#purpose-driven man

[unstoppablemidlife]

You’re Not Just Building a Body or a Business. You're Building a Legacy

By Jeff Javorsky | Founder, Unstoppable Midlife The Real Reason You Wake Up Early It’s not just about muscle or money. It’s not about reps or ROI. It’s about legacy—the kind your son sees when he watches how you lead. The kind your wife feels when your presence commands peace. The kind God is building through your obedience when no one else is watching. Because when a man rebuilds himself,…

[everyryuujisuguro]

[thepersonalwords]

The greatest purpose in life, the greatest achievement one could ever have in life, the greatest satisfaction one could ever get in life can only be found in the service of others.

Omoakhuana Anthonia

[trek-tracks]

Is this anything

[lokissweater]

talk baby ⋆｡°✩

{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}

summary: it’s the season of the world series!— your little life with megumi absolutely warm and loving as you spent every waking moment together, the both of you never failing to hang out or speak to one another since the very moment you two made it official. but when the higher ups start demanding more of megumi to bring the world series home, tiring him out and causing him to lose sleep? a wedge is driven between you both as megumi tells you words he wished he’d never said.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, cursing, FLUFF, ANGSTYY, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it yall), SMUT, baseball talk, megumi LOOVESS YOUU my goodness, DONINANT AF MEGUMI OBVIOUSLYYY, creampie, shower sex, DIRTY TALK megumi has a filthy mouth, megumi and reader get into a fight, it’s the world series, all characters are aged up.

word count: 12.5k (IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY-)

authors note: THE WAIT IS FINALLY OVERRR FUCK i cannot thank you all enough for the support with these series. i saw all of your AMAZING suggestions and sprinkled them all over THANK YOU!! i POURED my heart into this and i really hope you all love itttttt :,( STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT FIC OF THIS SERIES AAHHH!! I LOVE YOU MWAHHH <33

i highly highly advise you to read the first part of this fic or else you won’t be able to understand some of the storyline and references :( you can find it here!

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megumi fushiguro loved how much you talked.

“—and then i went to the bakery down the street from my campus to get that one coffee cake i always get? the one you brought me after my class?”

“mhm.”

“but they were freaking out of it it’s like they knew i was coming to take their stock man. it was seven in the morning how the fuck are you out of coffee cake?”

megumi laughed softly and pressed a slow sweet kiss to your cheek, readjusting his arms around your waist as he scooched your body closer to his on his lap, the both of you on his huge black bean bag that sat in his living room as he leaned the side of his head back on your shoulder, relaxed and a little sleepy.

“so then i had to go to the one on campus, even though i already know it doesn’t taste the same…” you sighed sadly. “what if they did that on purpose? what if they want me to stop coming?”

megumi huffed an amused breath through his nose and shook his head gently against your shoulder. “don’t think so baby. i feel like you keep them in business with how much you go.”

you huffed and crossed your arms, grumbling. “yet they treat me like this...”

tilting your head down then to get a better look at him, you peeked at his sleepy face and tired eyes as he tried his absolute hardest to stay awake for you, wanting to listen to everything you had to say and more, but his eyelids drooping every couple of seconds before opening back up again just not letting him.

you smiled softly and carded your fingers through his black hair, pushing the front strands back and giving him a cute peck on his forehead.

“take a nap gumi… you’re so tired i can see it.”

“uh uh.” megumi hummed.

he lifted his head groggily and propped his chin up on your shoulder, eyes closed.

“keep going.” he murmured, his words a little slurred. “did you end up getting your coffee cake from the other bakery..?”

“i did.” you responded softly, caressing your thumb over his warm cheek as your soothing voice lulled him. “it was nasty. the end. c’mon baby you have practice tomorrow—”

“no.”

“gumi it’s late i don’t want to keep you uuupp.” you whined, nudging him.

“if you sleep over.” he mumbled.

“but i have class tomorrow.”

“i’ll take you.”

“but you always do and i feel bad…” you pinched his cheek softly. “it’s okay i can—”

“don’t care.”

you giggled. “well i do. i want you to get more sleep gumi, your practices are crazy long now and you have them like everyday—”

he groaned loudly and ushered you up, you complying as you watched him lazily stand from the bean bag and grab you, baggy eyes half lidded as he picked you up from around your legs and threw you over his shoulder— something he always did ever since the day he confessed, and something you absolutely floored over whenever he did it.

your giggles rang through his quiet and spacious apartment that made him sleepily smile as he lazily carried you down the hall and to his room, setting you softly to sit on his plush bed as he pressed a sleepy kiss to the top of your head, though nearly almost missing, him leaning back up and grabbing the hem of his black shirt— pulling it over his head and carelessly tossing it somewhere in the room before climbing into bed.

you felt so so bad. the team’s schedule was released just two weeks prior, and seeing as the world series was coming up— the most important segment of competitive games they could possibly ever have, the coaches and managers were grinding and overworking their players to pure fucking filth, them wanting to keep their streak as the number one baseball team no matter what it took.

and because of that, megumi was always so tired and stressed— holding on day by day as the higher ups demanded so much of him because he was the most skilled on the team, him spending his days trying to stay awake and make time for you— picking you up from class and taking you out to lunch like he always did, but your worried gaze always on his dark under eyes as you insisted and told him already that you understood, that he didn’t need to right now if it was over the subject of his career.

and especially if it was for the world series.

“lay down.” he murmured, patting the pillow next to him as he peeked at you with one eye open.

you stood, pulled the covers back and hopped in, megumi’s arm immediately snaking around your waist and pulling your back to his bare chest, his face nuzzling in your hair as you noticed how quickly his breathing deepened, falling asleep almost the minute you got settled in his arms and fitting like a little puzzle piece.

it had been almost an entire year since you and megumi started dating, and you have never ever been happier in your life as you thanked your lucky stars over and over again for being such a dumbass— wholly believing that if one thing had changed, it wouldn’t have played out the way that it did.

and you adored the way that it played out.

megumi was so affectionate. everyday. his love language being physical touch as he literally never left you alone and always had to be touching you in any given situation— like his hand on your thigh whenever he drove, playing with your fingers from across the table while out at a restaurant… and like now, his toned body literally engulfing you into his that it made you feel so cared for and warm and loved, something you always wanted to feel for the rest of your life as long as it was with him.

the next morning he drove you to school like he said he would, and then went straight to practice after, you telling him that you would be there once your classes were over.

and when you did get to the stadium later that day, megumi was mad.

“what the fuck happened?” you quickly sat next to your best friend on the sidelines, her snickering as you both watched megumi tell off another player for fumbling a double play on the field.

“they’re making more errors today,” your girl friend sighed. “they’re all nervous since their division series game is tomorrow and they’re getting closer to the big thing… but megumi is not having it.”

“you bobbled the ball go to first fucking base and eat it what the hell are you doing trying to—”

you gnawed at your bottom lip.

it was common for megumi to bark out orders and take charge on the field, that wasn’t out of the ordinary, but it was only here and there where he was yelling and insulting the rest of his teammates like that (mostly rarely). a sign you knew was because he was stressing the fuck out.

“what you just did was a kiddie fucking error we won’t make it to the world series like this dingus the fuck are you—”

you covered your face and groaned. “i can’t watch… i don’t think i’ve seen him like this since that one day he asked me to come here.”

“you mean the day he ate you out in—”

“shuuushhh!” your hands shot out and slapped over her mouth as she let out a muffled laugh, your eyes wide and cheeks pink as you frantically looked around to see if anybody had heard her.

she took your wrists then and pulled them away. “have you guys even had sex yet? how many times am i gonna ask you until you say yes—”

you nudged her away. “no! we haven’t yet.”

you didn’t know why you hadn’t— the topic just one that was never brought up by either of you.

but you’ve definitely done other things though.

megumi was like a dog, not knowing the meaning of ‘keep your hands to yourself’ as he was always groping your ass in public out of no where just to hear you squeak in surprise, shoving his hands down your pants and making you cum repeatedly on his fingers when you’re both innocently just watching a movie on his couch, pressing his face into your tits and sucking hickeys whenever you wore a low cut shirt, and bullying his way in between your legs to lick and devour you up whenever he felt like it— all things he did with zero hesitation nor self control.

you weren’t complaining though, definitely not— you were just as freaky.

because every time megumi wore those gray sweatpants after practices that you loved oh so very much, no shirt on with his perfect toned body out only for your eyes— your mouth was on him, licking his chest all the way down to his pelvis, tugging the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers down until all that was left before you was his mlb dick, you taking him into your mouth and sucking the absolute life out of him until he was shaking and breathlessly chanting your pretty name like a prayer—

“break!”

you pulled yourself from your thoughts and stood, your eyes already watching the way megumi walked over from across the field with his head down, chest heaving and his face glistening with sweat against the setting sun, his baseball uniform covered in dirt.

both you and your girl friend walked down the steps and towards the bullpen, you quickly grabbing a clean white hand towel from the gatorade jug rack beforehand and catching up, spotting yuji and megumi already seated inside on a bench.

upon megumi noticing you coming up, he smiled softly, tiredly.

“you guys are sucking today.” your best friend deadpanned, and you elbowed her.

“no. you guys just look really nervous… is everything okay?”

you took a seat next to megumi and silently offered the clean towel, him gently bringing up your extended wrist and pecking it in gratitude before taking the towel and wiping down his face, your cheeks flushing in response.

yuji sighed deeply and shook his head, scratching the back of his neck. “everyone’s literally losing it. we win every year but each year that comes is extra added pressure to keep that up.”

megumi nodded wordlessly in agreement, his head hung.

“well this is your first bad practice isn’t it?” you softly mentioned.

“yeah… maybe it’s just today and you guys will be okay tomorrow.” your girl friend added, smiling comfortingly at yuji, him giving her the same smile back but with apprehension in his eyes.

“would’ve been fine if it was yesterday.” megumi cut in, voice monotone. “not today. not when it’s the last leg for the world series.”

he leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms with closed eyes, yuji nodding next to him.

you pulled your lips into a thin line, heavy anxiety brewing in your chest at the thought of them possibly losing before even getting into the league championships, something their team has never done before as they’ve always just gone straight through.

in order to get through to the world series, their team has to win the division series and the league championships, then they earn their rightful shining spot of playing in the world series and winning— something megumi has been a part of for almost three years now, and something the team has dominated over for five consecutive years straight.

but what if this year was different?

“how are you feeling?” you gently asked megumi after a bit. “i saw you were a little mad today on the field…”

he slowly pried his eyes open and looked at you, sighing softly through his nose.

“m’fine pretty baby.” he murmured. “they’re just not playing like they should be.”

megumi took his cap off and scratched the side of his head, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “and neither am i to be honest.”

your eyes softened.

“what do you mean?”

“m’just not meeting the standards i set for myself.”

“but you play well in every game gumi..” you mumbled. “don’t overwork yourself please. just keep doing what you’ve been doing… it’s been going great so far, hasn’t it?”

he gave you a little smile and lazily reached up to delicately caress and run the ends of your hair through his fingers. “i need to amp it up though. i need to try harder.”

“try harder when you’re already winning?” you quirked a confused brow.

he nodded.

“what’s the reason behind that?”

megumi gave you a sly smile. “because you’ll be watching me.”

you gawked, shaking your head at him. “gumi, you know anything that you do makes me freak out and it’s embarrassing...” you subconsciously tugged a bit at the sides of his jersey. “the way you tied my shoes for me the other day made me freak out. the way you pumped my gas last week made me freak out. the way you stuck your fingers inside my pu—”

his eyes bulged open as he shot forward and muffled you with a kiss, you kissing him back and laughing cutely once he pulled away.

“nasty mouth…” he mumbled, but the little grin on his face made you giggle as he put his cap back on over his head and nudged it down, trying to conceal his eyes and the blushing of his cheeks— but you catching on anyways.

“how was class?” he asked quietly, readjusting his cap. “did you get your coffee cake after i dropped you off?”

you shook your head. “no because i’d rather die than get the one on campus. they need to close that place down.”

megumi snorted, but his eyebrows pinched momentarily as he took your hand in his and started playing with your fingers. “you should’ve told me. i would’ve drove you to the one you like.”

“no gumi i wasn’t gonna make you do that... i wanted you to sleep in as much as possible.”

“i’ll take you after practice.”

“no! you need to nap after don’t waste time—”

“m’not wasting time.” he replied, but before you could get another word in, his coach called all players back on field.

“i’ll see you after.” he stood and pecked your forehead. “i love you pretty baby.”

you smiled shyly, your cheeks a cute pink.

“i love you too.”

thankfully, megumi didn’t seem as pissed off for the rest of practice, and you hoped it was because of the little chat you had with him in the bullpen prior and that it cheered him up in some way— the team playing a lot better and actually working together this time instead of being at each others throats over feeble mistakes.

and when they were all finally back at the locker rooms packed up and ready to go, you organized his clean uniform for tomorrow and hung his gloves neatly inside his locker, closing it once you were done.

“you don’t have to do that baby.” he murmured, gesturing to his locker as he swung his duffel bag over his shoulder and extended a hand. “organize. i can do that.”

