hyunjin throws his feet up on the chair below him, jabs in your direction with a bandaged finger. “There is no way you enjoy watching 2D men beat each other up in your free time. I don’t buy it.”
“Honestly, I thought you’d have more to say about my current appearance than my hobbies.”
He does, though. Matter of fact, he’s been curating a list since this conversation started: Vector from Despicable Me, Dora the Explorer’s hot older sibling, Spock. You face-planted into a lawnmower. You mistook a paper shredder for a hat. It goes on.
But then his head turns. Your eyes meet again. He’s reminded that it’s hard to sustain an inner monologue and look at you at the same time, Vector resemblance and all.
He reaches up, nudges a lock of your hair over a centimeter or so, and gives the patch of forehead a gentle flick.
“Watermelon,” he mumbles with a sickening smile.
You divert your attention to your lecture notes with a disappointed click of your tongue. “You’re getting soft.”
He spends the entire lecture daydreaming about tropical coastlines.
“I only get coffee from that one place on the east side of campus, by the way,” you say as you’re strolling out the building together, “and I get it a very specific way. Can you handle it?”
“Your faith gets me out of bed in the morning,” Hyunjin deadpans. “I’ll handle it, love. Text me your order.”
All of a sudden, you position your hands close to your stomach, the lapels of your jacket casting them in shadow. Your fingers begin to move in a sequence that he’d recognize anywhere.
“Body flicker jutsu,” you whisper, and then you’re scurrying off without another word—but you do glance back at him to gauge his response. Your smile is purely effulgent, your laugh but a faint sigh against the main quad’s busy thrum.
Hyunjin gapes at your retreating figure for so long that phosphenes start prancing around his field of view. Then he heads to the gym. His heart is pounding against his ribs like a battering ram.
“Hwang, I need you in my office.”
Hyunjin stops lacing up his shoes to see Coach Bang standing on the court’s sideline with a grim air about him. He glances at his captain, confused.
“Don’t look at me,” Minho says mid-stretch. “Godspeed.”
“Thanks, cap.” Useless.
Head volleyball coach Christopher Bang’s workspace reminds Hyunjin of a morgue. It’s all fluorescent lights and spotless white walls, the only decorative fixture a picture of his siblings, parents, and dog in front of the Sydney Opera House, framed and facing him atop his desk. Hyunjin once snuck the thing into the bathroom, an innocent plot to satiate his curiosity, and promptly discovered the man’s propensity for violence. He’s packing beneath those dry-cleaned polos, by the way.
Hyunjin closes the door and takes a seat. Bang taps a knuckle against the tempered glass of his monitor. “You can read, right?”
“Yes, coach,” he sighs. Everyone’s expectations for him are subterranean.
From: Park Jinyoung «[email protected]»
To: Bang “Christopher” Chan «[email protected]»
Subject: Not good
See email from Hwang’s antopology professor below . He submitted the complete script of the Trolls movie instead of his mid term paper and now he’s failing the class . Not good . Sort out ASAP
JP
Sent from my iPad
Bang snatches up his mouse and scrolls, his ears turning scarlet. “Wrong email.”
“Yep.”
From: Kim Kyeyoung «[email protected]»
To: Park Jinyoung «[email protected]»
Subject: Regarding Hwang Hyunjin
To Director of Athletics Park,
I am writing to inform you that, as of yesterday, Mr. Hwang Hyunjin has a D- (64.9%) in ANTH 111: Cultural Anthropology, due to his submission of the complete script of a kids’ movie instead of his midterm paper.
It is disappointing to see Mr. Hwang trivialize and ridicule my class to such a degree. Please see to it that he reorganizes his priorities lest his Student-Athlete Participation Agreement do so for him.
Regards,
Kim Kyeyoung
Professor of Anthropology
“That’s bullshit!”
“We’re in agreement there.” Bang folds his arms over his chest, throws his foot over his knee. “Do you know what your Student-Athlete Participation Agreement says?”
“Does anyone?” Hyunjin scoffs. Bang whips out a form and brings it to eye level, the thing covered from top to bottom in microscopic Times New Roman. “No way you just had that.”
“I had it delivered ten minutes ago,” Bang confesses, then clears his throat and begins to recite. “All student-athletes must complete the academic term with a C or higher in all courses, should they wish to continue their participation in athletics thereafter.”
Hyunjin stiffens. “What the fuck? I’ve never heard—”
“If any Department of Athletics personnel,” Bang continues, raising his voice, “have reason to believe that a student-athlete will not be able to satisfy this requirement, they are encouraged to utilize resources such as academic advising or peer tutoring in guiding said student-athlete back onto the correct path.”
He shoves the piece of paper across his desk. “Read that name aloud for me.”
Hyunjin stares at the signature at the bottom of the page, scrawled so carelessly that most of it deviates away from its designated line. There is a rare hollowness in his chest that he recognizes as anxiety. With it comes a glimpse of a life without volleyball, the question of what little of him would remain.
“Hwang Hyunjin,” he says under his breath.
The office goes silent. Bang tucks the form back into his drawer. It closes with a gentle click.
Then comes the yelling.
“The Trolls movie? Trolls?! Are you fucking with me, Hwang?”
“It was a cultural reset! The pinnacle of modern media! How’s that for anthropology?”
“BAD!” Bang explodes, gesturing to the email emphatically. “VERY, VERY BAD!”
Hyunjin slumps over, dejected.
“You’ve never had trouble with school before.” He leans over his desk imposingly. “What the hell happened this semester? What changed?”
Nothing is the first answer that comes to mind, but Hyunjin’s pulse spikes like a lie detector. Upon the inside of his eyes replays a scene of a certain someone with watermelon bangs doing teleportation jutsu at him from a few yards away, wearing a smile made of some kind of space dust that astronomists haven’t discovered yet.
He grits his teeth, annoyed. This is what happens when he thinks.
“Beats me,” he fibs. “Typical junior year stress, maybe.”
“Does any of it have to do with Piazza?”
Hyunjin shudders.
It just might, actually.
Modesty has no place in the career he’s had: high school national champion turned ace hitter in both the South Korean U21 roster and regular rotation for Seoul National University, the best collegiate volleyball team in the country. His name has lived at the top of ranking lists and the center of gold medals since he turned old enough to qualify for them; the press believes him the instigant of South Korea’s imminent volleyball revolution. It’s a mouthful, he knows.
It was never a question that he would go professional; the question was who he should talk to and where he would go.
At the start of the school year, Bang, acting in place of the agent he was advised to find and never bothered to, gave him a list of people to reach out to. On the very top was none other than Roberto Piazza, the chairman and head coach of Allianz Milano, one of the most eminent club teams in the world—and current home to Hyunjin’s personal idol, outside hitter Ishikawa Yuki.
Hyunjin thought his poor coach had finally succumbed to his old age. The thought of stepping onto the same court as Ishikawa felt sacrilegious, let alone donning the red, white, and navy blue of Allianz Milano with him. But Bang slapped him on the back of the neck and reminded him that going professional was equal parts preparation and opportunity; he was never going to know the answers to questions he didn’t ask. Hyunjin was coerced to fire off an introductory email despite his reservations.
Piazza replied within the week.
For the last five months, Hyunjin has been fighting with tooth and nail to manage his expectations. He scrolls past the team’s social media posts like they burn his eyes. He replies to Piazza’s emails right before working out with Changbin under the assumption that whatever the shredded libero does to him will eviscerate his brain. If his world is made of dreams, this is the one at its very core, imbued with destructive potential the second it became attainable.
But that’s the last five months. The last five weeks have been you kicking him in the shin because he’s laughing (or trying to make you laugh) and the professor is staring; you listening to him rant and rave about volleyball when he knows you couldn’t care less about the sport; you relaying the contents of your class readings like hot gossip, your eyes wild and hands flying around because you can’t contain your excitement. You, you, you.
He cards a hand through his air, regaining focus. “You know how I feel about Piazza.”
“Expect the worst, hope for the best.” Bang’s chair skids backwards as he stands up. “I think it’s a good approach.”
Suddenly, he is directly in front of Hyunjin, low enough to meet his eyes. His hands rest upon his shoulders firmly.
“But hope is hungry, and it will consume you if you let it,” he says. “Do not let it, Hyunjin. I’m not asking.”
Even while being squeezed to a pulp and regarded with the cold intensity of a statue, Hyunjin can’t help but feel anchored, somehow, to the floor of this miserable office. Protected.
Bang lets go of him. “I’m not asking you to find a tutor by the end of the week, either.”
Hyunjin groans. “Yeah, yeah. I’m on it.”
A set of bandaged fingers appear in your periphery to place a paper cup onto your laptop. Accompanying the smell of fresh coffee is that of smoky rose, as decidedly douchey as ever.
“I thought you said your order was complicated.”
You look up from your phone to see Hyunjin plop into the adjacent seat. His long, caramel-colored hair is damp and unstyled in the aftermath of a morning shower, droplets of water pearling on the lapels of a navy blue windbreaker, layered over a white long sleeve. You recognize the outfit by now as game gear.
“Was it not?” You ask.
“It was an Americano, love. I walked up to the cashier and placed an order for an Americano.”