“but i like doing it...” you took his offering hand and interlaced your fingers with his. “it helps you find things quicker.”

you both stepped out, quickly bidding your girl friend and yuji goodbye on the way as you walked down the echoey hallway together.

“—you also don’t have to drive me to school every morning but you do that anyways.”

he smiled. “touché.”

he led you out of the arena and over to the private parking area for players and crew— him opening the passenger side door for you to step inside and shutting it after, throwing his duffel bag to the back once he got in the drivers seat.

and like he always did, megumi buckled you up himself, grabbing the seat belt strap and pulling it over you to click on the other side with a kiss to your cheek— him never letting you do it yourself since the day you two properly met.

“do they sell food at the bakery?” he looked over at you as he pulled out. “they do don’t they.”

“they do!” you nodded sweetly. “but we’re not going.”

“why.”

“because you need to sleep—”

“no.”

“megumi—”

he shot you a glare and you squeaked.

“gumi! i-i meant gumi!”

he fixed his glare and broke out into a small smile instead, laughing lightly as he set his big hand over your thigh and squeezed lovingly.

you giggled softly.

“lunch first and then i’ll sleep.”

“oh my—”

you reached over for the door handle and pulled, brows furrowing once the lock wouldn’t budge after multiple frantic tries.

“you still have child lock on?!”

megumi shielded his mouth to hide his snicker, eyes to the road.

“uh huh.”

“why?!”

he gave you a deadpanned look and pointed to the door. “exhibit a, baby. the car is moving.”

“gumi if you hate me just say that.”

pulling into the bakery’s parking lot, he playfully rolled his eyes at your comment and pinched your cheek gently.

“be quiet.”

the bakery was a cute little place that was a frequent pit stop for the both of you to pick up breakfast on the way to the things you had to do in the mornings— always cozy and warm and filled with little trinkets and postcards of places from around the world, you always gushing when you or megumi would spot a new souvenir on the walls or on the shelves, and him sometimes having to stop you from snatching some for yourself…

“they have a million!” you whispered. “they won’t notice this one. please it’s from greece it’ll look cute on my fridge!”

megumi sipped his lemonade and gave you a half lidded look as you both sat in a booth.

“i don’t know if anyone has ever told you this but.” he gently slid the coffee cake closer to you, silently ushering you to eat. “that’s called stealing.”

“not if they don’t notice.”

megumi gave you an amused smile.

“i’ll take one for you too!”

“for me?”

“yeah!” you put your elbow on the table and propped your chin on your palm, tilting your head with the cutest expression megumi has ever seen in his fucking life.

“i’d do anything for you.”

his cheeks flooded pink, and he swallowed thickly.

megumi would do anything for you.

“i appreciate that pretty baby,” he murmured, tenderly tracing the pad of his index finger mindlessly around the back of your hand.

“great! so can i do it?”

“no.”

“maaannnn!” you slumped over the table and pouted. “you’re no fun.”

he chuckled and took a bite out of his ham and cheese deli, your mannerisms sometimes reminding him of his dad.

he swallowed.

“gojo wants to meet you.”

you froze. “really? he does?”

megumi nodded.

“okay! that’s okay— wait no! wait—” you groaned and leaned against the booth. “i don’t think he’s gonna like me very much…”

“huh?” his eyebrows furrowed. “why do you say that?”

you peered up at him sheepishly. “because i talk too much… i’m not gonna notice and end up telling him my lore, my school gpa, and my social security number.”

megumi laughed, and your heart fluttered at the sight of his crinkling eyes and gorgeous smile, the sound of it making you swoon.

he shook his head and rubbed his sleepy eyelids. “no baby... he’d love you. i know he would.”

“i don’t know gumi…” you sighed, looking down at your lap. “i want to meet him of course! that’s a given… but..”

megumi quirked a brow. “but?”

“i just don’t want to look stupid…” you laughed nervously. “it’s happened before where my friends parents say i’m a blabber mouth and i don’t want to embarrass you—”

his tired eyes narrowed. “blabber mouth? who’s saying you’re a blabber mouth?”

“my— my ex boyfriend in high school…” you cowered a little. “but it’s okay because i was over sharing!—”

“no.” he said firmly, his gaze looking directly into yours. “you’re not a blabbermouth. there’s a difference between being really open and friendly with people right off the bat and being a blabbermouth.”

megumi shook his head in annoyance. how could someone ever say you were a blabbermouth? he had never heard something that was so far from the truth.

you were too sweet for your own good, that was your only fault. you considered everyone you met a close friend of yours and weren’t afraid to tell them whatever came to your precious mind and made them feel welcome— something that megumi adored so much about you… so much, and something that made him borderline violent when people berated you for it.

“they just can’t handle it when someone is actually genuine. like you. and that’s not your fault.”

the shiniest smile grew on your face then, your eyes sparkling and feeling like a million fucking butterflies were fluttering all over your tummy— internally screaming at his words.

“thank you gumi…” you spoke softly. “i’m glad at least you don’t see an issue with it.”

“i don’t.” he shook his head. “i don’t at all.”

he loved it.

the rest of your lunch date was spent with megumi still not letting you steal the greece trinket magnet from the wall, you scolding him for the bags under his eyes, and him buying you two more slices of coffee cake to go no matter how many times you told him it was okay, the both of you gathering your things and going back to his car after a bit for him to drop you off back home.

“i’ll be here in the morning to take you to class.” he said gently, turning the corner and nearing your street.

“what? isn’t the division series game tomorrow?” you asked, taken aback. “gumi no just get as much sleep as you can it’s a big day. i can take myself.”

he looked at you boredly.

“no.”

“guumiii!”

he pulled into your driveway and shifted his gear into park, the corners of his mouth turned upward into a little goofy grin.

“i can take you baby it’s fine,” he pushed gently. “don’t worry.”

“you’ve been stressed though… and tired.”

you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached over, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in as he immediately leaned in and tucked his face into your neck, breathing in your honeyed perfume and letting himself slump into your soft frame.

“please promise me that after the division series, you’ll rest up like crazy before the league championships.” he pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes nearly closing as he sleepily blinked. “okay?”

“league championships? didn’t know we already won.” he murmured.

you giggled. “obviously. you’re my cool baseball man, are you not?”

he tiredly grinned and pressed a sweet sweet kiss to your cheek, him biting down on it after and making you yelp before snickering and pulling away.

“bye gumi,” you quickly grabbed a slice of coffee cake and placed it on his leg. “here eat this on the way home so you don’t fall asleep.”

he chuckled and watched as you grabbed your things, hopped out, and ran across the front of his car, leaning your head in through his open window once you reached him and pressing your soft lips to his, megumi fucking melting at the feeling.

you pulled apart and he pecked you one last time— a series of i love you’s iterated before you backed away and waved excitedly from your front door, him waiting until you were inside to reverse, his engine roaring and his black car shining against the moonlight as he sped down the street.

the next morning you got up around the time that you usually did, showered and did your hair and got ready for class, packed your school bag and made your bed—

but megumi hadn’t texted you. like at all.

he usually sent you a good morning text, followed by him letting you know when he was leaving the house, followed by when he was on his way, and followed by when he was just down the street and pulling up.

except you got nothing.

you figured maybe today was just one of those days where he maybe just simply forgot and was already on his way, but as you stood literally outside of your house, gnawing on your thumb and the time coming painfully close to the start of your morning class as you still got nothing from megumi (even when you had texted him multiple times at this point), you started shitting it.

just as you were about to run inside to get the keys to your car, your phone buzzed as a picture of you and megumi flashed across the screen.

megumi!

“hel—”

“baby!—” he breathed out, frantic. “baby i’m sorry i’m so sorry i’m coming okay im down the street—”

“what happened?” you breathed out worriedly, your heart hammering against your chest.

“i overslept!—” he explained quickly. “i’m late to the team’s call time and— and you’re late to class and i— fuck!”

you heard his horn blare and his tires screech as muffled curses flew from his mouth, you jumping at the noise.

“sorry sorry someone cut me off i’m almost there—”

“no gumi go straight to the stadium you’re late!” you spoke firmly. “i can take myself—”

“no but i wanted to see you before the game—”

“it’s fine we can see each other after the game okay? when you win—” you grabbed your keys from the coffee table by your door and ran out, unlocking your car and getting in. “you’re late baby so fucking late please turn back this isn’t good coach is gonna chew you out—”

“shit! i know i know—”

“go gumi hang up it’s okay!”

“okay.. fuck okay okay—”

you heard rustling on the other line before he spoke again.

“i love you i’m sorry ill see you after!”

and the line went dead.

you slugged through the rest of your classes as the day felt way fucking longer than it normally did, you desperately just wanting to see megumi and know that he was okay, that he wasn’t in trouble with his coach and the management team for being over an hour late to the division series call time, you on the verge of literal tears multiple times over him.

your best friend and you had planned to get ready for the game together and sport your men’s jerseys from the stands— a girl’s night you were agonizingly looking forward to all freaking month, and so so excited that the day was finally here to support and be present for the making of yet another year for the boys’ team.

“and then he hung up. i thought he was gonna get into a wreck man—”

you ran your fingers through your styled hair in your vanity mirror, your best friend readjusting her jersey behind you— ‘itadori’ in big capital letters on the back.

“megumi is the most hard headed mean stubborn man i have ever come across in my life.” she searched around in her makeup bag, pulling out her lip liner and reapplying next to you. “i don’t know how many times you told him to sleep and get some rest. and yuji too! he hasn’t stopped talking about him since the schedule change and now i’m starting to think he’s in love with him.”

you laughed loudly.

“i know…” you sighed anxiously through your nose, nervous clammy jitters in your chest. “his eye bags have gotten so bad this past week.”

“i think it’s because he’s been practicing over time.”

you stopped.

“what do you mean?”

she looked at you quizzically. “i thought you knew? yuji told me that the higher ups had a meeting with megumi and told him that they were expecting him to bring the world series home.”

she popped the lid back on her lip liner and threw it in her bag. “he practices all night on the field until like four am.”

“what the fuck?” your eyes narrowed. “he never told me that? he picks me up for my seven am class everyday… that means he’s only been getting what— like two and a half hours of sleep this past week?”

she stopped. “he didn’t tell you?”

“no!” you exclaimed. “when was this meeting?”

“at the start of last week.”

“oh my god.” you grumbled.

why didn’t he tell you?

“that’s fucked up.” she shook her head. “talk to him about that after babe… i don’t know why this man didn’t tell you something like that.”

“i would’ve never let him pick me up for class if i knew this was going on…” you gloomily fiddled with the buttons on your jersey. “or hang out with me after practice.”

and why the hell were the higher ups demanding so much from megumi? why were they burning him out with a responsibility so huge as to ensuring the success of the team for the world series? that wasn’t fair to him. that wasn’t fair at all.

your girl friend hugged you comfortingly.

“it’s fine don’t worry about it okay?… just talk to him after.”

once at the stadium, you and your best friend squeezed and pushed through the crowd to get to the v.i.p. section, the both of you sweating and panting over having run across the stadium’s parking lot and the main area, all because your best friend couldn’t decide which way to do her hair, and because you couldn’t decide if you should wear a skirt or jeans.

you ended up choosing for each other and calling it a day.

“hey! you guys!”

you both snapped your heads up and you recognized the source of the voice as one of the assistant crew members of the team, jogging up to you guys with two devices in his hands.

“you guys want these radios or are you good? they’re connected to the announcers and have earbuds!”

“oh i’ll take one! thank you!” you answered politely, smiling as he passed you and your best friend a radio.

you pushed the earbud into your left ear and sat.

the crowd was buzzing and cheering with excitement, flashes of light shimmering throughout the sold out stadium as many held up posters and signs or bobble heads, you smiling wide every time you spotted a few of megumi’s face and name.

the air was warm, and every kind of news reporter, publicist, and journalist was present on the sidelines as they filmed and interviewed several players from the opposing team.

“let’s play ball!”

the crowed roared, claps and whistles ringing through the air as yuji walked out from the dugout, the both of you screaming as the rest of the team followed suit, your shoulders evidently relaxing at the sight of megumi jogging out into position looking absolutely jaw dropping in his clean cut uniform and cap, serious and focused.

as the game ensued, it was no surprise that the boys’ team was absolutely demolishing the opposing players, megumi doing fucking stellar out on the field as he caught ball after ball with his glove, the announcers commentary certainly helping with explaining the context of the game due to your lack of knowledge, but you trying your hardest anyways to understand on your own.

and finally after a while of switching sides and megumi hitting like a greek god, the teams switched sides what seemed like the final time since it was almost the nine inning, his turn to hit.

“walking up to base now… number eighteen— megumi fushiguro!”

the crowd went fucking insane as he walked up, you immediately standing and screaming over the railing as he took his position up there— swinging soft faux hits before properly adjusting his footing on the loose dirt, fans waving around their fushiguro banners or his baseball cards as he settled.

the bags under his eyes…

you gnawed anxiously at your bottom lip. his team was so close to moving on to the league championships…

“and the pitcher throws….”

hit!

“strike one!”

megumi screwed his eyes shut and grimaced, shaking his head furiously as he shook the nerves from his body and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.

“oh!” the announcers groaned. “looks like megumi fushiguro missed a hit for the first time in history!”

for the first time?

you whipped your head around to face your girl friend. “for the first time?”

she looked at you with the same terrorized expression.

“fuck i knew he always hit but i didn’t know he never missed…” you whined worriedly. “he’s exhausted man i can see it look—”

megumi’s footing slightly slipped from the dirt as he positioned himself, getting ready for the next swing.

“and the pitcher throws again…”

hit!

“strike two!”

“fuck!” megumi roared, walking off the home plate and chucking his bat to the wall— the wood flying and clattering as it hit the ground, your eyes widening in horror.

“woah looks like fushiguro got another strike and.. needs to take a breather off the field..?”

“if megumi doesn’t get this next hit, they’re done!” your girl friend shook her head, eyes wide and afraid. “the other team is gonna take it!”

you ran your fingers through your hair exasperatedly, frantically looking at the scoreboard and back at megumi who was pacing a little off the plate with his head down, his hands on his hips.

“fushiguro!” you spotted yuji yelling from the dugout. “get back on the plate! we could get flagged!”

megumi’s chest heaved as he picked up his bat and wiped off the dirt, walking back over to the home plate and repositioning himself.

cameras flashed and recorded as he tried to get back into focus, news reporters talking their asses off and journalists scribbling god knows what— as they just earned themselves their biggest headline of the season.

megumi fushiguro missed his first hit in playing history.

“and the pitcher throws…”

hit!

“oh there it goes! looks like a fair ball!”

the crowd rallies as megumi books it over the first two bases, everyone watching as the ball hits over the outfield fence as he fucking dashes across the remaining two bases like nothing, earning himself a home run—

and scoring a spot in the league championship games for his team.

you and your best friend jump for complete joy, throwing your arms around each other and swaying as fans all around you celebrated and cheered just like the both of you, you happily watching the players from the dugout run up and engulf megumi in a group hug, jumping and laughing.

as the crowd began to disperse and take leave, you both quickly ran down the steps and to the field, you immediately spotting megumi and running up to him with your arms out.

“gumi!”

he noticed you and extended his arms, but his face read nothing as you jumped into them.

“good job good job! you did so amazing!”

“nice fushiguro!” yuji nudged his shoulder. “you brought us through!”

“i missed the first two hits.”

he set you back down.

yuji shrugged. “so? it happens. i do it all the time! you made a home run and scored us the league.”

megumi only silently nodded, his face to the ground as you told yuji and your best friend that you would see them in the locker rooms with everybody else.

and once everyone had cleared out from the field, you turned to him.

“hey…” you started. “what’s wrong?”

his eyes remained glued to the dirt.

“i missed the first two hits.”

your shoulders deflated. “you heard what yuji said… it’s okay. it was bound to happen but it’s fine because you fixed it—”

“we were on thin fucking ice today.”

his snippy tone took you by surprise a bit.

“yes… but you made it...” you responded softly. “you all pulled through. especially you.”

he scoffed and shook his head, him finally raising his baggy eyes and looking to the side, pissed.

“i almost cost us the league. that’s what i did.”

“gumi—” you exhaled a frustrated breath. “you literally played like a machine the entire time and had other hits that were amazing? i don’t understand why two little strikes—”

his eyes snapped to yours. “two little strikes?” he shook his head again. “two strikes too fucking many.”

“what is your issue?—”

“my issue is that if i fucked up that third hit it would’ve been all over. we would’ve lost the division, lost the league, and lost the world series, all because i don’t know how to fucking play ball—”

“yes you do! you’re being way too hard on yourself baby you need to take a breather and rest—”

“how many times have you nagged me about that already.” he spat.

you froze.

“nagged?” you repeated softly.

“yes. you’ve told me enough times i get it i need rest, i need sleep, i need this i need that—”

“i’m saying that because look at you!” you motioned with your hands, feeling potential tears prickling at the back of your eyes at the way he was speaking to you. “your under eyes are dark and purple, your eyes are red you look exhausted!”

“and i told you i’m fine!” he raised his voice a bit. “you wouldn’t understand the shit that i have to do for this team the shit i have to pull and i gave them absolute garbage today—”

“oh my god megumi!” you snapped. “your team is a team effort! it’s not just you! you’re not the only one pulling the stops so enough with trying to take on this load and overwork yourself! please you played amazing today everyone was cheering so loud for you and—”

“stop talking.”

you paused.

“just—” he rubbed his tired eyes and turned to the side. “just please stop talking.”

stop… talking?

he struck a chord, and you felt your heart literally break at his words, an aching heavy pit in your chest as you recounted his yelling and snappiness when all you were trying to do was help him.

thats all you’ve ever tried to do for megumi really— help him, support him, and love him. but for him to throw it all back in your face and say you didn’t understand? for you to basically shut up?

tears were slipping past your eyes at this point, and when you felt like megumi finally bothered to look at you in the face, his eyes widened and his shoulders dropped.

“baby—”

“and what about you?”

he stopped. “about me—”

“yes about you. you’re saying i don’t understand anything you’re fucking going through, as if i haven’t followed you through your career since the moment we met and before that, like i haven’t supported you on the sidelines and asked you question after question about your games just so i can fucking understand—”

“no i—”

you cut him off. “and then you’re here— yelling at me, telling me off, and telling me to shut up when i’m the only one fucking standing here with you after the game trying to be there for you?!—”

“baby— fuck i’m sorry okay i didn’t mean—”

you laughed bitterly. “you didn’t mean it. didn’t mean what? to accidentally let it slip that you actually do think i’m a blabbermouth?”

he was taken aback as his eyebrows furrowed, shaking his head desperately. “no— no that’s not what i meant at all y/n i’m sorry. i’ve been so stressed and tired and i’m taking it all out on you right now and— and that’s not okay and not an excuse.”

megumi quickly stepped forward and placed his hands on your face, but you pushed him away, hurt flashing across his eyes as you did so.

“and why didn’t you tell me about the meeting huh? the one with the higher ups last week?”

surprise crossed his face. “how did you—”

“doesn’t matter how i heard it. why didn’t you tell me? do you understand how that makes me feel when i have to find out through someone else and not my own boyfriend?”

he ran a hand through his spiky black hair and sighed exhaustedly.

“i didn’t tell you because i knew you would be upset about it and i didn’t want you to worry—”

“so you just chose to keep it from me that’s real nice.” you spat. “of course i wouldn’t be happy with it they’re stripping you down and exploiting you! how could they say that it’s all on you to bring it home for the world series? do you understand how insane that sounds?”

“i know but i can’t tell them anything i just have to say yes!” he explained.

“you have every right to tell them something! and if you would’ve communicated this with me like you should’ve done, i wouldn’t have let you lose so much sleep over me and maybe you wouldn’t have played the way you think you played, and you wouldn’t be standing here shitting all over me!”

he really struck a chord.

“y/n—”

“bye megumi.”

his breath hitched.

“no— hey don’t do that—”

he scrambled after you as you made your way out of the field, him quickly catching up and tugging you into him with his long arms around your shoulders, bringing your back to his front as he ducked his face down.

“let’s fix it please we need to fix this—”

“i want to be alone right now, megumi.” you mumbled.

god he hated how many times you’ve called him that already tonight, feeling like the biggest asshole to ever grace your precious life.

“no i don’t want you to be upset with me please—”

“we can talk later on the phone.” your tone was lifeless. “i just need to be alone.”

he faltered, feeling gutting pain cascade all over his body as he hesitantly, slowly, slipped his arms away and released you.

“o—okay.”

he watched you walk up the stands and to the exit as you clutched yourself, his eyes catching the back of your jersey reading his last name that sent an immediate pang through his chest, your frame disappearing from his view and leaving him in his stupid thoughts as he snatched his cap off from his head and threw it to the side in frustration.

that night megumi tried to call you but you didn’t pick up, you barely even answering his texts as he wallowed in self pity alone in his apartment.

and you hadn’t stopped crying since the moment your tears hit on the field— hurt and exhausted and guilty as you settled into bed, unable to bring yourself to call him and go through with your word, deciding to text instead.

(you): i’m really tired i’m sorry. i’ll see if i can call you in the morning.

megumi took no time at all to respond.

(gumi <3): can i take you to class tomorrow?

(you): i don’t think that’s a good idea

he swallowed the lump in his throat and fought back the urge to fight it, wanting to respect you and your space.

but you only kept crying.

(gumi <3): okay

(you): goodnight

(gumi <3): goodnight pretty baby

just as you were about to place your phone back on your nightstand, it buzzed again.

(gumi <3): i love you i’m sorry

you sniffled and put your phone away officially, choosing not to respond.

the following week leading up to the league championship game, megumi spent every waking moment trying to make it up to you, trying to fix it, but you only seemed to stay away from him and distance yourself, something that hurt megumi like no other.

you felt like it was your fault he played the way he did that day. if you had been smarter, more mindful, you would’ve noticed that the intensity of his exhaustion was extremely abnormal, and perhaps you could’ve done something about it before it was too late and saved yourself the dreadful fight you had with him.

you hated the way you spoke to him, and you fully convinced yourself that you only served as a distraction for him, opting to keeping your distance as far away as possible so it allowed megumi to get his head focused again and ensure a promised route to the world series— something you had hoped to be there to witness, but deeming his success way more important than your needs at this point in time.

so you stopped going to all of his practices following that day, the fact tormenting megumi as you always went to each and every single one and was there for him without fault— rain or shine, always waiting for him in the locker rooms when he was finished.

but you weren’t there anymore. and each day you weren’t was another day megumi would spend angry and frustrated with himself that he did what he did. he knew your defense mechanism was pushing people away, and your current behavior gave him flashbacks to the time last year when he was falling for you and you kept running away from him, scared— those actions a carbon copy of what’s happening now, except far worse.

and he did that to you. he yelled at you and snapped at you, told you to stop talking for some fucking reason that he still couldn’t find the proper explanation for… and he made you cry. so much. your usual sweet honeyed voice you spoke to him with long gone since that day.

and he missed you. more than anything.

“you stupid—” throw “self absorbed—” throw “asshole—” throw “narcissistic—” throw—

“okay that’s enough that’s enough!”

yuji pulled your best friend back as she chucked towel after towel at megumi following one of their practices, her absolutely fuming.

he took every hit, not bothering to dodge. he deserved it.

“she told me what you did—” she shook herself away from yuji’s grip. “what the hell is the matter with you? how could you yell at her like that on the field? when all she’s ever done is love you—”

“i know.” megumi mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “i know i’m really sorry. i regret it.”

“fuck yeah you should,” she scoffed. “that woman’s been cooped up every day in her room bawling her eyes out over you!”

yuji nodded sadly, and megumi let out a pained breath as he closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, propping his elbows on his knees, leaning forward.

“fuck me…”

“yeah fuck you—”

“okay! okay. he’s already down let him bleed out.” yuji muttered to her as he rubbed his hands over her arms soothingly, an attempt at calming her down.

he looked at him. “megumi, you and i both know that she understands you were frustrated that day. the both of you. if you just talk to her—”

“you think i haven’t tried?” megumi picked his head up, and the both of them froze at the way his eyes glossed over.

“i’ve— i’ve called her, i’ve texted her, i drove by her house but she’s never there, fuck i even went to her campus at seven in the morning but couldn’t find her.”

he took his cap off and roughly rubbed over his eyes again.

your best friend sighed then after a moment, slowly stepping forward and sitting down next to him on the bench.

“she’ll come around megumi.” she mumbled. “just give her some time. i know it’s hard, but she really really loves you.” she sighed deeply. “she’ll come around.”

megumi nodded solemnly, and yuji stepped forward, patting his shoulder.

“you okay man?”

he nodded again.

missed phone calls, lagging dry texts, and last minute cancellations from you all happened for a week straight.

and when the time finally came for the league championships, megumi wanted nothing more than for you to be there as he stared at his messy fucking locker when prepping for the game— another reminder that you hadn’t been around, and another reminder that you wouldn’t be here tonight to see him, something he completely did not blame you for.

luckily, the league championship game was at their home base once more, and as the crowd got settled to watch, energies heightened as the players all got settled over the field to play ball— megumi shook the nerves from his body as he focused with the game, and you, on his mind like a religion.

and as the game ran on with the team scoring run after run, another win was blatantly obvious for them— megumi entirely unaware of your presence that was watching him the entire time in the stands.

you couldn’t help yourself. you needed to be there to watch him, needed to see him take home another achievement like that, regardless of where you both stood as you watched from just above the v.i.p section, shivering like an idiot because you forgot to bring a jacket after deciding to wear a flowy tube top for the day, but excited for him nonetheless.

you didn’t tell a single soul you were coming, not even your best friend as you just wanted to see megumi again before running off into the shadows of your embarrassing despair, missing him like fucking crazy and nearly sobbing when you saw him walk out on the field at the start, but even more emotional to the fact that they were actually going to move on to the world series by the looks of it.

and the crowd hollered eventually as the speakers blasted megumi’s teams signature song—

finalizing their spot in the world series.

your eyes glowed as you watched his team run up on the field and tackle each other down, literally rolling in the dirt as you giggled to yourself— sighing contently and about to turn and walk out of the stadium to go home when a strong rough hand wrapped around your bare upper arm.