“Well, I wasn’t sure if you could handle that much.” He flips you off as you squint at the cup. “Someone wrote their number on the lid, by the way.”
“What? Really?”
“No.”
He shoves you hard enough for your upper body to drape over the opposite armrest; you’re still cackling by the time you’ve straightened up again.
“Why did you get this, anyway?” Hyunjin grumbles. “I thought you had a sweet tooth.”
“I do, but you don’t.”
Only then does the fool understand that you had no intention of charging him in coffee just for a haircut reveal. He takes back the coffee hesitantly.
“Thanks,” he says at last. “Nice of you.”
“I know, right? Hated it,” you respond, and he almost chokes on his first sip.
You almost choke on nothing when Kim Seungmin materializes in the aisle adjacent. He holds out a hand in Hyunjin’s direction. “Yo.”
Hyunjin dabs it up mid-sip. “I fully forgot you were in this class.”
“Well, I’m due for my weekly appearance.” Seungmin slips into the seat directly below you, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Hey, Y/N.”
“Hi,” you say, somehow managing to stumble over the single syllable the word has. You thank your lucky stars that you fixed your hair yesterday.
You like Kim Seungmin. Not just in the cutesy, crushy way, but in the “I would relinquish all of my rights for you” way where you spend every waking moment cursing out whatever stroke of misfortune placed Hyunjin in the seat next to you instead of him. He’s funny, gorgeous, and talented—a vocal performance major with a student-athlete contract—and you think your infatuation is more than justified. Hyunjin thinks it’s hilarious.
You side-eye your blonde adversary, prepared to see one of three things: a suppressed laugh, a dramatic eye-roll, or a mature kissy face that usually results in the first option. You’re met with something far more worrisome.
He’s thinking.
That can’t be good.
Suddenly, his phone screen lights up with a text that temporarily wipes the conspiratorial gleam from his eye. Hyunjin scans it over and groans. “Can this guy do his fucking job?”
“He wouldn’t have to if you didn’t quit,” Seungmin answers. “I’ll never forget you, Manager Hwang.”
“Shut up.” You peer at Hyunjin, silently requesting an explanation. “Our captain is forcing us to help him look for a new team manager. We need one for playoffs because of some stupid U-League rule—Seung, why do you look morose?”
“I’m mourning.” Seungmin does look morose indeed. “Hyunjin committed larceny last year and our coach punished him by making him our team manager for the rest of the season. It was so funny.”
Hyunjin slides down his seat. “It was the worst experience of my life.”
Neither man seems inclined to elaborate on the mention of larceny. You choose to digress. “Can I ask why?”
“He had to be responsible,” Seungmin whispers. “For other people.”
The top of Hyunjin’s head stops right next to your armrest. You reach over and pat his hair in faux sympathy. “Poor thing.”
“Hardass refused to do it again this year, so now we’re recruiting.” Seungmin props an elbow upon the back of his chair, looks at you contemplatively. “I don’t suppose you have four hours to spare every day.”
Hyunjin scoffs from below you. Loudly. “This one? Team manager?”
“I can see it.”
“I can see killing myself, maybe.”
The next time you reach for him is to hit his forehead. A crisp smack resounds around the barren lecture hall. Hyunjin cusses into his seat cushion.
“Seems like a great candidate to me,” Seungmin muses, and the warm smile he gives you mirrors onto your face before you can think better of it. God, it’s pretty. You wonder how it would feel pressed against your own.
Hyunjin is now completely out of sight and halfway onto the floor. “I miss when you didn’t come to class, Seungmin.”
Eighty minutes later, you’ve just emerged from the classroom when Seungmin calls out to you. You come to such a sudden halt that Hyunjin almost trips over you, but you barely notice him stumble, utterly enraptured by the hand Seungmin brings to the strands of hair by your ear, the fingers that dust your cheek as they pluck a small piece of lint from out of the tresses.
“Sorry.” He flicks it away with a sheepish smile. “I couldn’t unsee it.”
You manage to thank him just before your whole body ceases to function. Hyunjin sidesteps the two of you, yawning.
Seungmin excuses himself not too long after you reach the main quad. You also turn to leave, sparing Hyunjin a curt farewell in the process. He hooks his pointer finger around the handle at the top of your backpack and lugs you backwards with infuriating ease.
“I didn’t like that at all,” you say.
“I don’t care. I have something to tell you.”
“You have a kid, don’t you?”
“Wha—huh? Who do you think I am?”
“The one-night-stand’s poster child. The champion of the contraception industry.”
“Yeah, contraception industry. It’s right there in the name.”
You can’t argue with that. “What do you have to tell me?”
A shadow of hesitation flits across Hyunjin’s face. Your smile falters. Is it possible that you’re about to have a serious conversation with him for the first time? Maybe you should’ve saved the secret son bit for another time.
“I’m failing anthro.”
So much for a serious conversation.
“Come again?”
He repeats the mystifying statement.
“You’re joking.” The look on his face says otherwise, though, and your eyebrows disappear into your hair. “You’re failing anthro?”
“I just said that, yes.”
“You’re failing anthropology?”
“Mhm.”
“Just so we’re clear—you’re failing Introduction to Cultural Anthropology?”
“Yes. I’m glad you’re having fun.”
This is the best day of your life. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”
“Yeah, well, our professor has no media literacy,” he mutters.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Hyunjin clears his throat. “Anyways, I was thinking—”
“Wow! Congratulations. That’s a big—oomf—”
Hyunjin puts his entire hand over your face. Your mangled noises of protest go unacknowledged.
“I was thinking,” he continues, pushing your head around like a stick shift, “you and I can work out some kind of deal.”
You shove his wrist off you with a revolted groan. “I think I just ate some athletic tape.”
“Happens. You wanna hear the deal or not?”
“Does it involve ingesting more sports equipment?”
“Do you want it to?”
“Just tell me the deal, boy.”
“Alright.” He takes a deep breath. “If you help me pass this class, I’ll set you up with Seungmin.”
Your head performs a triple-axel on your neck. You are unable to respond for what feels like multiple hours. Finally: “I’m gonna need you to elaborate.”
“On which part?”
“All of them. Everything.”
Hyunjin sighs, then scans the courtyard. His gaze settles on the student union a little ways off. “Are you hungry?”
You pick up a sandwich and a smoothie in a state of nervous stupor. One would think it’s the prime minister you’re about to have lunch with and not an imbecilic left-side hitter eating from three different entrees at the same time.
He’s chosen a table a few yards away from a planter of flowering cherry blossom trees. You feel jealous eyes on the side of your face as you take a seat across from Hyunjin, but they don’t know that his telephone pole legs still bump against yours even with them drawn as close to your body as anatomically possible. Or that he’s drawing up a literal Ponzi scheme on your sandwich wrapper. You wager you’ve had better company.
“You like anthropology. I like listening to you talk about anthropology.” He traces over the wrapper’s left corner. “And I kinda want you to boss me around. That weird?”
“Yes, definitely,” you mumble around a mouthful of bread. “Go on.”
“Conclusion one: you should be my tutor.” He taps in place as if applying a finishing touch, then swaps to the opposite side. “You also like my teammate, but he’s neck-deep in volleyball and music this semester, which makes him hard to get a hold of—for most people.”
“Let me guess. Not for you.”
“Ten points to Ravenclaw.” His British accent is nightmarish. “Seung and I live in the same building. We get dinner when we go back from practice together. Conclusion two: you should come with us.”
“To dinner or to practice?”
“To both. Which brings us to my third and final conclusion—”
He slams a fist onto the center of the wrapper.
“—you should manage our team.”
“I knew it!” You slam the table as well, your smoothie wobbling upon impact. “You’re trying to swindle me! You can’t pay for my labor with more labor. What do you take me for?”
“It’s not labor, dumbass! Ask our last manager! He didn’t do shit!”
“Yeah? Who was your last manager?”
“Me!”
Oh, right. “But you hated it!”
“I hate everything that isn’t playing volleyball. Try again.”
You fold your arms over your chest. “You said you’d kill yourself if I managed you.”
Hyunjin starts balling up your sandwich wrapper. “It’s true. I thought about you and my coach getting along and promptly got a rash. But it makes so much sense: you do whatever you want during practice, tutor me afterwards, and then you and Seung can eyefuck over ramen or something. My coach hops off my dick, you hop on Seung’s—”
“STOP!” A girl drops her receipt not too far away, startled by your outburst. “Stop right there. I get it. Stop.”
“It’s a good plan.” He slings the paper ball towards the nearest trash can. It drops into the hole without so much as a brush against the rim. “You know it is.”
You’re loath to admit that you do. “When did you even come up with all this?”
He flicks a thumb in the direction of your anthropology class. No fucking wonder he’s failing.
“What is this, mock trial?”
The owner of this voice is the third man you’ve seen today donning that navy windbreaker, white long-sleeve combo. He has a face that reminds you of your neighbor’s cat from back home, sleek and sharp and only slightly sinister. There’s a dash of humor in his expression as he approaches your table like he’s enjoying the company of a court jester.
“Slamming tables like fuckin’ tariff lawyers,” the cat-man hums, lifting a hand in Hyunjin’s direction. “I could see it from all the way inside.”
“Captain!” Hyunjin crows, dabbing him up without missing a beat. They really do that like breathing. “Just the man I was hoping to see.”
“Really? I thought you’d be avoiding me like the rest of our homunculus team.”
“I would never.”
“You did. Yesterday. When you saw me and started running in the opposite direction.” He pauses for emphasis. “As fast as possible.”
“Well, that was yesterday. Today is a new day.” Hyunjin tosses you a proud glance. “And today, I bring you a new team manager.”
You stiffen. “I haven’t—”
“Is that so!” When the stranger smiles at you, you feel the same satisfaction you did every time the cat let you scratch her on the chin. “Music to my ears. What’s your name, cutie?”
You catch Hyunjin’s eye across the table; he nods enthusiastically as if saying go on, then. You briefly picture yourself strangling him with his own athletic tape. You then picture yourself hopping on Seungmin’s—
Rigidly, you throw a hand out to the cat-man, your face aflame.
“Y/N,” you grumble. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”
He shakes on it heartily. “Likewise. I’m Minho. Welcome to the team.”
“Yes, welcome to the team,” Hyunjin parrots, looking positively jolly. You gnash your teeth together so hard your jaw throbs.
He’s lucky that his proposal holds so much water. He’s lucky that you don’t plan to strangle him until after you try that eyefucking thing.
You do kick him under the table, though.
The team has five weeks to prepare for the Korean University League, the biggest college-level volleyball tournament in the country. You have five days to learn how the hell athletic tape works. You can’t tell which is the bigger endeavor.
“I’m going to cause him irreversible skeletal damage,” you tell Changbin.
The team’s libero is twice as kind as he is talented, a full-time sweetheart working part-time at the university’s sports medicine clinic. Only your first week on the job and you’ve already decided he’s the only person on Earth you would permit to usher you through the gym at 6:45 A.M., a roll of athletic tape pressed to your back like a pistol.
“You will not,” Changbin answers. “One, because this won’t involve his skeleton, and two, because I wouldn’t ask you to help if it did.”
“You’ve misunderstood me,” you return as the two of you stop in front of an examination room. “I want to cause him irreversible skeletal damage.”
“Oh.” He opens the door with a frown. “Oh dear.”
Inside, Hyunjin is sitting cross-legged on top of a taping table, fitted in a loose gray tee and athletic shorts. He watches in pessimistic silence as you enter the room and beeline straight towards the shelf on the right. You slip a thick binder into your hands and bury your nose inside it without so much as a greeting.
“I am going to get maimed,” Hyunjin tells Changbin.
“Have some faith, both of you,” Changbin replies sternly. You find the pages you’re looking for and begin poring over them like you’re cramming for an exam. “You’ll be fine, Jinnie. Y/N studied.”
“Studied?” He repeats. “For this?”
“I’m pretty sure Quizlets were made.”
“Three, to be exact," you interject, sticking out your hand. “Now tape me.”
Hyunjin mouths the words tape me in baffled silence. The latter obliges your request with a smile. “See? What could go wrong?”
The answer to that, actually, is a lot. Especially after Changbin gets called away to help stretch out a teammate named Felix who allegedly “sprained his ass,” leaving Hyunjin to you and your binder.
You detect no smoky rose in the air around him today, just the subtle smells of cedar and cypress—laundry detergent or shampoo, maybe. Figures he doesn’t wear that insufferable cologne to practice.
“Go easy on me, yeah?”
While Hyunjin’s tone is teasing, yours is downright somber.
“I can’t promise anything.”
With that, you turn your palms face-up in a silent request for his hand.
A few strands of hair fall into your face as you lean in for a better look. It’s the first time you’ve seen his fingers untaped; they’re pretty, long and slender and surprisingly manicured, but also battered in their delicacy, the veins running over the back of his hand and forearm prominent, his bottom knuckles discolored from the healing bruises they bear. His hard work is palpable upon the smooth skin as evidently as if tattooed.
Hyunjin says your name in close proximity. You respond with an absent hum.
“You’re not nervous, are you?”
“No. Maybe a little.” You let his hand fall free and go to rummage for supplies. “Fine, yes. Very.”
“But you made Quizlets. You’re prepared for anything.”
“That’s what I’m saying!” You realize only after spotting the gentle smile on his face that he’s making fun of you. “I hate you.”
“Actually,” he hums, “I think you care about me, love. That’s why you’re nervous.”
“Nonsense—I care about disappointing Changbin. That’s it.”
“And me. And hopping on Seungmin’s dick. All these things don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”
You try to tackle him. Hyunjin catches your hands a few inches away from his face, fingers closing around your wrists with obnoxious agility.
“Have you lost your mind?” You whisper-shout, your face on fire. “Don’t bring that up here. I’ll maim you for real.”
The laugh that explodes out of him throws his entire body backwards, turns his eyes to crescent moons and his mouth into a little rectangle. You hate that you don’t hate when that happens.
“My bad, my bad. It slipped out. I won’t—”
One incremental shift of Hyunjin’s body later, you find that you’re precariously, alarmingly close to one another.
So much so that you notice the mole beneath his left eye for the first time, that you're nearly cross-eyed looking at it. That the tip of your nose actually brushes against his before you pull away with a quiet intake of breath.
Things are awkward between you often, you’ve realized recently. You’re both professional yappers, always quick to digress, quick to find a new topic to bicker about before the awkwardness marinates. But hours later you’ll look back on the interaction and still remember how the air shifted: like a layer of dust had been blown away and something untouched and unknown was discovered just underneath.
Since you’ve met him, Hyunjin has spent more time on your nerves than on your mind. You’re not exactly losing sleep over such a circumstantial acquaintance; you know that his presence in your life will end the way it began, naturally and anticlimactically and inside the ANTH 111 lecture hall. Still, it doesn’t go unnoticed when your heart and stomach launch into an elaborate gymnastics routine in the wake of something he says or does, just as they’re doing now.
Hyunjin glances into your right eye a moment, then your left. The mole just below his left eye disappears when he smiles, the expression soft, saccharine, and sincere. How anyone casually looks the way he does is beyond your abilities of comprehension.
“Thank you,” he murmurs.
Your face continues to burn, now perhaps for different reasons. “What for?”
He lets go of your wrist, sweeps the lock of hair that keeps getting in your eyes behind the cuff of your ear.
“Caring about me.”
Then he flicks your forehead. You recoil with a quiet ow.
“Now stop stalling and tape me, dumbass.”
“Okay,” you mutter, rubbing the injury tenderly. “No need to get violent.”
It turns out the arduous taping procedure described in the instruction manual is for serious hand injuries. Hyunjin splints his fingers together for support, not rehabilitation, so it takes all of five minutes for him to talk you through his process. You finish taping both of his hands with nineteen minutes to spare. So maybe the Quizlets were overkill.
As you’re walking him down to practice, you take his hand and lift it to eye level, scanning your craftsmanship dubiously. “It’s not too tight, is it?”
“It’s perfect.” He swivels the hand around and grabs onto your entire face, the sensation by now eerily familiar. “Want another taste?”
You shove him down the stairs that remain. Unfortunately, there are only two. “You are truly grotesque.”
The gym has come to life since you arrived earlier this morning, now illuminated by shining ceiling lights in addition to the sun spilling through high, narrow windows. Most of the team has yet to step onto the court, still stretching or jogging along the sidelines: Minho and Coach Bang are talking strategy on the bench, the coach taking notes on a handheld whiteboard every now and then; Changbin is leaning over a recumbent Felix below the scoreboard, presumably trying to fix his ass.
The only one already with a ball in hand is Seungmin, setting to himself by the net. Once, twice, thrice straight up in the air, and then he glances in your direction and sends the fourth towards the left side of the court in a buoyant arc.
You only glean bits and pieces of the next few seconds. Hyunjin is at your side one moment, making a break for the net the next. His arms draw backwards in perfect synchrony. Feet hit the floor with laserlike intent. His entire body unravels like a fraying chrysalis as he rises to meet the ball, pounds it over the net and into the ground at an angle so clean that the sound of its landing resounds within your ribcage. It rebounds over the railing of the second floor and barely misses the doorway of the examination room you just emerged from.
Hyunjin drops lightly back onto his feet, following the ball’s tumultuous trajectory with proud eyes. A leftover breeze tosses a strand of hair over the bridge of your nose, and time starts moving again.
“Oi, this isn’t your backyard! Go pick that up!” Their coach booms, though his words lack their usual bitterness after what he just witnessed his ace hitter do.
Hyunjin swivels towards Seungmin first. “Crazy bitch. What the fuck was that?”
“Lower and faster. Further from the net too,” Seungmin returns. “How’d it feel?”
The grin on Hyunjin’s face reminds you of a wildfire, untamed and all-consuming and frightening in its fervor. “Like we just won everything.”
He tousles your hair as he jogs past you and back up the stairs to fetch the volleyball. Seungmin waves at you with one hand and palms another ball into his other. His face is warm and bare, his slim build flattered by his volleyball gear. You’ve witnessed few people so nice to look at and even fewer things as elegant as his setting form. But you are still thinking about Hyunjin—and you can’t move.