“you’re fushiguro’s girl! aren’t you?”

you snapped your head up and saw someone you recognized as one of megumi’s crew members for the team, and you relaxed, trusting him.

“oh! yeah i am!”

“sweet! i just got hired to be on the crew a couple of weeks ago.”

“that’s great!” you answered politely, smiling. “how is—”

“listen i was wondering if i could get any tickets to the world series from you?”

what.

“um—” your eyes darted around awkwardly. “for— for the world series?—”

“yeah! i took this job so i could get some but apparently i need to be working longer than three weeks. dumb.”

you gnawed at the inside of your cheek as your eyes drifted downward to your arm.

he still hadn’t let go.

“oh i’m sorry.” you mumbled. “i could— i could maybe get you one? one for sure!”

he shook his head. “shit sorry, i need like five.”

“five?!” you gawked. “i can’t get you five i’m really sorry… i can only maybe get you one.”

his eyes narrowed. “why not? you’re fushiguro’s girl are you not?”

“yes but what does that have to do with me getting you tickets to the world series?” you spoke nervously, trying to put on a brave front as his height literally towered over you.

“why don’t you ask him for tickets? he’s literally megumi fushiguro i’m sure he can cough up some—”

you scoffed.

“i’m not gonna ask him anything for you just because you want to use me to get tick—”

“so then what the fuck are you with him for?” his grip tightened around your arm as he pulled you a little, and you winced.

“let go of me!—”

megumi considered himself a relatively calm person throughout his life.

he knew he had his explosive rude moments here and there, him also accidentally offending people unknowingly with his words, but that behavior only stayed on the field as it pertained to the game at hand or with baseball itself, his life outside of that a treasured tranquil one as he spent his days with you and only you, something he looked forward to every waking moment since the day he met you.

but as he heard your little voice through the yelling of the crowd, instantly recognizing it and picking up on its distressed demeanor— his body did a full one-eighty as his eyes frantically searched for you through the mass of people.

and once he did spot you? your breathtaking little self being manhandled by some fucking moron who had his hand around your upper arm?

he didn’t consider himself a relatively calm person anymore.

megumi quickly snatched his cap off and passed it to a confused yuji and your best friend, sprinting at the speed of light across the field and to the fence of the v.i.p. section before hoisting himself up and climbing, jumping over once he reached the top and landing on the stands— him running up a few steps before finally reaching you and tearing the guy off.

“get the fuck off.”

he gently pushed you behind him, his chest heaving.

“the shit are you doing hurting her arm like that for huh?!” megumi stepped forward.

“hey! hey i’m sorry man i— i didn’t know i was hurting her—”

“sure you fucking did she was literally telling you to let go and you were throwing her around like—”

“megumi please—”

“are you part of the crew?”

“y—yeah?”

“you’re gone. you’re fired you’re—”

“wait i’m sorry! i was just trying to get tickets to the world series—”

megumi’s eyes blew open, wild and infuriated.

“that’s why you were grabbing her like that? you were harrassing her for some fucking ticke— you know what—”

megumi stepped forward before you could stop him as he reeled his fist back and knocked him straight in the jaw, the guy stumbling back a bit and the crowd gasping before megumi spun around and grabbed your legs, throwing you over his shoulder.

“get the fuck out of my way.”

the small crowd that stuck around for the altercation parted with no questions asked, his long legs striding over across the exit and to the teams now vacant locker room— kicking the door open before gently setting you down on your feet.

he ran his hands over your soft hair frantically as he grabbed your cheeks and checked you over, your teary doe eyes breaking him apart.

“hey are you okay? are you fine?”

megumi let go of your face and gently lifted your upper arm, his eyes hardening at the purple forming bruise from that dickwads hand.

“he’s gone he’s gone—”

you lunged and wrapped your arms around his waist tightly as he started to charge back out, pulling him back.

“no! stop it’s okay you already hit him i think he got the message.” you mumbled, letting him go.

megumi turned to you then, his eyes softening over your timid sad frame as you played with your fingers, gaze down.

“y/n.”

“hm?”

he frowned.

“can you please look at me.”

you listened reluctantly and peered up at him.

he exhaled. “baby i— i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry for everything that i said to you that night. i meant none of it. nothing. i was just angry at myself and stressed and stupid and i hate that i talked to you like that and took it out on you. you didn’t deserve that at all.”

you hurriedly wiped your silent tears— nodding, but saying nothing.

he leaned down to look at you at eye level.

“are you okay?”

you nodded again and sniffled.

“talk baby.” he pleaded with you gently, eyes sad. “tell me, please.”

you cowered a little as you finally broke into tiny sobs, your hands hovering over your face to hide your tears as he placed his big hands on your upper arms, megumi feeling like he just got run over by an entire military tank at the sight of you crying because of him.

“i—i’m sorry i yelled at you—” you hiccuped. “i was so mean and i f—feel really bad—”

“baby why are you apologizing?” he shook his head. “it’s me it’s all me i’m the one who was mean to you—”

“no but—” you sniffled. “you were just stressed from the game like you said and that’s fine i should’ve been more aware. i didn’t mean to upset you with me talking—”

“oh pretty baby..” he breathed out, agonizingly, megumi literally beating himself up. “remember when i said one time you were too nice for your own good?”

you nodded.

“this is one of those moments. you should be yelling at me and throwing things at me like your best friend did.”

your eyebrows furrowed as you sniffled. “she— she did?”

“she did.” he nodded. “rightfully so.”

you giggled a little, and he smiled softly.

“i’m sorry i distanced myself the way i did…” you mumbled, a waterfall of tears coming down again. “i just thought that i was a distraction and— and i wanted you to focus.”

“a distraction?” he murmured. “y/n you are never a distraction.”

“no but at the end of the day i was…” you sobbed. “you need to be there for your team you have—“ hic! “you have responsibilities and i don’t want you to put me above that and— and keep hanging out with me when you have so much to do—”

“something you need to understand is that i’m replaceable.” he cut you off, tone firm. “the minute they find some other dude that’s way better than me and quicker than me and they draft his ass over to the team? they are going to replace me faster than you will ever think. that’s just the way jobs are. i’m replaceable no matter how much you wanna think it’s not true.”

he shook his head, his face pained. “but you are not. you’re not fucking replaceable there is no other you. you are my life now baby. yes my career is a priority, but so are you, and i would rather them replace me than lose you entirely.”

he wiped the tears from your cheeks, your doe eyes wide.

“i appreciate that you care so much and you support me and that you want me to devote all of my time to only this— you’re an angel on earth for all of that… but as your man i’m telling you that all of my time is devoted to you now, not just baseball.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him closer to you, tight, him immediately reciprocating and snaking his arms around your waist.

he could finally breathe.

“do you understand?” he murmured softly, rubbing his hands over your back soothingly.

you nodded.

“but you can’t— wear yourself out like you did okay?” you sniffled. “you can’t let them push you and tire you out… and please listen when we say for you to rest…”

“i know i’m sorry. i’ll listen next time baby i promise.”

“i get you trying to improve for yourself and push your limits… but— but there’s a difference between wanting to better your play and straight up wearing yourself down.”

you pulled back a little to look at him, wiping your tears and hiccuping. “and i worry man… i worry so much because i—“ hic! “i love you and i always think about if you’re eating right or— or getting enough sleep—”

his heart literally melted as he felt the remains of it ooze and spread all over his body and insides, your pure sweet concerns tugging at him and turning him into absolute putty before you.

he tightened his grip around your waist and lifted you, gently rocking your bodies as you sniffled and cried, his eyes screwed shut and feeling every possible emotion a human being could ever feel… but feeling love most of all.

love for you. love for who you are.

megumi kissed your wet cheek delicately and let his lips linger there as he spoke.

“i’m in love with you…” he murmured. “i hope you know that.”

your heart fluttered and you nodded, a little smile playing at your face.

“i’m in love with you too gumi.” you hummed, pressing a sweet kiss of your own to his cheek.

he set you back down and cupped your cheeks, slowly leaning in and pressing light tender kisses to your lips, his mouth completely savoring over the taste of yours as he had been deprived of them for a freaking week— feeling like his dried up soul had been rejuvenated and made anew.

and you felt the same way… because you deepened the kiss, picked up the pace, pulled him closer until his chest was flush against yours and your hot breaths were mixed together in a misty cloud, megumi breathing heavily through his nose as he ran his needy desperate hands over your delicious body.

he trailed wet open mouthed kisses on your cheek, jaw, and all the way down to the side of your exposed neck, his hand supporting the other side as he feverishly licked a slow long stripe of spit up your neck with his rough tongue, your fists gripping the sides of his jersey as he nibbled and bit, his lips finally coming to enclose and suck around a certain spot as your breath hitched at how frenzied and sloppy he was being, drool practically running down your neck as he ravished, bit, and sucked over multiple areas.

you shoved your hands down his pants suddenly, and he choked in surprise as his hips thrusted forward, your fingers pumping and palming his hardened cock slowly as his breath shuddered against your neck.

“baby...” he murmured.

“hm?”

“how would you feel if i turned on the shower and fucked my cock in your pretty little cunt for a bit in there huh?…”

a needy whimper slipped past your lips against his ear, and he grew weak.

“is that okay—”

“more than okay—”

you squealed as he wasted no time in picking you up again and walking over to the showers, the both of you clumsily tearing off your clothes as megumi fumbled with the shower switch until luke warm water spritzed from above— entrapping the both of you in a humid trance as megumi squeezed your bare thighs and ushered you to jump, you doing so immediately and wrapping your legs around his waist.

he stepped in and literally slammed the shower door shut, the two of you giggling a little as the soothing water washed over your panting bodies, the sight of his handsome bright face making your cheeks flush and bury your face in his neck in response.

he chuckled softly, gently setting your back against the wet tile wall before kissing you again and again, his mouth messy against your puffy lips as he tried to drink up all that you gave him, the tip of his cock slipping past your folds and brushing against your swollen clit— each time making you squeak and jump.

you didn’t care about anything, your mind reeling and just wanting megumi’s dick inside of you as soon as possible, knowing that you’d never really had sex before and literally not giving a single shit because it was him— someone you trusted the most out of anyone in your life, and someone you wanted to give your all to no matter the circumstance.

he lined his fat tip then against your drooling hole.

“wait! wait the door—“ you gripped his shoulders for support. “the door did you lock it?”

“nope.”

megumi pushed his cock in slowly and gently, your choked gasps and moans echoing inside the shower as his head fell to rest in the crook of your hickey covered neck, him groaning in ecstasy as your gummy warm pussy strangled his dick to the tightest degree, already previously so wet and gushy that it thankfully barely hurt you at all as he bottomed out.

“fuuuckk— you’re warm.” he murmured, gripping your hips like a vice and softly caressing his thumb against your slippery skin to soothe you— hoping (but not really), you’d maybe release the clutch your pussy had on his dick to stop him from already shooting his cum all over your insides like a loser.

he slowly drew his hips back and fucked into you again, you jolting at the force as you fumbled to keep your grip steady on his shoulders, his cock fucking thick and massive as his little curve poked deliciously at your cervix, him gradually increasing his pace as you shuddered over the quick pat pat pat’s echoing through the walls.

“g—gumiii..” you whined.

“what baby?” he mumbled breathlessly, his eyes glued to where his dick connected with your hole as it slipped in and out lewdly, your pussy literally squelching and screaming for him with your bouncing tits in his face that made him clench his jaw in self restraint— trying his hardest not to fucking ram into you like nothing and take you.

“y—you’re biigg!” you hiccuped, your little gasps of breath enticing droplets of cum to leak out of his tip and ooze out of your little wet folds, megumi moaning at your words.

“yeah?” pat pat pat— “s’too much for you baby?”

he picked up the pace, on purpose as he meanly bounced you on his cock and shot his hips up against your pussy, his big heavy balls slapping against your ass and making your eyes fucking cross at the feeling.

“tell me you love me.” he panted. “now.”

“i—“ hic! “i love you—”

megumi grabbed your cheeks with his fingers and mushed them together, grinning deviously at the way your pouty lips pushed out cutely.

“how much.”

“s—so- ah!— so much gumi—”

“more— shit!” he choked, a particular squeeze from your abused cunt almost making him finish. “m— more than anything?”

slap slap slap—

“y—yes!—” you could barely even speak due to the erotic hold he had on your face. “i love you i love you i love—”

you squealed as he let go of your face, gave into his desires and rammed into you, both hands on your bruised hips as he gave your pussy no room to breathe with how fast he was shoving his fat cock inside of you, pounding and pummeling into your guts as your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt your release build up in your tummy.

“why were you asking me about the door earlier huh?” he panted. “you don’t want anyone to see how much of a” thrust! “slut you are? your legs spread for me like this and your pretty pussy creaming on my dick?”

you whined and moaned so fucking loudly, it ringing through megumi’s ears like a wicked symphony.

he pinched your nipple when you didn’t respond.

“answer me.”

thrust thrust thrust—

“n—no i didn’t!”