It is debilitating, watching somebody do the very thing they were destined for.
A little less than a week later, Hyunjin is approaching hour three of spewing hot garbage into a Word document when he decides to give up and call you.
“Hello?” He immediately starts laughing. “Where the fuck are you?”
You poke the top of your head into the shot of your ceiling, gesturing to your headband. “My face is preoccupied at the moment.”
“Oh, you have to show me. Please.”
You flip your phone up for no more than half a second. A camera shutter goes off, followed by a shriek so loud that it peaks your mic.
“Motherfucker!”
He basically sprints to his camera roll. His prize: you with your face slathered in cleanser, hair pinned back by a Miffy headband, looking like the abominable snowman if he liked cute merchandise.
“Thank you,” he says earnestly. “I’ll treasure this forever.”
“You’ll be punished, Hwang.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
You brandish your middle finger at him in response. He props his phone up against his computer screen with a chuckle.
“Aaanyways, I have a thesis statement to run by you.”
The first thing you did as Hyunjin’s tutor was help draft an email to Professor Kim, begging her to let him resubmit the two essays he royally botched. She replied with a lengthy quotation from her syllabus, specifically the section that talked about (and prohibited) resubmissions, but ended up making an exception for Hyunjin on account of the “truly piteous timbre” of his email. You fell out of your chair laughing when he read you her response.
“You should’ve opened with that.”
“I tried, hello? Someone distracted me!”
“Read. It. Before I change my mind.”
You spend a few minutes at most on the thesis itself, advising him to avoid passive voice, answer the prompt, establish a refutable argument, the works. Then he asks you a question about the research topic itself, allusions to the afterlife in Ancient Egyptian artwork, and the tutoring session takes a turn into what feels like a podcast episode.
You talk about the God of Death, Anubis, and his connections to the underworld; the elaborate, lavish funerary rituals intended to ensure the souls of the dead traveled safely; the vibrant murals that flanked their final resting spots as pictorial requests for divine protection. And you talk about them all with such confidence, such eloquence, that it’s as if you’re leading him through a history museum rather than talking to your phone as you do your skincare. He could listen to you for hours. He does, actually.
Around 1 A.M., Hyunjin stops typing mid-sentence when you come into frame for the first time, collapsing into your bed with a sigh of relief. Your eyes are soft and sleepy as they blink at your screen, strands of damp hair clinging to your cheeks. He feels his heart physically shift inside his ribcage when your mouth stretches into a yawn. It is the same sensation as the time you shot him a smile over your shoulder and he couldn’t move for ten minutes.
With that, his attention span has run its course.
“Baby,” he interrupts gently. “Let’s stop here, okay? You seem tired.”
You open your mouth as if to protest, only to yawn again.
“I suppose I am. Will you keep working tonight?”
“I think so. I hit my stride.”
“Text me if you have questions, then. I’ll respond when I wake up.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Your lips curve into the smallest of smiles. It copies onto Hyunjin’s face incurably quickly.
���I had my doubts about this tutoring thing, you know.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, you told me this class was the closest thing to daily naptime you’d experienced since preschool.”
“It really is.”
“You also told me you would rather slam your tongue in a car door than read more than three sentences in one sitting.”
“I really would.”
“And you once referred to academia as ‘Virgin Village.’”
“Didn’t you come up with that?”
“No, hello? I live in that village.”
He grins. “I know. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”
“Fuck you.”
“Ah, don’t threaten me with a good—”
“What I’m trying to say is that I didn’t think you would take this seriously, but I’m happy to be proven wrong.”
Hyunjin leans back. “Well, turns out I might give a fuck about anthropology after all.”
“Really?”
“No.”
You pretend to punch him through the screen. It’s so cute that he forgets to think before he opens his mouth next.
“But I do give a fuck about you.”
There’s nothing crazy about the statement. You’re friends, sort of. You manage his team. It would be strange if he didn’t. But the seconds that follow are terrible, a silent prophecy of something disastrous, like a cloud of rubble before an avalanche, the standstill during a star’s final breath. And Hyunjin’s heartbeat is hounding against his ears like a performance of traditional taiko.
He says good night in a haste. The call ends. He stares at the wall of his bedroom in a muddled haze for who knows how long.
Then he opens his texts.
Hyunjin:
We have team bonding tomorrow btw
Hyunjin:
Don’t forget
Y/N:
i forgot.
Y/N:
pick me up at 6:45?
Hyunjin:
🫡
He picks you up at 7:53.
You approach his car with your fists balled and your eyebrows knitted together like a mean old curmudgeon and he’s walking too close to your lawn.
“His fault,” Hyunjin says before you start yelling.
Minho simpers at you through his open window. “Hey, you! So glad you could join us!”
You fix the man with a judgmental glare as you slide into the backseat. “Aren’t you the captain? Why are you this late?”
“Whoa, okay. I would’ve scheduled this for earlier if I knew right now was honesty hour.”
“You did schedule it for earlier,” you say. “You scheduled it for way earlier.”
“Yeah, well, you’re fired.”
“You can’t fire me, Minho.”
“I can too. Tell ‘em, Hwang.”
“I want nothing to do with this.”
When you step through the doors of the arcade, you’re met with a surge of sensory input that you haven’t experienced in years. The air hangs thick with the smells of greasy concessions; everywhere you look are flashing screens and neon signs, stuffed animals and fading posters; clamoring against your ears are the sounds of games being won or lost, of balls being pocketed or launched, and of a horde of fully grown men spectating a match of Dance Dance Revolution so passionately (and loudly) that they’ve scared everyone away from that side of the room. You recognize the current competitors as Changbin and Jeongin.
“I’ll go pay,” Hyunjin says. “How much time do we want?”
“Infinity,” Minho answers. Hyunjin doesn’t move. “Two hours.”
He flashes him a thumbs-up. “And you?”
“I’m okay, I think.”
“No you’re not,” the two men answer in perfect unison.
You glance between them warily. “I don’t mind watching, seriously. I don’t even know how most of these games work—”
“There’s Tetris,” Hyunjin cuts in.
You purchase an hour.
One would imagine the point of the evening is to break the SNU men’s volleyball team, not to bond them. You’ve never seen so many strained blood vessels in your life. Nor have you heard of half the insults they spew at each other as the night goes on. Felix has to pay a fee for lodging an air hockey puck in the side of the MarioKart machine. Changbin loses at skee-ball and has to down an XL slushie like it’s a shot. It’s a scary amount of boyishness expressed in scary ways.
But they’re happy. You’ve picked up on it when they’re on the court, noticed the raw elation they emanate just from playing together. Yet, their closeness has never been more evident to you than tonight. The men are either laughing or making someone else laugh, arms draped over each other at all times, equally happy to celebrate victories as they’re eager to punish losses. It dawns on you at some point that you’re glad to be here with them, grateful to be a part of something so special—especially because there’s Tetris.
“Have you ever considered going pro?” Hyunjin asks over your shoulder.
You waited until most of the team was distracted to slink off to your beloved machine. Hyunjin tagged along, undoubtedly with the intention of making fun of you, only to be rendered speechless by your mastery. He’s been watching in a state of stupor, forearms propped against the back of your chair.
You don’t respond for a while, too focused on a precarious patch to even blink, let alone partake in conversation.
“I already did,” you finally answer.
“Sorry, what? You played professional Tetris?”
“In middle school. Then I got bored and switched to backgammon.” You pause. “Then I got bored again and switched to chess.”
“How do you look like this with these hobbies?”
Your run ends a few minutes later with a somber sound effect. You turn around in your seat with an anguished groan. “I think I’m washed.”
He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. “You just set a new record by three hundred thousand points.”
“It’s a small pond,” you say, and an idea occurs to you. “Do you wanna try?”
“I get the feeling I don’t have a choice.”
“Then you’re smarter than you look.”
“Well, you look—”
His eyes move between your shoes and your face, and then his voice is an inaudible mutter as he sinks into your seat. You think you hear something along the lines of unfair.
“What was that?”
“Ugly. I said you look ugly.” He cracks his knuckles. “Now let’s break some fuckin' blocks.”
When Hyunjin learns that the pieces can be rotated (so six or seven attempts later), a man walks into the arcade.
He has hair the color of dark chocolate, the face of a fairy prince—and he’s with someone. The two of them appear arm in arm, laughing at something he said. He looks at this person the way astronomers do to the sky.
Something shatters inside you like old porcelain.
Your hands loosen around the back of Hyunjin’s chair. You can’t watch. You can’t think. You can only feel a void of disappointment rip open, stretch over you like an elongating shadow.
“Seung!” That’s Jisung, you think. “You made it!”
“Yo, sorry we’re late.” That’s Seungmin. That is undoubtedly Seungmin. “Dinner took longer than I thought.”
“Min, are you sure I’m allowed to be here?” You don’t know who this voice belongs to and you’re not sure you want to. “I feel like I’m intruding—”
“Hwang,” you say suddenly. “I have to go.”
He turns around, confused. An unattended block falls into a terrible spot on the screen behind him. ”Already?”
“I forgot I had an important call to make.” You turn away, training your eyes on the patterned carpet. “Sorry. I’ll see you around.”
You have touched Hyunjin’s hands many times. He’s asked you to tape his fingers every day since the first; he likes the way you cut off his circulation, says it helps him hit harder. But you never hold his hand so much as you examine it, the act stiff and unfeeling, cordoned within the professional pretense of athletic treatment.
Now, Hyunjin catches your hand like a gardener repotting their favorite flower: delicately, careful of leaving its roots intact and petals untouched, but firmly, securely, so the flower continues to stand tall even when it’s been extracted from the soil, not even a speck of dirt slipping through the cracks between their fingers. That is the image you conjure when he slips his between yours, his metal rings cold where his fingertips are warm.
He says your name. There is a pinch of pain in the word, and you know that he knows.
“Do you want to be alone?”
You have never been asked such a thing—you have never asked to be asked such a thing—but, for some reason, the question brings tears to your eyes.
“Yes, please,” you whisper, and you pull your hand away.
When you stalk past him, you hear Jisung notice you, call out to you, a note of worry in his question. You also count three pairs of eyes on your back: one concerned, the next confused, and the last you are wholly incapable of meeting.
Unknown to you is the fourth pair fixed upon the top of the Tetris machine, where you’ve left your phone.
You emerge into the parking lot. The frigid air stills your mind for a fraction of a second, the last moment of mental quietude you will allow yourself that night.
Hyunjin’s right; the team manager doesn’t have to do much.
Coach Bang allows you to come to whichever practices and games you feel like, during which you might at most lug around a ballbag or fill someone’s waterbottle before holing up somewhere to do your own thing. But you like the people you work for too much to do so little for them, so you attend everything your schedule allows.
Last week, you could be found helping Minho put up the volleyball nets before practice, your laughter echoing throughout the spacious gym as he complained to you about his biochemistry professor’s distinct “cabbage scent.” Or running to grab materials for Changbin as he treated his teammates’ injuries like you were assisting an orthodontist giving someone a root canal. The dinner invitations you extended to Seungmin were always turned down, but his teammates were more than happy to assist you and Hyunjin in your quest to establish the best kimbap joint in the area once and for all. You even had a heart-to-heart with Coach Bang during one of the team’s water breaks, in which you managed to get half a smile out of the guy; Hyunjin was convinced that was his way of asking you to elope. You spent more time in the gymnasium those ten days than you had your entire college career.
Then came the arcade.
Five days have come and gone. You haven’t attended practice since, but you still see Hyunjin every morning at anthropology. The two of you sit in uncharacteristic silence for most of the lectures. You’ve taken the best notes of your life. He doesn’t mention the previous weekend; he doesn’t mention much of anything.
In person, that is.
That Friday afternoon, you’re reading on the terrace of the library when you receive a text. It’s from Hyunjin, a two-minute voice note. You hesitate for a moment, stick a pencil into the gutter of your textbook to save your place, and slip your earbuds in. You listen to it.
Then you listen to it again.
And again as you wrap up your study session and go home. Again as you cook yourself dinner and load the dishwasher. Again as you shrug on a jacket and pocket your keys, setting off on the familiar trek to the gym.
As for what you plan to do there on a Friday night, long after the team has finished practice, you haven’t the slightest clue. You continue to move regardless, fueled by the feeling that there is where you need to be.
Coach Bang is leaving the building just as you’re approaching it. He halts in his footsteps and raises his eyebrows when he notices you. The man has always been difficult to read, but his face is exceptionally opaque now. Maybe it’s the shadowy landscape; more likely it’s the uneasiness that began to mount within you once you noticed the lights in the gym were still on.
“It’s been a while,” he greets.
“Coach,” you return, lowering your head. “I want to apologize for—”
“Save it,” he says, not unkindly. “There’s nothing to apologize for, alright? The team is lucky to have you.”
You manage a grateful smile. “I’ll be back starting next week.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He starts to walk away, stops himself, and glances into the illuminated building. “I would give him some space, by the way.”
Your uneasiness morphs into anxiety as you watch his broad back retreat into the shadows. You remain outside the gym for a few minutes more, accompanied by the distant melodies of cricket chorales and the muffled squeaking of shoes against laminated hardwood, the harsh sounds of flesh meeting leather.
Briskly, you walk home, rummage around, and return to the gym ten minutes later with your textbook tucked beneath your arm. This time, you unlock and enter the building without a moment of hesitation.
Hyunjin is positioned multiple yards behind the service line, rotating a volleyball in his hands. A high toss, two resounding steps, and a collision like the crack of a whip. The previous ball has barely landed in the furthest corner of the court when he’s picking up the next, retreating to the same spot to do it all again. His tank top is the color of charcoal over his sweaty skin, his hair auburn where it’s plastered to his neck. He’s alone.
You only catch sight of Hyunjin’s face when you descend the stairs. His expression is crystalline, hardened with concentration and fortified by courage, but fragile all at once, rendered delicate by fatigue and fear, spilling from his every seam and splintering off his person like a broken vase. You recognize it as clearly as if you were looking at a picture of yourself from the worst years of your life.
“I was told to give you space,” you call out, and Hyunjin drops the volleyball he’s holding.
His lips fall apart. Nothing comes out of them. The only sounds to follow are your footsteps as you make your way towards the bleachers, a vertical wall of plastic now that they’ve been retracted for the night. You fold your legs into a criss-cross as you take a seat at their base.
“Is this enough space?”
More silence. You gesture to the volleyball nervously.
“Don’t make me go further, please. I’m not ready to die.”
Finally, this earns you a smile. It’s not much, but it loosens the nervous coils in your heart, permits your lungs to contract once more, and it remains on his face as he swipes the ball back into his hands. You open your textbook.
The rest of the night elapses in turning pages and soaring volleyballs. You don’t care for minutes or hours; you give him all the time in the world, as he did you.
The only time you glance at the clock on the wall is around midnight, when Hyunjin hobbles to the middle of the court and collapses. You’re worried at first. Then he rolls onto his back and releases a guttural groan into his hands, and your held breath comes out a laugh. You set down your book and stand up.
There’s a lake of perspiration forming around him. You pay it no mind and flop onto the floor, your eyes instantly narrowing beneath the fluorescent lights.
“How do you see under these things?”
“I don’t,” he returns. “I complained about it to Coach once.”
“And?”
“He made them brighter.” Sounds about right.
Hyunjin spends the next few minutes catching his breath, his chest rising and falling in your peripheral vision. You sift through your mind for phrases of consolation or gestures of support and come up empty. You wish you had Hyunjin’s way with words.
But you think about the way his smile reached his eyes as he thanked you for caring about him, the tenderness with which he caught your hand at the arcade, the I give a fuck about you he blurted before ending the study call. You think about the voice note. It’s not that Hyunjin has a way with words; it’s that he’s brave enough to break the silences that you can’t, like he perceives your anxiety for the aftermath, shouldering the responsibility so you won’t have to.
This cannot be his burden alone.
You inhale. “What’s on your mind?”
Hyunjin doesn’t answer right away. You give up on squinting and close your eyes. The lights are still bright enough to dance around the murky darkness.
“I don’t think I know how to put it into words.”
You nearly laugh; you know how that feels. “Don’t think, just talk. I’m here.”
The same advice you gave yourself seems to work on him as well.
“Do you remember Ishikawa Yuki?”
His role model.
“He’s currently playing for a club team in Italy called Allianz Milano.” He blows out a deep breath. “I’ve been talking to their coach, Roberto Piazza, for the last six months.”
The gears in your head creak in their effort to process the implications of these words. “Holy shit, Hwang.”
“He emailed again, this morning. Said he was coming to the tournament later this month, he’s excited to see me play in person, whatever. And it hit me, finally, that this is all real. Like, this is actually happening to me. I spent all of today freaking out and asked Coach to let me stay back after practice. Usually, it wears out my brain if I tire my body, but it only half-worked today. I couldn’t wrap my head around anything. I still can’t.
“I am who I am because of that man, and now…I have a shot at playing with him. I keep asking myself why I’m not—not happier. I should be bouncing off the fucking walls, no? If I told my past self that this would be happening to him one day, he—he would—”
You open your eyes, confused by the sudden silence.
Hyunjin is sitting up next to you, staring intensely into the bleachers. You first notice the tip of his tongue prodding into his cheek, then his shuddering breath. He lifts a hand to his face, pressing against his eyes.
You stop thinking after that.
You sit up with him. When you settle your fingers around his wrist, he allows you to pull his hand back to his side. But he turns away as if trying to hide from you; he squeezes his eyes shut as if that would obstruct your view of his pain.
You reach to cradle his face, bringing him back to you. The cuff of your sleeves wipe at the saltwater on his cheeks, push the hair off his forehead with gentle sweeps. The two of you are close, close enough that your lips would meet the space between his eyes if you so much as lost your balance. His gaze traverses to your face, but you resolve not to meet it. You know you will traipse into uncharted territory the moment you do.
“Don’t fight it.” You trace over the hill of his cheek. “Healing becomes easier if you let yourself hurt. Trust me, Hyunjin.”
His first name should feel foreign on your tongue, yet you suspect the syllables have accompanied you all your life.