“no?”

he gripped your neck and sloppily ran his mouth over yours, feeling his cum on the brink of shooting out.

“m’gonna cum inside.”

“in— mmphf!— inside?”

“you don’t want it?” he let go of your neck. “cause i won’t give it to you if you don’t want it—”

“i do i do!” you scrambled and cupped his cheeks, bringing his lips back in and kissing him messily.

“give it to me gumi please!—“ hic! “eeekkk!”

hot sticky cum pumped out of his tip and into your gushy walls, your high making your toes curl as you creamed around his heavy cock feverishly, megumi’s entire body fucking shivering at the way your pussy felt like it was entirely made and molded for him.

he softly pumped himself inside and out of you, his mouth hung open in a daze as he watched his white cum slide out of your pretty hole and over his still connected dick, gently easing out after a minute and carefully setting you back down— not completely though, as he knew you’d be sore as he leaned most if not all of your body weight against him.

you held each other in a tight embrace then, your heavy breaths trying to find its normal rhythm as the warm water continued to cascade down your bodies, comfortingly.

“why don’t we have sex more often...” you mumbled.

he laughed softly, pecking the side of your head. “i was waiting for you to tell me baby. i didn’t want to pressure you.”

“i was waiting for you to tell me.” you emphasized. “i didn’t want to jump on you and just violate you—”

megumi’s chest vibrated as he laughed again, a cute boyish one that made you bite your lip.

“violate me?” he murmured, an amused smile on his face. “i’d want you to.”

“yeah?” you tilted your head, and his cheeks grew hot.

“yeah.”

finally you and megumi were in sync again, going back into each other’s routines as if the week long hiccup never happened, the both of you officially unraveling the aching knots in your chests that you hauled for seven tormenting days straight— together and attached to the hip once again as he started picking you up for your seven am classes every morning like before, you going to his practices straight after, and spending your hours sleeping in his dark cozy room this time around, snoring your little life away so megumi could recover.

and eventually, the world series arrived.

“my camera! my camera! my digital one did i bring it?!”

you flipped your purse upside down and dumped all of your things on the floor— your lip combo, compact mirror, snacks, random receipts, and small perfume bottle rolling around on the ground until your digital camera was finally in view.

your best friend cackled as she crouched down and helped you pick up your things. “you were taking pictures up megumi’s nose on the two hour drive over here yes you brought it—”

“i know i forgot i’m so nervous what if they lose what if someone fumbles what if—”

you both stood as you rambled on and she placed both of her hands on your shoulders, shaking you. “calm down! they’ll be fine! win or lose they still made it to the world series!”

the crowd roared much like the past two games, except much heavier, louder, more drilling as the music drummed through your body, the air windy but refreshing, and high pitched whistles echoing from around the stadium as everyone anticipated for the biggest game of the season.

you had lost count how many different news stations were here broadcasting the game, how many reporters you saw scrambling across the field trying to interview certain players— you too busy taking pictures of every single little thing and the both of you reapplying your lip liners over a million fucking times— even flagging down a crew member so you could take a picture with just your best friend, your backs to the camera showcasing the last names of your boyfriend’s on your jersey’s.

and when the game officially commenced and the players all went out on the field— megumi and his team did what they always do best, taking control of the scoreboard and earning runs like chump change as they worked professionally to take the trophy home, you constantly snapping pictures of megumi that your digital camera ran out of fucking storage before you even got the shot that you wanted.

eventually after a while of playing, it was megumi’s turn to hit.

“fuck! record for me please record! my camera ran out of storage oh my god use my phone please i love you—”

your best friend laughed as she took your phone from you and did what you asked, your hands on the railing and leaning over it as you anxiously watched him walk up to home plate and take position.

but instead of doing his usual faux swings and repositioned footing, megumi stepped to the side and turned his bat downward, you unable to tell what he was doing as his frame was blocking, his arm moving in various directions before he stepped back again on the home plate and repositioned himself.

your eyes trailed to the ground.

megumi had carved your initials in the dirt.

your girl friend gasped and cooed. “y/nnn!”

as megumi now did his faux swings, your bottom lip only wobbled as your eyes stayed trained to the carvings in the dirt, your heart skipping a thousand beats per minute as the thought of megumi thinking about you out there during one of the most important nights of his life, made you question repeatedly how you ever landed a man like him when all you do is talk and cry.

hit!

your eyes snapped up and you quickly wiped the corners of your eyes, megumi already running across the first two bases as the crowd roared.

“bring it home fushiguro!”

several of his teammates were cheering him on from the dugout, megumi running four runs with just one fucking hit?—

a grand slam.

and suddenly you were taken back to the day you noticed megumi for the first time, just like now with your doe eyes wide and cheeks pink, recognizing the only piece of baseball terminology you knew besides a home run.

except then he was just a stranger you were hopelessly in love with that knew how to play ball like no other.

now though, he’s a man you couldn’t ever imagine your life without. and you didn’t want to.

so as the game reached nine innings, megumi’s team running on the field in a bundle of absolute tears and yells and hollers that they won the world fucking series, all clustering together as they hoisted several players up on their shoulders, including megumi—

you and your best friend instantly booked it down there in a fit of tears.

you had no time to get your personal belongings together as you sprinted across the field like your life fucking depended on it towards megumi— him being put down by his teammates and him frantically looking around after until he spotted you, the brightest smile spreading across his face as he chucked his cap to the side and opened his arms out wide for you.

you jumped in and he spun you around, holding you tight as the screaming crowd surrounding you drowned itself out as you cried into megumi’s neck.

he pulled back, panting.

“did you see how i did a grand slam?”

you nodded rapidly.

“i did it because i knew its the only thing you would recognize!” he yelled over the noise. “so you would feel included when we won!”

oh my god.

he still remembered when you told him that?

“guummiii! how did you even calculate that?!” you cried harder, and he laughed as he spread tiny kisses all over your teary face, his eyes glimmering with absolute unadulterated happiness and bliss, the reality of having the two things he wanted most in life settling into his mind.

megumi didn’t really have a stance on religion— whether the factor is real or not something he didn’t really care about nor mind as he simply just chose to live.

but as he held you on the field, you crying for him and embracing him the way that you were, kissing him the way that you were, megumi only wanted to be covered in your favor. megumi only wanted to devote his entire life to you.

megumi only wanted to believe in you.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

want more? you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

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[sydneyofalltrades]

sunrise on the reaping spoilers (question mark?)? mostly talk about the ballad of songbirds and snakes so

but yeah it’s so funny to me how out of all the songs lucy gray sings that are still known to the remaining covey (“the old therebefore,” “the hanging tree,” “nothing you can take”) and the ones the capitol adored (“the ballad of lucy gray baird”), the song she sings for coriolanus is suspiciously absent from retellings and shows

it’s so hilarious to me that “pure as the driven snow” is the only song that isn’t repeated throughout the books, because its message is no longer relevant or true. lucy gray doesn’t love, trust, or need coriolanus at the end of the ballad of songbirds and snakes, whereas every other song in sunrise on the reaping has a purpose.

burdock sings “the old therebefore” as it’s a covey funeral song.

the covey performed “nothing you can take” and maysilee’s grandmother tells her the lyrics to comfort her.

“the ballad of lucy gray baird” is televised to haymitch to taunt him, and he makes the connection between the song and the only little known district 12 victor.

“the hanging tree” is a song of defiance that ends up in the mockingjay’s life, and is used as a rallying cry for the earliest stages of the rebellion in twelve.

but “pure as the driven snow,” a song of devotion for a man who no longer deserves it, is conspicuously absent from the rest of the timeline after its first and only performance.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCXDP fanfic idea: Cold Case

Bruce Wayne has worked on many cold cases over the years of being Batman. The ones shelved away after all efforts to find justice have run out. He's seen many of them be challenging to solve for the detectives assigned to them years ago. Others were obviously not investigated as thoroughly as they should have.

A rare few were purposely ignored for one reason or another. Bruce tried his best to stop current crimes, but as someone whose own parents' murder was not solved until he brought the man to justice, he knows how much closure could mean.

He worked on them whenever possible, trying to find the missing pieces to explain what happened. Usually, his kids also picked a few up here and there, but no one put in as many hours to solve closed cases as Bruce. (Tim came a close second)

That's why he clicked through an old file with his morning coffee one Saturday instead of enjoying a sleep-in. His eyes rapidly fall over the words of the police report, then the following investigation reports, witness statements and a few pictures. This file is surprisingly thick, but having no valid leads made Bruce suspicious that foul play was a t work/

It's about a young teenage boy who vanished from a small town in Illinois before his body was discovered stuffed into a rotted locker in Gotham three years later.

Daniel Fenton was last seen dining with his friends at the local burger restaurant, Nasty Burger, after school. He was seen parting with his friends two hours later. Samantha Manson's parents arrived to pick up Samantha and Tucker Foley for an art show.

Daniel had not gotten permission to go; he had been grounded due to his grades, but although Mr. Manson offered to drive him home, and the man even called the boy's sister to pick him up, Daniel insisted on walking.

The town had been relatively safe enough that most teens walked around, so the four had driven off to beat the traffic. Daniel had turned towards his house, vanishing from the restaurant's CCTV camera's sight soon after.

The walk should have taken him no more than thirty minutes, but he was an hour late. Daniel's mother frantically called all his friends after failing to contact her son within those thirty minutes. The boy's friends send messages and calls, but the boy does not respond.

Another hour later, Mr. and Mrs Fenton phoned in a missing person report. They drove around looking for Daniel as the police slowly walked through the town, and word spread quickly that the youngest Fenotn had gone missing. By the seven-hour mark, a search party of Daniel's schoolmates and a few neighbors had been formed.

Police and one hundred and three civilians were on the hunt for Daniel.

Neither Samatha's nor Tucker's messages were marked as read, although a chilling fact was that Mrs. Fenton, Mr.Fenton, and Jasmine Fenton's text messages were opened. That pinged within a block of the Fenton's residence.

Two witnesses claimed to have seen Daniel at the corner shop one block from his house, where he stopped to buy a drink. A man in a trench coat approached the boy to ask for his opinion on the chip flavors.

Daniel could be seen chatting with him for a few minutes while standing in line to pay for their purchases, as the witnesses were the cashier and one other customer. After being rung up, Daniel left the man at the counter. The police could track this man down after the boy had gone missing for twelve hours.

However, it was concluded that he had nothing to do with the disappearance, seeing as the man had ordered a cab straight to the airport and gotten on a flight right. He had even waited inside the small corner shop, sitting idly at a table until his cab arrived.

The cab camera, airport security, and plane ticket confirmed his alibi. By the seventy-two-hour mark, a new clue appeared. Daniel's backpack was half dug in a hole five miles outside the city limits when a hiker spotted the slight gleam of the strap's decorative pin.

This was seven miles from where he had disappeared. Inside his backpack were his broken phone, school supplies, the clothes he was last seen in, and a framed photo of Daniel sleeping in his room.

Sadly, the investigators could not find any clues from the sight due to the heavy rain the previous two days. Even the items within the bag were half destroyed from the rain and mud ( Bruce thought that was a ridiculous claim. He would need to break into the evidence archives, steal the backpack, and run some tests. He would ask Barry for help if he had to.)

Two towns over, another witness claimed to have seen Daniel walking by the side of road, being led by a woman in a grey dress. His picture had been shared by frantic schoolmates at a football game where the new witness recognized him.

This was one week after Daniel's disappearance. The witness had claimed to have captured the pair on her dash cam after she had saved the clip because the two had appeared from the shadows "like ghosts," and she had screamed when her headlights shone on them.

The witness was driving through the back roads to her aunt's house, and the lack of street lights, alongside the dense trees lining the roads, made it hard for anyone to see at night. The clip was no more than seven seconds.

It is just as the car turns onto the dirt road that Daniel can be seen turning towards the car, his right wrist trapped in a woman's hold. He stares into the camera while it passes by, not showing any signs of distress.

The woman is turned away from the vehicle, seemingly peering into the trees as if she thought something had caught her attention. The pair's outfits are peculiar- they seem to be dressed from the early eighteen hundreds, which was why the witness had gotten such a fright.

After searching the area where this sighting was held, the police could not find any evidence that Daniel had passed through there. The case went cold for six months before a concerned man called his local authorities about a young boy standing on the edge of a bridge. He had accidentally spotted the boy while filming a wide landscape video of his hotel room.

By the time the man had raced down to the lobby and gotten to the bridge, the emergency operator in his ear, Daniel, had vanished. When the police collected the video, they could identify the same woman wearing the same dress standing by a white van in the background. Thankfully, its license plates were in full view.

The van was later found to have been reported stolen two years before Daniel's disappearance. However, a common link existed between five other missing people investigations that spanned those two years. Sadly, the van was never seen again, and police assumed it was scrapped.

Daniel's case went cold for three years until his body was discovered during a renovation effort funded by Bruce himself. All work on the old buildings was halted as Daniel's death was confirmed, the investigation was underway, and Wayne Enterprise working entirely with the police to find out what happened to the young boy. His body was sent back to his family after the autopsy had been completed.

Daniel Fenton's cause of death was ruled to be suffocation. Physical indications on his body indicated he had attempted to fight off whoever had left those marks around his neck, but in the end, Daniel had not won. Despite the many tests they conducted on the locker and the area, no other clues could be found of how, when, and by whom Daniel had wound up there.

Bruce didn't appreciate the entire lack of clues. He had searched and done his own testing as Batman the same night Daniel's body had been found. Nothing had appeared on his tests until he had attempted to use one of Constantine's runes.

This one had flared up for a mighty ghost. Bruce had gotten the idea to check for the paranormal after rumors spread of a ghost fitting Daniel's description through the nearby neighborhood children. Constantine claimed that it was not the murder victim, Daniel Fenton, but rather something far older and far more dangerous.

Something prone to luring humans away. Bruce believes the woman seen near Daniel in the last few years of his life was not a human.

Bruce sighs, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. He's gone over the file five times, yet nothing seems to jump out at him. His coffee had gone from pipping hot to lukewarm, and his children were slowly tickling into the room.

He raises his mug at them in greeting, hiding a smile behind his cup as Cass leans over to side hug him. His daughter is always more physical in her greetings, which makes him so happy that he ignores how her eyes have launched onto his screen with intense concentration.

"A cold case?" Tim asks from around a yawn. Bruce's head barely finishes the nodding motion before the boy leans closer to the table, eyes sharp. "What's it about?"

"The body was found in the restoration affordable housing project that was canceled," Bruce replies. He begins summarizing the case to his children as the rest finally settle around the table, looking at the usual amount of exhaustion Bruce has long ago been able to push through.

He can spot the moment they all start theorizing or analyzing the presented information while he scrolls up to see Daniel's smiling face. Bruce is just about to flip the tablet around so the rest of the children can see when his daughter leans closer to the tablet.

Cass's hand spams as she hisses. "Not Dead."

It takes a moment for Bruce to process her sharp words, blinking up at her. "What was that sweetheart?"

"Not. Dead," She repeats, pointing an accusing finger at Daniel's photo. "Not Human. Lures victims to death. Almost got me."

Well, that complicates this already confusing case a bit.

[https-lvesick]

♡ ⭑.ᐟ 엔시티 드림 . . “condom or not?”

content . . 𝜗𝜚 boyfriend!dream x fem!reader, pretty much what's on the title, breeding kink and (a lot of) mentions of babies

skye's notes .: i'm sorry for being so late anon :( but it's here! | requested

Mark | hit it raw

This man secretly harbors a breeding kink, even though the thought makes him nervous. You assure him it’s safe—you’re both careful, and your IUD is in place. When you sweetly ask him to go raw and fill you completely, he can’t resist. The moment he’s inside, feeling your warmth and tightness, something snaps, turning him into a beast. His control slips, and he pounds into you with wild abandon, driven by primal instincts and the dangerous thrill of the fantasy, pushing deep with a hunger that consumes him entirely. The only thing in his mind is to make you the mother of his child.

Renjun | protected

He’s cautious, knowing the stakes—too young, too soon for a baby—but it takes immense restraint when your body trembles under his touch, when you gush for him, and when your soft moans flood his senses. Listening to friends, especially Jeno, share stories of raw pleasure only stirs his imagination more. Still, he keeps his resolve. But temptation lingers. Just once—just this once—he thinks, surrendering to the intoxicating heat of the moment, hoping it won’t be the risk that finally breaks him.

Jeno | hit it raw

Jeno needs you entirely—body, mind, and soul. The way your pussy molds perfectly around him has ruined him for anything else; he craves you constantly. His high sex drive means filling you daily is as vital as breathing. You are his addiction, his necessity. If you ever suggest using a condom, the man might actually break down in tears—completely undone by the idea of losing the raw, intimate connection he treasures so deeply.

Haechan | hit it raw

From the moment you asked him to go without a condom, it awakened something in Hyeok—an unrestrained joy he could hardly contain. Since that day, stopping wasn’t an option. The sight of his release spilling from you, a visual reminder of the raw intimacy between you, ignites a primal, almost obsessive need in him. The idea that he could get you pregnant, even accidentally, feeds a quiet longing. And you? The thought of ever going back to protection feels impossible—you crave the fullness only he can give, again and again.

Jaemin | hit it raw

In the early days of your relationship, maybe there were condoms involved—maybe. But those didn’t last long. Jaemin’s obsession with seeing his release dripping out of you, his undeniable breeding kink, put an end to that. Suggesting condoms now would earn you a pointed glare at best. You trust him enough to go without, and the temptation to stop taking your pills grows stronger with every fantasy of starting a family together. But if he knew your thoughts, you’d never walk straight again—he’d make sure of it.

Chenle | hit it raw

The idea of you carrying his baby fuels his desire like nothing else—an intoxicating, feral obsession that drives Chenle to claim you with unrelenting intensity. Every thrust is filled with purpose, as though your futures depend on it, and you revel in his possessive hunger. You can’t resist the allure of his love and fixation, surrendering to his fervent need until you’re begging for more, lost in the ecstasy of his touch and the fevered promise that one day, he’ll finally give you everything you crave.

Jisung | protected

He’s too cautious to admit how badly he craves it—taking you raw, feeling every inch of you wrapped around him without barriers. The thought haunts his mind, even if the risk terrifies him. He knows if he got you pregnant before 25, you’d never let him live it down. But that doesn’t stop him from fantasizing: you, filled to the brim with his release, begging for more, utterly vulnerable under his touch. He trusts your pill, but maybe, just maybe, this time you’d finally say yes. Just once—could he ask?

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[unstoppablemidlife]

Embrace Your Desire: Become the Man You Were Meant to Be

More Than a Dream There comes a moment when a man realizes he’s meant for more. Maybe it’s a whisper in the back of his mind, a restless itch in his chest, or the emptiness he feels after another day stuck in a life that doesn’t inspire him. This isn’t delusion or fantasy. It’s desire—a raw, divine signal that you’re being called to evolve. This post isn’t just for dreamers. It’s for men who…

[tinytinyblogs]

You really scared me, sweetheart.

The moment they realize you're not where you belong

Hyung line, Maknae line

💬 Thanks so much for sending this! I hope this version hits just right for you. So… who’s reaction hit hardest for you? I’m always here to talk more if you want! Sending you good vibes today and always.

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

His hand reaches across the sheets in search of your warmth, expecting to find the familiar comfort of you lying beside him. But instead, all he finds is cold, empty space. Chan freezes, his breath hitching as dread begins to settle in his chest. Slowly, he sits up, heart already beating faster. His mind starts to spiral. Did you leave? Did he do something wrong? Was he not enough for you? Had you finally decided to walk away from him? His chest tightens, a wave of panic rising and clawing at his throat. He throws off the blankets in a rush, driven by fear more than reason. His bare feet hit the floor with a thud as he storms out of the bedroom, the pounding of his heart loud and urgent in his ears. The house feels too still, too silent, like the calm before a storm or the absence of something important. Then he hears it. Faint, but unmistakable. A soft humming. It’s coming from the kitchen. His feet move before he even has time to think. He follows the sound, driven by instinct and desperation, until he sees you standing there with your back turned. You are pouring coffee into two mugs. One for you, one for him. A simple, everyday moment—but to him, it feels like the most important sight in the world. The relief that washes over him is so intense it steals the air from his lungs. In just a few steps, he is behind you.

Without hesitation, he wraps his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you into his chest as if to prove to himself that you are real, that you are still here. He buries his face into the curve of your neck, breathing in your scent, grounding himself in your presence. "You scared me darling," he murmurs, voice hoarse with sleep and the raw edge of fear. You pause, slightly turning your head toward him. "Chan? What’s wrong?" His arms tighten around you, holding on like he’s afraid to let go. "Don’t disappear like that," he whispers, his lips brushing against your skin. "I thought you left me. I really thought… you were gone." There is a deep vulnerability in his voice, something so rare that it makes your heart ache. The strong, confident man reduced to soft pleas and trembling arms. You turn fully to face him and gently cup his face. "I was just making coffee," you say softly. "I’m not going anywhere." He searches your eyes, needing to believe your words. Then, with a shaky sigh, he presses his forehead to yours, holding you close like he never wants to let go. "Promise?" he asks, voice almost a whisper. You smile and press a kiss to his lips. "Promise." He exhales slowly, the tension in his body easing—but his arms remain locked around you. Because next time, he might not be so lucky. And he is not ready to take that chance again.

Minho

The moment he feels the cold emptiness beside him, Minho’s eyes fly open. His hand reaches out, searching blindly across the sheets for the warmth of your body. But there is nothing. Only the cool impression of where you once were. A wave of dread crashes over him, freezing him in place for just a second. Then rage flares, sharp and hot, mixing with pure fear. Where are you? Did you leave? Did someone take you? Or worse, did you finally decide that you did not want him anymore? He is out of bed in an instant, moving through the house like a storm ready to break. His steps are silent but heavy with purpose. Every shadow in the hallway feels like a threat, every creak in the floor a cruel reminder that something is wrong. His jaw tightens. His hands curl into fists at his sides, itching for something to grab, to break, to fight. The worst thoughts spiral in his head, until.. A small sound cuts through the tension. The quiet clink of a cat bowl. His head snaps toward the kitchen. He rounds the corner, muscles tense and breath shallow, ready for anything. What he sees brings him to a halt. You are kneeling on the floor, gently petting one of the cats as it eats. The soft hum of your voice floats through the air, completely unaware of the chaos he just fought through. It should calm him. It should bring peace. But it does not.

He stands in the doorway, chest rising and falling with slow, deliberate breaths as he tries to keep himself grounded. The panic is still there, sitting like a weight on his chest. For a long moment, he just watches you. Alive. Safe. Still here. And yet the image of waking up without you lingers like a nightmare he cannot shake. Then he moves. You only have time to gasp before he scoops you into his arms. One second you are on the floor, the next you are held tightly against his chest, weightless in his grasp. "Minho?!" you exclaim, startled. He says nothing. His silence is louder than any words. He carries you back to the bedroom with steady steps, not letting go for even a moment. When he sets you down on the bed, his voice finally breaks the silence. "You are not allowed to leave without me." His tone is calm, almost quiet, but his eyes burn with something fierce. He climbs into bed beside you, pulling you tightly into his embrace. One arm wraps around your waist like iron. "Go back to sleep baby," he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear. "I need you beside me." You do not argue. Not when his body trembles ever so slightly. Not when his heart pounds against your back. You sigh, letting yourself melt into his hold. He exhales a shaky breath and presses his face into your hair. But he does not let go. Because next time, he may not forgive so easily. And he will never risk losing you again.

Changbin

A deep growl vibrates in his chest before his eyes have even fully opened. His body reacts before his mind catches up, and his arm stretches across the bed, instinctively reaching for you. He needs the comfort of your warmth, the steady rise and fall of your breathing, the quiet proof that you are still there beside him. But his fingers grasp nothing but cold sheets. "You swore to me" Changbin growls under his breath, the words coming out rough and sharp. He sits up with a sudden jerk, his body tense with anger and confusion. His fist slams into the mattress, shaking the bedframe as frustration pours out of him in violent waves. You swore you would not leave. You promised. A thousand thoughts race through his head, each one more painful than the last. Had he scared you away? Had his possessiveness finally pushed you to your limit? Or worse, had something happened to you? Had someone taken you from him? The uncertainty drives him into action. He is on his feet in seconds, storming out of the bedroom with the force of a brewing storm. His shoulders crash into the edges of doorframes. His footsteps echo through the house, loud and angry, shaking the floor beneath him. A chair nearly topples over as he brushes past it without care. His breathing is ragged, furious, desperate. Where the hell are you? Then he hears it. The soft, low murmur of the television.

He freezes, his entire body going still as his head snaps toward the sound. His heart thunders in his chest. There you are. Curled up on the couch, dressed in your pajamas, a blanket thrown carelessly over your legs. You are lazily flipping through channels like it is just another peaceful morning. Like you had not just torn his heart in two by not being in his arms when he woke. He stares at you, unmoving, his pulse pounding in his ears. And then he moves. You barely have time to look up before he is standing over you, his body towering in front of the television, blocking the screen with his presence. His face is a mixture of fierce relief and simmering anger. "Changbin?" you begin to say. But your words are cut off as he pulls you into him with sudden force. His arms lock around your body, crushing you against his chest. The breath is nearly knocked from your lungs, but all you can feel is the desperate way he holds you. "God," he breathes, voice shaking as he buries his face in your neck. "I thought you were gone." He holds you like a man afraid to lose again. His grip is tight, trembling with leftover panic. "Binnie, I was just-" you begin softly. "Don’t," he whispers, tightening his hold. "Don’t scare me like that." The fear in his voice is raw, something vulnerable buried deep beneath his usual strength. It tugs at your heart. You bring a hand to his hair, stroking gently. "I’m not going anywhere," you murmur. He exhales slowly, the tension easing just a little. But he does not let go. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Because next time, he might not be so gentle.