“You don’t have to continue if you can’t.”
“S’okay.” Hyunjin lifts your hand away from his face, presses a kiss to the base of your palm. “I want to.”
You feel yourself stumble ungracefully into the uncharted territory from before; does he do the same?
“I used to play volleyball on this expanse of cracked blacktop, behind my primary school. It was pretty brutal on my feet—I blew through so many different pairs of sneakers my mom almost made me quit.” He smiles at the memory. “But every time I came close to quitting, I’d go home and rewatch the same USA vs. Poland match from the 2008 Summer Olympics I asked my dad to record, and I’d promise myself it would be me on some other kid’s screen someday.
“That kid would tell everyone who’d listen about how cool I am. That I’m a secret superhero. That I’m living proof humans can fly if they really, really try—just like I talked about the volleyball players I grew up watching on my TV.
“The other day, Coach told me that hope would consume me. I thought it was just some senile drivel at the time, but..I think I get what he means now. I would do anything and everything to make that kid proud—even if it meant losing myself.” He lowers his head, auburn strands falling into his eyes. “That’s what’s on my mind.”
Amidst the ensuing pause, a storm approaches. It does not come in the form of rain or snow, sleet or hail, no; it is a gathering of words unsaid and emotions unacknowledged, all emerging from the deepest chambers of your heart in synchrony. The same entities you used to scapegoat for all the times things were awkward between you and Hyunjin when you were the culprit all along. You and your blind cowardice.
The storm tears open the seam of your lips. You do not resist; it’s long overdue.
“Every time Changbin sees you, he turns into a smitten schoolgirl,” you say. “He is physically unable to contain how endearing he finds you. He told me so himself.”
Hyunjin looks at you with widened eyes. You think you can see your own reflection in them, and you are the spitting image of a lighter dropped into gasoline, unstoppable in your vehemence.
“Jeongin comes to you for advice before anyone else,” you continue, “even for things related to school—which I still find hard to believe, I’m not gonna lie. But you have his best interests in mind, and it shows in everything you do for him. Of course your opinion matters more than anything in the world.
“I know you think he can’t stand you, but you are the reason Coach Bang loves this job, why he loves this sport. It’s written all over his face every time he calls you something mean, every time he makes you run another lap, every time he looks at you. You’re like a son to him. Everyone sees it but you.”
“Then there’s me.” You pause to catch your breath. “When I think about what my life used to be, I remember a lot of things. I remember loneliness. Insecurity. I remember my books and my backgammon boards and the way I taught myself to disappear inside them so the world would never find me. I remember avoiding mirrors like a vampire because I didn’t like seeing my own reflection. I remember feeling like I had to put on someone else’s personality every time I left the house because nobody would want to know me for me. All I ever wanted was a place where I could be myself, love myself, without consequence. I have yet to find that place.
“But I found a person. Someone who wouldn’t know time and place if they kicked his dick into his body. Someone who thinks instant ramen is high in nutritional value because it comes with dried vegetables. Someone who sweats the same amount of rain the Sahara Desert receives yearly—your body is not normal, by the way.”
Hyunjin giggles; it is soft and short, a small, tearful huff into the quiet air that makes you feel like you’re flying.
“Don’t get me wrong,” you say. “Your sense of humor sucks and your taste in coffee is so boring and you are the one with no media literacy, not Professor Kim. But I love spending time with you. I love who I am when I’m around you. And none of that has to do with volleyball.”
The next time you blink, you discover that he’s not the only one with tears in his eyes. How long has that been going on?
“There’s so much about you to be proud of, Hyunjin.” You give him a watery smile. “That kid will be spoiled for choice.”
When Hyunjin pulls you into his arms, you fall into each other like going to bed after a long day. Your face burrows into the crook of his neck in your embarrassment; he is laughing and crying at the same time when he mumbles something into your shoulder: “I knew you cared about me.”
You are so happy for the comedic relief you could sob. It helps that you already are.
“How the fuck are you still sweaty?” You choke out, and you think you like his cologne after all.
Six days later, Hyunjin opens the door of his apartment.
A fun-sized flurry of black and white barrages into the hallway outside and almost runs headfirst into the figure waiting there. You fall to your knees like you’ve just been gravely wounded, emitting an ear-piercing wail to match. All it takes is a few good head scratches for Kkami to stop yipping bloody murder and start whining for attention instead.
Upon minute five of watching you and his dog cuddle in the hallway directly outside his home, Hyunjin sighs.
“Can you come inside, please? My RA will think I’m doing some freaky shit again.”
You side-eye him as you walk into his apartment, Kkami perched happily in your arms. “What, exactly, does freaky shit entail?”
He smirks as the door falls shut. “You want me to tell you or show you?”
You turn to Kkami, disgusted. “Your owner’s a bit of a pervert, my dear.”
Kkami licks you on the chin. Hyunjin’s eyes narrow to slits.
“Traitor.”
Naturally, Hyunjin’s parents chose the eve of his final anthropology exam—and the week before the tournament that will determine the trajectory of his career—to ask him to look after Kkami for a few days. He nearly canceled their plane tickets himself, but his impromptu roommate is currently ransacking your face with kisses on his couch, and he thinks your laugh complements his studio better than any decoration.
“Do you want anything to drink?” He calls from the kitchen area.
You meander over, Kkami (still) perched happily in your arms. “What do you have?”
“Alcohol.” He opens his fridge far enough so you can peer over his shoulder. “Americanos.”
He stops speaking.
“Is that all?”
“Yes. Wait—and apple juice.”
“You are about to be a professional athlete.”
“What the Italians don’t know won’t hurt them. You want apple juice, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”
“Maybe. Can you open it for me? My hands are full.”
Hyunjin does so with far less reluctance than he feigns. You thank him jubilantly, popping the straw into your mouth.
“Let’s get this over with.”
At 10:32 P.M., all is calm. You are sitting on the floor, your back against the side of his mattress. Hyunjin is where the universe intended: curled up in bed, both him and his laptop lying on their sides. You have studied eight out of ten units in only two and a half hours, and the night is still young. Kkami is but a fluffy, sleepy Oreo by your waist.
At 10:33 P.M., the Oreo begins to retch.
You startle a foot into the air. Hyunjin is out of bed and on his feet in the blink of an eye, the very image of a dog dad on duty. He grabs three different things off the kitchen counter with one hand and scoops up the long-haired chihuahua with the other, and then he’s kicking open the door.
Seungmin appears out of thin air carrying two heaping bags of groceries. Hyunjin nearly knocks him and a month’s worth of fresh produce down four flights of stairs.
“Hyun—Kkami?” Seungmin swivels. “Yo, what the fuck is—”
Hyunjin is already out the door.
A few minutes later, Hyunjin squats off to the side, pouring fresh water into a portable dog bowl. A little ways away, Kkami is throwing up ebulliently; a set of footsteps approaches.
“What is this thing?” Seungmin squats down next to Hyunjin, picking up the piece of patterned fabric lying on the grass.
“Kkami gets sad after throwing up,” he sighs. “His blanket makes him feel better.”
Seungmin watches the chihuahua for a few moments, a soft flinch crimping his features. “He ate too fast again?”
Hyunjin rakes a hand through his hair. “I don’t get it. Nobody’s gonna take his food from him.”
Seungmin laughs. “I didn’t even know he was on campus.”
“I picked him up last night. My parents are traveling for work—they say hi, by the way.”
“I say hi back. I miss your mom’s cooking.”
“Me too,” Hyunjin says, smiling. “She would love to cook for you again—she’s always saying you’re too skinny.”
“She really is.”
A beat passes; it is then that Hyunjin has an epiphany.
Seungmin was the one who put a volleyball in his hands for the first time. Back then, Hyunjin was the lesser troublemaker between the two of them—a concept that neither of them can wrap their heads around to this day. Seungmin suggested they use the clotheslines in Hyunjin’s backyard as a makeshift net, despite Hyunjin’s dissuading; half of Hyunjin’s father’s wardrobe caught on fire, Seungmin had a black eye for a week, and nobody knows what happened to that volleyball. The two of them have been attached at the hip ever since.
It is a crazy thing, having your best friend as a teammate; a singular flick of the wrist or a point of his shoe and Seungmin will know exactly Hyunjin wants the ball down to the net’s fraying fibers; Hyunjin will be exactly where Seungmin needs him down to the flecks of paint on the volleyball court. Hyunjin has always been Seungmin’s hitter—Seungmin, always Hyunjin’s setter. Nothing will ever change between them so long as that remains the case.
At least, that’s what Hyunjin used to think.
Learning that Seungmin was in a relationship was as much a wake-up call for Hyunjin as it was for you. At first, he was just fucking pissed; how could Seungmin be so stupid as to turn down someone like you, especially when Hyunjin had shot his mouth off about his wingman services? More importantly, how long had his best friend of eighteen years been in love, and why was he the last to know?
Only now, as they wait for his nine-year-old chihuahua to finish barfing, does Hyunjin realize that he can’t remember the last time he and Seungmin talked. Not “talked” as in a brief exchange inside the locker room or the lecture hall, about a new approach he wants to try or what Seungmin got on number four or if he wants a ride to practice—“talked” as in talked, about Hyunjin, about Seungmin, about the eighteen years they shared, about all the years yet to come.