Hyunjin

The moment his eyes blink open, Hyunjin’s hand automatically reaches across the sheets, seeking the warmth that always waits for him. But there is nothing. Just the cold press of empty space where you should be. His heart slams against his chest. You are gone. He sits up in a flash, a chill crawling down his spine. The blanket is tangled around his waist, the pillow beside him untouched. Panic begins to twist its claws into him. Did you leave? Did someone take you? Did you finally decide that loving him was too much? His thoughts spin out of control, every scenario worse than the last. He throws himself out of bed and tears through the house. Doors fly open. His gaze darts through rooms, scanning every dark corner like danger might be hiding there. Each breath feels harder than the last, and every second without you only tightens the grip around his lungs. "No, no, no" Then he hears it, the soft hum of an electric toothbrush. He stops. For a beat, he simply listens, stunned by the ordinary sound. Then he moves fast, footsteps silent but determined as he makes his way toward the bathroom. And there you are. Standing at the sink, completely unaware. Your toothbrush is in your hand, foam gathering at the corner of your mouth, your eyes still sleepy.

You do not see him at first, and for a fleeting moment, he watches you, chest heaving from the wave of emotion that just hit him. The relief comes fast, but something darker comes faster. In two long strides, he is behind you. His hands grab your waist firmly, spinning you to face him before you can react. "Hyunjin?" You barely get his name out before he crowds you against the counter, his body pressed flush against yours. His eyes are wild, dark with intensity, and his voice drops to a dangerous whisper. "If you ever make me think you left me again.. if you ever make me feel that fear.. I swear I will not let you leave my side," he says, voice low and fierce. Not even for a second. His grip tightens slightly as the words leave his mouth. You blink up at him, confused and startled, the toothbrush still held awkwardly between you. He does not wait for a reply. Without hesitation, he leans in and kisses you. It is not soft. It is not careful. It is raw and consuming, a clash of mint and desperation, of fear and fury. He kisses you like he is trying to brand the memory of you into himself, so he never feels that emptiness again. When he finally pulls back, his breath is uneven and his eyes still burn with emotion. He brushes your lip gently with his thumb. "Now finish up," he murmurs. "And get back to bed. Where you belong."

[4mrplumi]

crow choir: seven minutes min. three - nestling (batfam x neglected!reader)

ms. 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08

you begin to wither, wilt. days hidden under the sheets like a stain, bones turning to dust as they grind against each other when you shuffle and turn in bed. your nails grow to talons, your joints pulsing with restlessness. and nobody notices, nobody notices (name) becoming half man, half animal.

maybe you’re being dramatic. you weren’t entirely alone. you’d have been good as dead if you were, rotting away into a skeleton in your room.

a year after joining gotham prep, enough time to erode thirds your soul away, you'd made a friend. or something close-adjacent at least. she must've been new, nobody must've warned her, about the freak in a plastic bag. unfamiliar berry coloured lipgloss, you'd squinted when she stuck out a hand to you, new to gotham? who moves here on purpose?

it was a little jarring, to be treated the way she treated you. like a real person. at the start- you were terribly unsure how to react, doing nothing but glancing in her general direction when she addressed you. was she persistent or just stupid? you might’ve even found her stubbornness annoying at times, pulling away from her suspicious embraces and cringing at her comments.

sharing only three out of seven subjects, you two didn’t talk much in class. lunch breaks, after school extracurriculars, walking back home, those were the times you really got to talk. she’d introduced herself as reina, not giving you a last name, since you refused to give her yours. you don’t remember too much of what you’d discuss with her before your life “really began”. but you suppose it was enough for you, and dare you say it- reina grew on you.

back at home, where your birthdays had been celebrated with alfred and sometimes, when they were free, with your siblings or bruce, they’d brought you misery. you didn’t want to force them to feel happy for you, you wanted to laugh with them the way dick did, or have banter with tim the way damian had.

but you didn’t. a better alternative than those depressing sit-ins were wandering gotham in the evening with reina. she was well off- living in a gated society with her rich parents, so there was little fear about the dangers of the city in dusk.

it didn’t stop you. you’d scratch your knees climbing over the gate with her to run to her uncle’s block, far more authentic and loyal to the theme of the city that was boasted outside. mold-infested bricks, more puddles and potholes than pathways, and the only ‘safe-zones’ being public bathrooms. for a few moments, it’d feel familiar, it’d feel right.

this is how your life would’ve been, if your sister was still here, and you didn’t impose on the picture-perfect waynes. 

her uncle was unbothered with mostly everything, offering the two of you tester beers and cigarettes, that you’d accepted with great excitement. you weren’t too worried about the giddiness in your stomach, or the smoke that crawled down your throat and made you cough. reina’s uncle, terribly tipsy, had driven the two of you home when you’d mentioned it was too dark to walk back. a nice guy, really.

reina’s mother had yelled at him, and shooed you off (albeit a little more gently), but it’d been so exciting. you found yourself chasing that adrenaline more, the knowledge that you’d done something you’re not allowed to, made you giddy. you were a dumb kid with dumb luck, you wonder if things would’ve turned out different if your friend was any more disapproving of your antics.

you didn't have much support to fall back onto at home. you’d tried, seeing the way bruce and the others as a monolith trusted alfred and looked to him for counsel, by sharing a little bit of your feelings with him. but his advice? generic, boring, disappointing. it did you some good, gave you something to be frustrated with, distracting you from your feelings.

feelings that never really left. you think idly, how rot can't be painted over. and it festers, and grows, and becomes big, big, and bigger inside of you, but dull enough to ignore. just ignore it, it's not that important. you can barely notice it.

you cut through the dullness of your life with micro-doses of disobedience, chasing the high you got from it. you forgot to be careful at times, coming home well after midnight from some random house party to a surprisingly stressed alfred. but he forgets soon after a scolding, and so do you, opting to sneak in more carefully the next time.

reina picks fights with the kids in your school, and the way she doesn’t discourage you, you don’t put her down either. you sit in the counselor’s office together, biting back giggles at the teacher’s exasperated expression as he details your suspensions. reina’s parents excuse her tearfully, how could their darling daughter do such a thing? she wouldn’t hurt a fly... your father doesn’t even get to know. dumb luck.

reina and your reflection in the mirror watch your dull and heavy gaze turn refined, shining with a frightening ecstasy that hides away when it needs to. you observe yourself change, into easier smiles, laxer positions, less burdening animosity and more light-hearted viciousness. you appreciate your isolation from your family in these teenage years, giddy that they don’t know and can’t-do-nothing about what you do. you embrace the way you punish your family and the people around you by existing, become, again, what your foster parents called “difficult”.

you hit against their foundations, eroding their rocks, their boulder of a family. it'll take a while for them to feel it, centuries if you're lucky. you come undone, you quit withering.

it doesn’t go entirely unnoticed. dick calls you one day in june, after what feels like years of not talking to each other, asking if you wanted to head over to the old diner again and catch up. you note the tone he uses, coaxing, like trying to draw an untrusting dog out into the rain. you’re tempted to refuse, and choosing to be selfish, do refuse, with a knowing lilt to your voice, a quick “don’t try this with me.” he doesn't get to pity you, play good cop after leaving you in a cell for days. he should feel bad.

bruce- notices too. it’s harder to push him off. he ambushes you with small talk when you’re lounging in the living room, asking about school, your friends (you bite your cheek at the plural), and not much more. solemnly, he talks about how important it is to remain disciplined when you’re troubled, calm amidst the storm. you nod morosely, trying to convince him you think he’s aristotle-reborn.

but you don’t think they’ll intervene. they’re all too busy, too occupied elsewhere. you have a free run, and you’re not too willing to give it up voluntarily. you’ll wear nice dress suits and attend a few of the parties bruce holds in the manor for his associates, playing the part of a reformed pet-project child well, from stray dog to pedigree poodle, before you excuse yourself and flee the manor.

you sit on terraces near midnight with her, peeling your eyes open to catch sights of the mythical beast that was batman, and his stupidly-tricoloured minion. your sister’s little group of friends had come across them once, running off before they got caught too. she'd cursed out the boy and his "dumb clown shoes" and reserved her worst insults for the bat. you wonder; how is it that robin’s been a little boy for so long? maybe the two really are fairytales!

time moves on, and moves on, and moves on. you never end up “adapting” to wayne-manor life. your plastic bag of water’s just been relocated to a carnival, you’re a fish out of water somewhere you’re kind of meant to be. you find yourself thinking about your sister sometimes, wondering if things could’ve been different with her around. you don’t remember much of how she died, did she drown? if she was here, would you be able to do all this? you assume you wouldn’t be friends with reina, but maybe you’d fit in with the other few children who lived down the street! maybe you'd play with marbles, and split stale bread among each other.

(name), do you mourn what you never had?

the hard corners of your memories with her, your sister, begin to soften over time, as you choose to ignore the phantom calls of her screaming at you, and replace them with the sparingly loving comments she’d give you. you make up things about her, maybe she wore berry-coloured lip gloss like reina, or painted her nails black like that lady you'd see around, barbara gordon. what kind of clothes did she wear? you’d glace at cassandra’s baggy jeans and tim’s sneakers, maybe if she could afford it, she’d wear clothes like that. she becomes a blur of colours, and amalgamation of knowns and unknowns, she loses everything original to her, as time moves on and on and on.

you don’t want to impose on the waynes. but you want to be a part of them. you want to be beloved, someone to say something kind to you, like your sister would. what if she lived in the manor with you? it could’ve been a dream. things could’ve been so different, could’ve changed with just one different thing. one thing, ruined your whole life, your reflection tries not to point at you. 

but here you are, bird-watching gotham’s graying weather with reina, looking out for vibrant reds and deep blacks to fly across the sky like fireworks and flares. she hands you a can, some ridiculously branded energy drink that tastes like expired medicine, and you give it back to her after a gagging sip. you’ve accepted this life, almost content with it. the itch in your skin, the festering rot of your organs... they are smothered. wasting time on them will only make you waste away too. ignore it. stop noticing.

the third minute passes without anybody noticing.

˖ 𑣲 a/n: there's a time for everything. things get better before they get worse, and worse before they get better. why reina? these plots would realistically send the inserts to arkham if authors didn't give them a friend or an alfred imo. also i think the narrative just became a bit dramatic here but i think its fitting for a "finding yourself" sequence. ♡ anyway, thank you for reading!

taglist: @lettucel0ver @marsmabe @alishii @1abi @c4xcocoa @bbmgirll @sirenetheblogger @privatebumblebee @noone1233nobody @4ishere @mev-fizzah-writes @quack-a-vasion @myjumper @pix-stuff @callenreesevzx @cupid73 @nininehaaa @nisarelle @jjsmeowthie @ollyissleepy @uppersurper @angwngss @thatoneraeder @justonerandomreader @sadeem575 @theproblemisthatimnotfictional

[lowrisemiller]

a one - shot inspired by sabrina carpenter’s songs “busy woman” & “15 minutes”

harry castillo x younger!associate!fem reader

you’re busy. driven, polished, and far too focused to fall for a flirt like harry castillo—older, smug, and always one floor too close. but when a risky little challenge is whispered between meetings, you agree to play along… fifteen minutes on the clock, and he swears he can make you unravel.

masterlist | 2k words | I just watched masterlists and tbh plot was mid but harry was a whole snack & I wish he was in the film more so here ya go<33 | the pics don’t depict what reader looks like | desk/office sex , oral (f receiving) , dirty talk , light dom/sub vibe , age gap , unprotected piv sex , power dynamic

────────୨ৎ────────

You work on the twenty-third floor, executive communications, damage control, all the places where rookies go to die. Your office is tucked near the east windows, a strategic location that means you can look busy and in control while still seeing every move that happens on the floor below.

The twenty-second floor is legal strategy, crisis mitigation. Where the real sharks live.

That’s where Harry Castillo sits. Older, charming, always a little rumpled in that expensive-on-purpose kind of way. He talks like he’s too tired for games but plays them better than anyone. The man can dismantle a PR landmine with a half-sighed “let’s not be dramatic,” and somehow, the whole room listens.

You’re not dramatic. You’re busy.

Too busy for men who wear their shirt sleeves rolled halfway up their forearms like they know what that does. Too busy for the curve of a smirk that’s always half a second from being something more. Too busy for Harry Castillo.

Or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

You’re one of the youngest women to be promoted to associate director before thirty. A New York transfer, reputation sharpened by fire and caffeine and the kind of quiet ambition that doesn’t ask for praise. You have a master’s degree, a full calendar, and five different alerts going off in your brain at all times.

You don’t date. You don’t fuck in the office. You don’t entertain men who flirt like they’ve already undressed you.

Harry Castillo is nine years older. He’s been with the firm for over a decade. He’s good—frustratingly so. When you moved floors temporarily during a restructuring, he made one joke about your color-coded planner and you didn’t look him in the eye for three weeks. Not because you were offended. Because he noticed.

He always notices.

Today’s meeting is about the Devlin account: big-name celebrity, bigger-name scandal. You’re both on the call list for the 4:30.

It’s 4:14 when you hear the knock. Three quick raps on the glass door before it swings open, uninvited. That’s the kind of man he is.

“You’re not still rewriting that press draft, are you?”

You don’t look up from your laptop.

“Only the parts that read like a hostage letter.”

He grins. Saunters in, no tie, button-down sleeves rolled and collar open just enough to make your brain short-circuit for a second.