Hyunjin sees his setter every day; he stopped looking for his friend a long time ago.
“Yeonwoo, right?”
He senses surprise in Seungmin without having to look at him. But he also senses a smile, a subtle show that Seungmin recognizes what he’s trying to do—and forgives him.
“Yeonwoo,” Seungmin affirms. “We’re in the same songwriting intensive this semester.”
“Also a singer?”
He shakes his head. “Piano player. Performed at the Carnegie Hall in the United States at, like, seven years old. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so talented.”
“Wow, that’s—hi, old man. You done?”
Kkami walks over with his head hung low and tail between his legs, and Hyunjin hurries to drape the pup in his favorite blanket, pulling the bowl of water in front of him in tandem. Seungmin runs a hand over the top of Kkami’s head as he hydrates.
“You’ve suffered,” he tells him solemnly, and Hyunjin snorts.
“As I was saying—that’s crazy to hear, coming from the most talented person I know. You guys looked so good together.”
“Thanks. It’s weird. I’m happy.”
“You deserve it. You really do, Kim.” They exchange smiles, and Hyunjin gives Seungmin a playful nudge. “When are you introducing us?”
“The arcade wasn’t enough?”
“Don’t insult me.”
“Whenever you want, then.”
“Dinner with my mom, dinner with Yeonwoo,” Hyunjin recounts. “I’m holding you to it.”
“Bet.”
They shake on it. If Hyunjin wasn’t already reassured by Seungmin’s smile, he knows by his clasp around his hand that they’ll be okay.
“What about you?” Seungmin asks. “Are you together yet?”
Hyunjin knew this was coming. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.” Seungmin strings his hands together, letting them dangle in the space between his knees. “Someone you have questions for that you’re too scared to ask. Someone who’s lived in your mind since the day you met. There’s someone like that, isn’t there?”
Hyunjin pokes his tongue into his cheek.
Ever since that night on the gym floor, Hyunjin’s been having these dreams. By the time his alarm goes off in the morning, every detail of the dream has eluded him, leaving behind only a ghost of emotion, akin to the breeze that grazes your face moments after walking past another person.
But then he’ll get out of bed, and walk to that café on the east side of campus, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There, he’ll order a vanilla latte with extra sweetener, then turn around to see you standing five feet away, holding an Americano and trying not to laugh. And he’ll just know, with everything in him, that you are where his head goes when he’s not keeping watch.
He still addresses you by the pet names you hate. He still finds any excuse to be close to you; he still pesters you like a child with a crush. But now, he calls you his baby like one wishes on a star; his eyes drift to your lips every time you’re within two feet of each other; he makes fun of your likes and dislikes only because he’s happy to know about them at all. Ever since that night on the gym floor.
It’s impossible for nothing and everything to change at once. Two people teetering on the precipice of something cannot withstand a gust of wind so powerful. He’s already hanging off the ledge, losing his grip; where are you?
Next to him, Seungmin lets out a soft laugh. “There is.”
Hyunjin doesn’t know what to say.
“It might’ve been me, at some point,” he hums, returning his hand to scratch the back of Kkami’s ears. “But it has always been you, Hyun.”
Four floors above them and inside Hyunjin’s place, you are pacing between his fridge and his bed, nervously awaiting his and Kkami’s return.
Something catches your eye, wide and flat and hung on the wall by his bathroom door. You approach it curiously, your lips pulling into a fond smile the moment you realize all that’s in front of you.
Many of the photographs are of Hyunjin: him in his preteens, dead asleep in bed while dressed head to toe in volleyball gear, braces visible because his mouth is open; an action shot taken at what must’ve been a U21 match, the South Korean flag stitched into the shoulder of his jersey; him with half a birthday cake in front of him and the rest smeared all over his face. There are headlines, too: Underdog team earns district’s first high school volleyball state title; Hwang Hyunjin proves himself worthy of “ace spiker” label at South Korea V. Croatia U19 match; Coach Bang “Christopher” Chan leads Seoul National University to second consecutive KUL championship. There’s one—Who is Hwang Hyunjin? Meet the twenty-year-old instigant of South Korea’s imminent volleyball revolution—beside which he’s written the singular word “mouthful.” You laugh; you agree.
But pinned to the corkboard is also a photograph of Minho, surrounded by stray cats in the alleyway outside a K-BBQ restaurant; his parents cradling Kkami in an apple costume; his high school volleyball team silhouetted against a pretty sunset. Him and Seungmin as kids, covered in grime and scrapes but beaming nonetheless; him and Seungmin at age nineteen, stadium lights on their backs, unadulterated elation on their faces as they charge towards each other, beaming still. Changbin piggybacking Felix through the hallways of the gym, neither of them wearing a shirt; Jisung offering Coach Bang a beer while the latter looks direly unamused (you make a mental note to ask about that one later); what looks like a Rock Lee cosplayer grimacing in the middle of your anthropology classroom.
You rush forward as if decreed by gravitational force. Not too far away is another picture of you, in which you boast a Miffy headband and a face full of foaming cleanser. Then another, your eyes narrowed like that of a sniper taking aim as you’re playing Tetris; you with so many volleyballs piled into your arms that you can’t see your own face; your cheeks squished by a bandaged hand after you lost a bet about pandas (they can swim); you clutching your stomach on the library floor, brought to hysterical tears by Professor Kim’s email. You, you, you.
You bring your pointer finger to this last image, tracing it over the curve of your own cheek. You see a dimple on your face you didn’t know you had. You realize it only comes out for him.
It has always been him.
The front door opens. A man with telephone poles for legs and a long-haired chihuahua in his arms appears behind it. You sense in him that something has changed since you last saw each other. The two of you lock eyes.
It’s not awkward this time.
Multiple yards behind the service line, Hyunjin is rotating a volleyball in his hands. It feels solid and sentient, an extension of himself held in cotton-clad fingers. He knows how this story will end.
He moves his eyes to his best friend’s back. Four fingers flash back at him twice, signaling a high lob set to the left, the very play they’ve practiced tirelessly for the last five weeks. The breath Hyunjin blows out of his cheeks seems to crystallize in the air, almost solid in all its exhilaration.
He bends low and throws high. His arms drop behind his body like a spread of feathered wings; his feet fall into place below him like a meteor shower, two consecutive strikes against the earth that fissure its mantle. The lights overhead are bright. His palm pulls taut when it slams into leather. He knows how this story will end.
The volleyball tears towards the ground. It trembles as if scared by all that it holds: the guarantee of a flawless denouement, the catalyst of a radiant future. Hyunjin’s heart is beating hard enough to crack his ribs when he lands back on the ground, when the volleyball lands in the furthest corner of the court. He’s not scared at all.
He balls his fingers into fists.
“JUST LIKE LAST YEAR, BACK TO BACK ON AN ACE—”
An arm seizes Hyunjin’s neck; another drags him onto the floor. His head thuds onto the hardwood with a sound he hears over the whole world detonating. His vision fills with the faces of the people he cares for most, some covered in tears and others rivaling the ceiling with their blinding smiles. He can’t feel most of his body; his sweat drips into his mouth. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.
“—DEFENDING THEIR TITLE FOR THE THIRD CONSECUTIVE YEAR—”
His eyes find Seungmin’s among the fray. Their hands clap together with such force that Hyunjin cusses at the impact. Seungmin’s gaze burns into his with a ferocity that Hyunjin plans to take to his grave. His setter. His best friend.
He says something inaudible, but Hyunjin reads the words off his lips, and his eyes fill with tears: we win everything.
“—YOUR NATIONAL CHAMPIONS: SEOUL NATIONAL UNIVERSITY!”
Hyunjin’s post-game interview is a lawless affair. He is allowed at most half an answer before a new teammate is barreling over with an animalistic screech or a new friend is screaming congratulations from out of frame.
The reporter is visibly agitated by her final question, unpursing her lips to ask: “Is there anyone you’d like to thank?”
Hyunjin exhales. “You want the short answer or the long—”
Changbin seizes him by the head. Hyunjin bursts into a peal of high-pitched laughter as the libero litters kisses all over his face, nearly crumpling to the floor in his attempt to escape.
“Love you,” he yells before hurrying off.
“Love you too, Bin.”
Hyunjin turns a sheepish smile to the reporter.
“The short answer,” she deadpans.
He starts counting off his fingers. He thanks his family—his first and last teammates, his eternal anchors. His other family, his actual teammates, the best boys he’s ever known. His coach, who will let him call him Chris someday. His best friend and setter, Kim Seungmin, who set a clothesline on fire once and changed his life forever.
In the distance, a figure emerges from the locker rooms. There’s a navy blue SNU banner draped over your shoulders, two overflowing duffel bags in your hands. Jisung and Jeongin run over to take them from you, and the smile you give them is wide and flushed, a remnant of the elation you shared from afar. The three of you start walking out of the gym.
Hyunjin thanks you.
You didn’t ask for the position, he tells the reporter, but some idiot roped you into it, and they’re all so grateful that you decided to stick around. You know the team better than they know themselves—it’s hard to believe you’ve been with them for five weeks instead of five years.
What are you like? What aren’t you like, is the better question. You’re caring, smart, strong; you see so much goodness in the people around you, all while unaware that it is your warmth that brings it out of them. Flowers only bloom in the sun’s doting radius, and so did he.
You have the sort of soul that incurs the scorn of the stars. They are the only ones to deserve you, they'd argue; you’re wasting your potential among humans when you belong to the sky, and they’d be right.
Hyunjin pokes his tongue into his cheek, suddenly annoyed.
“Why the fuck am I still talking to you?”
“Pardon?” The reporter returns, but Hyunjin is already vaulting over the bleachers, making a mad dash for the exit. She gives her cameraman an affronted glare. He shrugs.
He explodes onto the concrete, looking around in a frantic haze. He finds the blue banner heading toward the team bus and flanked by his teammates with ease.
He calls out to you.
You glance backwards. Your smile is purely effulgent, your laugh but a faint sigh against the area’s busy thrum. His heart is pounding against his ribs like a battering ram again, but he’s used to this feeling by now. Jeongin and Jisung make themselves scarce.
You’re beautiful. God, you’re fucking beautiful. That was the first thought to enter his mind when he spilled an iced Americano on your lap all those months ago and you looked at him like he hailed from another planet. And it is the first thought to enter his mind now, when he runs up to you and cradles your face in his hands, his touch infinitely, impossibly gentle, and you look at him like he’s everything that has ever existed, everything that ever will.
Tendrils of your body spray reach him from here, floral and light like a tropical coastline. He could’ve counted your eyelashes—if he didn’t have something far better to do.
“Tell me now if you don’t want me to do this,” he whispers.
A stupid smile crosses the face of the smartest person he knows. “My lips are sealed.”
Hyunjin kisses you. He kisses you until the banner around your shoulders is wrinkled under his touch, until your hands are tangled in his hair and aching his scalp, until the breaths you take are breaths you share, passed between your mouths like a puff of smoke before they’re colliding again.
He kisses you until he’s crying, again, until he’s no longer tasting your lips but your grin, and he kisses you only harder when those scornful stars start to dance before him, for you are his, not theirs, and he’s really won everything, now.
“Hwang, I need you in my office.”
Six months later, Hyunjin sees Coach Bang standing a few yards away with a grim air about him. He stops in his footsteps and glances at his captain, confused.
“I know nothing,” Seungmin says, walking away. “Good luck!”
“Thanks, cap.” Hyunjin swears he’s had this exact exchange before.
Head volleyball coach Christopher Bang’s workspace still reminds Hyunjin of a morgue. But there are two picture frames on his desk now: one of his family in front of the Sydney Opera House, the other of a band of boys clad in navy blue, draped over one another in exhausted bliss. The latter lends the room a much-needed sense of vitality. Too bad it still houses a rusty cyborg.
Hyunjin closes the door and takes a seat. Bang taps a knuckle against the tempered glass of his monitor. “Read.”
From: Nicola Daldello «[email protected]»
To: Bang “Christopher” Chan «[email protected]»
Subject: Re: Allianz Milano V. Pallavolo Perugia practice game
Christopher,
Allow me to apologize for my delayed response as I shared your request with Chairman Piazza.
It is my great pleasure to inform you that we would love for Mr. Hwang Hyunjin to participate in our practice game versus Pallavolo Perugia. The match is scheduled for Monday, October 7th, 5-7 P.M. CET in the Giurati Sports Centre in Milan. Mr. Hwang will be playing for Allianz Milano as an outside hitter alongside Mr. Matey Kaziyski, Mr. Osniel Mergarejo, and Mr. Ishikawa Yuki.
Please let me know of your availability to call regarding Mr. Hwang’s travel logistics. His transportation and lodging costs will be paid for by the club.
I’m looking forward to speaking with you and welcoming Mr. Hwang to Italy once and for all.
Yours,
Nicola Daldello
Assistant Coach, Allianz Milano
“I told you, some opportunities just present themselves,” Bang says, turning his monitor back around. “As for next steps, I need a holistic calendar view of your entire month of October, including social ev—Hwang, is that foam coming out of your mo—NOT ON MY CARPET! HWANG!”
In a park about a ten minute walk away, a small crowd of elderly people are scattered across a few stone tables, hunched over the fading chess boards painted into the granite surfaces. Mrs. Choi whisks away Mrs. Baek’s king with a triumphant yelp.
“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! That opening is unbeatable!” She swivels towards you, shaking a fist threateningly. “You! Get over here. Your reign is over.”
You are sitting cross-legged in the shade of a broad magnolia tree, clearing out your storage. You tried to take a picture of a particularly rotund pigeon to send to Hyunjin earlier and couldn’t even do that. It was then you decided you couldn't live like this anymore.
“As excited as I am to beat you again, Mrs. Choi, I need ten more minutes,” you call back.
She presents you with an unpleasant hand gesture. You turn your attention back to your phone, grinning. Two new notifications sit at the top of your lock screen.
Hyunjin:
Omw now. Sorry had to talk to Chris
Hyunjin:
Same park?
Y/N:
yes
Hyunjin:
Who’s our opponent today
Y/N:
mrs. choi
Hyunjin:
Not that bitch again
Y/N:
?
He’ll be here in eight minutes.
You return to the task at hand. You’ve already cleared out your apps, your documents, and videos; all that’s left is the audio files. You conduct a quick mental review. Surely you’ll live without your downloaded music and accidental voice memos.
Instead of hitting the “delete” button, you extract a pair of tangled earphones from your jacket pocket.
You go back to your texts with Hyunjin, open the shared attachments tab, and scroll for a long time before you find the voice note he sent you seven months ago.
He finds you a sobbing mess.
“Hey, hey, whoa.” He’s on his knees in an instant, gathering your hands into his, a world of concern in the brown of his eyes. Your earbuds fall out and clatter onto the cement below. “Baby, what’s happening? Are you okay?”
“Yes,” you say in a flustered haste. “Yes, I’m okay. I don’t—I don’t really know what’s happening.”
“Did that hag do this to you?” He asks this question so seriously. “I’ll beat up a senior citizen, I don’t give a fuck—”
“No!” You let out an ugly laugh through your tears. “No, no. Leave Mrs. Choi alone.”
“Then what is it? What’s wrong?”
Eventually, your vision clears enough for you to look at the man kneeling in front of you. His roots grow out longer every day, his hair by now nearly equal parts gold and black. A spot of sunlight infiltrates the magnolia leaves and lands on his left eye, turning it the hue of melted bronze.
Your fingers drift to the sides of his beautiful face as you lean in close; he smells like a combination of smoky rose and tropical coastlines.
“I’ll tell you later,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his hairline.
He is dissatisfied with this, hooking a pointer finger beneath your chin, guiding your face back to his. He laves the saltwater from your lips, your tongue, and then you’re smiling again, barely able to remember why you cried in the first place.
You rest your foreheads together. “Have I told you that you look like a bumblebee these days?”
He smiles. “Does that make you my flower, then?”
“Because you’re irresistably drawn to me?”
“No, because I wanna put my pollen in—”
You shove him away. “You are grotesque.”
He returns in a flash. “You love me.”
You kiss him again. And again. And one more time for good measure, during which you mumble I do against his lips, and then you remember something.
“Why did Coach hold you back, by the way?” You pull away, tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “Are you in trouble again?”
“No, no. The opposite, actually.”
Your brow furrows. “The opposite? What—”
“In this lifetime, please,” Mrs. Choi hollers from the chess tables. You roll your eyes. Hyunjin smiles helplessly.
“Duty calls, my love.”
“Tell me your thing later too?”
“Of course.”
You dust yourself off and stand up, making your way to the battleground. But not before you whisper to Hyunjin, “now watch me beat up a senior citizen.”
He laughs with his whole body, his eyes the shape of crescent moons, his mouth a little rectangle.
“Hypocrite.”
Hyunjin:
[1 Audio Message]
This is my seventh take and I’m not recording an eighth. What you get is what you get. I don’t care anymore.
I understand if you don’t wanna talk about what happened at the arcade. I wouldn’t, either. I just wanted to say that you don’t have to do this tutoring thing anymore. I won’t be able to fulfill my end of our deal, so…yeah, it wouldn’t be fair to you. You’ve already done so much for us. For me.
As for team manager, you’ll have to talk to Minho and Coach Bang if you wanna quit. Doesn’t sound like a fun conversation, I know—but if that’s what you decide, I’ll have your back. They don’t scare me. Well, they do. Sometimes.
You’ve been…distant, this week. I’ve known peace and quiet for the first time since we met, and I fucking hate it. I realized I couldn’t care less if you’re my tutor or my team manager or whatever—I just don’t want you to be a stranger. Maybe that’s selfish of me to say, but I’m tired of pretending the idea of losing you doesn’t terrify me. It does. It truly fucking does.
I’m gonna end this here, because I almost just stopped recording on accident and I would’ve committed first degree murder if I had to do this all over again. Sorry that this got so long, and…I’m sorry about everything. You deserve better.
Come back to me whenever you’re ready, okay? I’ll be waiting.
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