“Brutal,” he says. “Are you always this rude to your elders?”

You finally glance up, just long enough to let him see the faint smirk tugging at your mouth.

“Only the ones who act like they have something to prove.”

That makes him laugh. He leans against the edge of your desk like he owns the air between you. Like he can feel how it tightens.

“Fifteen minutes until Devlin,” he says. “You know what I could do in fifteen minutes?”

“Take a nap?”

“Make you come. More than once.”

You blink.

Then scoff.

“You’re disgusting.”

“You’re smiling.”

You bite your bottom lip before it curls up too much.

“I’m busy, Castillo.”

“I know. That’s what makes it fun.”

He glances at the clock on your wall. 4:16.

“I’ll make it interesting. If I win, you let me take you out. If I lose, I’ll file those awful transcripts you keep forgetting.”

You close your laptop slowly. Look up at him through thick lashes. There’s something dangerous behind your eyes, and he knows it. But he also knows you’re thinking about it.

“You’re serious.”

“Deadly.”

“You have fifteen minutes. If you make me late to this meeting looking like I’ve been fucked, I will destroy you in front of the board.”

“Fifteen minutes? Set a timer.”

You don’t move when he says it.

You just hold his gaze, daring him to break the tension first. He doesn’t.

Instead, Harry steps forward and pulls your chair away from your desk with one hand. You’re still sitting when he kneels in front of you, his tie long since discarded, sleeves cuffed to his elbows. His eyes flick up, dark and unreadable.

“You’re gonna be late to your own meeting,” you murmur.

“Then I better get started.”

You expect teasing. Slowness. A warm-up that never quite pays off. That’s what men like him do, isn’t it? Stretch it out. Make you beg.

But Harry Castillo is not like other men.

He pushes your knees apart, drags you to the edge of the seat, and kisses the inside of your thigh like it’s a fucking promise. By the time his mouth reaches your panties, you’re already wet and already irritated that he knows you are.

“Cute,” he says, voice low and gravelly. “Lace?”

“Shut up and—”

But you don’t get to finish. He’s already pulling them aside and licking up your slit, slow and deep like he’s starving. You gasp, hands flying to his shoulders as your hips jerk up on instinct.

“Still busy?” he asks against your cunt.

You try to snap something back, something cutting, but his mouth closes over your clit and all that comes out is a broken gasp.

It’s unfair how good he is. How focused. There’s nothing gentle in the way he eats you out he devours. Tongue pressing hard against you, then flicking fast, then sucking as two fingers slide into you with practiced ease.

Your head falls back, one hand fisting in his thick hair.

“Oh my—fuck—Harry—”

He hums. The vibration shoots straight through your spine. You bite your lip hard enough to sting, but it doesn’t help. Your thighs are already shaking.

You try to pull away—pride, stubbornness, you don’t know—but he grips your hips and growls:

“You’re gonna come, sweetheart. Don’t fight it.”

And fuck if you don’t. It builds fast, blinding. Your thighs clamped around his head, back arching as you moan his name like it’s been stuck on your tongue all month.

He doesn’t let up. Even when you come, even when your hips are twitching and you’re panting, he licks you through it—drags it out until you’re squirming and glassy-eyed.

“One,” he says with a smirk, rising to his feet.

You should be embarrassed. You should shove him away and demand he leave. But you just stare up at him, flushed and fucked-out, breathing hard.

He leans down. He kisses your jaw, the corner of your mouth. You taste yourself on his lips.

“Desk,” he murmurs.

“What?”

“Now. Bend over.”

You hesitate—half pride, half nerves.

He doesn’t repeat himself.

You stand on shaky legs, turn around, and brace your hands against the cool wood. You expect him to flip your skirt up and fuck you immediately, but instead he takes a second. Runs his hands over your ass. Whistles low.

“You know how long I’ve wanted you like this?”

“You talk too much,” you mutter, but it comes out breathless.

Harry chuckles. Then you feel the hard press of his cock against your bare ass as he leans over and whispers:

“You’re gonna be the one begging though.”

Then he pushes in.

No warning. No teasing.

Just thick, hard, deep. You gasp—almost choke—because it’s so much. Your hands scramble across the desk for something to grip.

“Jesus—Harry—”

“That’s right. Say it again.”

He pulls back and drives in harder. Your eyes roll. The desk creaks. Somewhere in the back of your mind you realize the meeting is about to start, but you don’t care.

You should.

But you don’t.

Because he’s fucking you like a man possessed—one hand in your hair, the other gripping your hip like he’s never letting go. Your nails dig into the wood. You feel him everywhere.

“You feel how tight you are?” he groans. “So fucking wet. Knew you’d be like this.”

You can’t think. Can’t breathe. Every snap of his hips sends lightning through your core. You feel another orgasm barreling toward you, and so does he.

He reaches around, finds your clit again, and rubs fast and filthy.

“Come on, baby. Give me one more. I know you can.”

And you do. It rips through you with no warning, no buildup—just white-hot bliss that leaves your legs trembling and your vision swimming. You come hard, mouth open in a silent scream, clenching around him until he growls something low and ragged.

“Fuck—fuck, I’m—”

He pulls out just in time, spills hot across your lower back with a sharp groan, hands braced on your hips.

Silence.

Just the sound of your breathing. Of your pulse. Of your pride, curled and wrecked beneath your ribs.

You hear him grab something—napkins from your drawer, probably—and gently wipe you off. He presses a kiss to your spine, right at the base of your neck.

“You okay?”

You nod, dazed.

He helps you up. He adjusts your skirt. He also fixes your hair for you in the reflection of the darkened window.

You glance at the clock.

4:29.

“Fuck you,” you mutter.

“Again?” he smirks.

You push past him and grab your laptop.

“If I’m late, I’m blaming you.”

“You’re glowing,” he says. “No one’s gonna believe you weren’t getting laid.”

You shoot him a look as you open the door.

“That was two, right?” he calls after you.

You don’t answer.

But your smile gives you away.

────────୨ৎ────────

🏷️ @zevrra @xodilfluvr @littlejoels @inbred-eater @grayandthyme @millersdoll

[thetrasha]

His Love Is…

STRAW HAT EDITION

LUFFY

...freeing.

Luffy lives wholly in the moment and seeks adventure, often attracting trouble wherever he goes. He is so unapologetically, authentically himself that nobody can help themselves – their true colours come forth around him; he brings out the best and the worst in people, depending on their personal moral compass. He is a beacon of hope, so bright and warm, so lively and wild. Anyone would believe in happiness and a purpose when travelling with him, but his forever allegiance lies with you because you complement him. You nurture his freedom-driven explorations because you believe in him, you believe in your friends and Luffy sparked that same assuredness in yourself, too. You were pulled into his world as soon as you met him, but neither of you expected you to merge your visions for a happy world. He made you feel hopeful, softer, kinder… you don’t have to pretend anymore. He knows that you’ve been so strong for too long. He’s seen it, that’s why he recruited you. That magnetic pull towards you was magical and it made him want to pursue a world where you wouldn’t have to hide to save face anymore. He wanted you to peer into his eyes and see you in them.

You deserve to be free.

ZORO

…thorough.

Zoro is a fiercely independent man who chases his dream and does everything he can to ensure that his end goal won’t be up to fate – his success, due to his efforts, can’t be measured in probabilities, they’re certainties. One of his core beliefs is that he’s the architect of his own future, that he can carve out his own path and mould the world to his liking if he just tries hard enough. He doesn’t care how arduous his chosen path is, he’ll gladly face every challenge and shoulder every bit of pain… since he’s confident enough that he won’t break under pressure. You’ve been an unmovable force, a damn thorn in his side, for quite some time now, you’re so stubborn in your care for him that he couldn’t help but perceive you – truly perceive you. He admired your spirit, acknowledged your quiet strength and continuos efforts. He sees himself mirrored in your soul because you’ve been with him so consistently. He’d adopted your habits without him noticing. Your presence makes him want to be a man you can be proud of. He’d promise to take better care of himself and try his best to be open about his emotions with you. He made you feel confident, whole and equal. He’ll take on your demons if you, as his equal, help him confront his.

You deserve to be protected.

USOPP

…kind.

People say that absence makes the heart grow fonder and you don’t quite understand that sentiment until Usopp isn’t around for you to lean on one day. Maybe he’s been assigned to stay back and watch the ship, maybe he’s looking at cute little trinkets near the harbour… whatever it is, you suddenly realise that Usopp is the glue that keeps this crew together. He is so open-minded and funny that everyone feels welcome in his presence; he turns your friend group into a community and he makes you feel included in every aspect of his life, shares every conversation with you and trusts you blind. He is devoted to your comfort because you look behind the carefully-constructed mask he wears, you take over when his social battery has run dry and you reassure him that both of his parents would be proud of the person he’s become. He feels a connection to you that goes beyond usual conventions. Most often, he cannot even put it into words how lucky he thinks he is. He is loyal to you and wants you to view him as part of your family. He dreams of watching you achieve your dreams with him as your forever home and save haven.

You deserve to be seen.

SANJI

…gentle.

Sanji loves to make people feel special and strives to do better. If he can put a smile on someone’s face, he’s done his deed and he lawfully approaches every day with the same quaint attitude. He knows that life can be hard – it can be so, so hard. That’s exactly why he cannot stand anyone piling onto someone else’s plight. Maybe that’s why he’s taken such a liking to you. You’re just like him, eager to make yourself useful and help your friends whenever you can… at the same time, just like him, you don’t see your own worth. A happy relationship grows out of an ironically selfish desire to make you see yourself for who you are. He naively thought that helping you would help him, but all it did was reveal your innermost thoughts and feelings and he found himself so in tune with you that he, as a hopeless romantic, finally felt like he’s found his match. Sanji can be intense and he knows it, you are great at communicating your likes and dislikes and he treasures your honestly. Knowing that he’s your safe place has him seeing stars whenever you’re near, you’re that important to him. Also, your sweetness only fuels his desire for a happy world, and he’ll be by your side for as long as you’ll have him.

You deserve to be cared for.

FRANKY

…exciting.

Franky knows that he’s unconventional. His life’s work literally breathed life into him and gave him a second chance at the game. His mind is so vast and feeds on his own curiosity and his longing for spectacular experiences. He is the heart of any party and entertains every joke, every conversation and loves seeing just how diverse people can be in personality and looks alike. It makes him feel less like an anomaly and more like an appreciator of surprises. He knows that he’s bold, passionate and confident, but you cared enough to explore all parts of his personality like it was second nature. You stuck around, watched him tinkering away well into the deep night when the mood turns sombre, and you never seemed to mind. No, when he went quiet, you started talking his ear off… just to cheer him up. That sold him on the idea of a relationship. He thinks so highly of you, thinks that your energy works super well with his natural charm and he adores bouncing off of different topics with your much appreciated input. You complete him in ways he didn’t think were possible. Your creativity and ideas for silly project make the gears in his head turn and before you know it, you’re both drafting up a blueprint for a gimmick nobody but you two would ever appreciate.

You deserve to smile.

BROOK

…deep.

Brook inspires people effortlessly. He encourages everyone to chase their dreams and stroll about the path of life at their own pace and on their own terms. He’s known hardships and he wishes to shield others from those feelings of melancholy and sorrow, even if he knows that working through every bit of pain gives one the tools to walk through life with a little more resilience. Still, he wishes to influence people with his music and give them a break from their everyday troubles, make them forget… it makes him feel useful, like he’s a part of something that makes being somewhat alive truly worth it. You saw right through that… immediately, too. You two were in complete harmony, you understood him wordlessly and the way you carried your own baggage with pride, shockingly, inspired him. You made him feel like his entire existence amounted to something. He longs for a soul-binding connection and a strong, secure relationship. Brook may need some time to trust and let go, but once he’s in, you’ve found a partner for life. He just wishes you’d look at yourself with the same innocent wonder you grace him with, laugh at your own jokes the way you laugh at his – you’re his muse, his everything. Life isn’t quite as scary when you’re with him, he knows that you can rely on each other as he slowly copes with his decades old loneliness with you by his side.

You deserve to trust.

JINBE

...easy.

Jinbe was so wise, so admirable, so… him. It was impossible to not feel secure in his presence. He’d always been naturally observant and thus, caring for others is second nature to him. Expressing his emotions isn’t a matter of pride for him, he’s just so easy-going and calm that he may seem cold to those who don’t know him, but his heart is always set aflame from passion alone. He feels and thinks deeply about others, engages in soul-searching conversation and never shies away from giving a good piece of advice to those who might want it. Without even thinking about it, he started taking care of you and remembered the little things that mattered – he wasn’t just available, he was there. Jinbe made you feel like your problems didn’t matter so much, he’s seen you through your highest highs and lowest lows, and it didn’t matter once. He only saw your heart, your soul, your mind… and he adored it all, no matter what you thought about it. You were a part of his crew, his friends, his family… knowing that you were just as fond of him as he was of you was a blessing. His love is mature, deeply respectful, and binds your souls together. You feel as though you are one.

You deserve to heal.

[trashytracktales]

i know we've talked about lando's freaky things a lot, but i want a T's Freaky Lando Agenda too! maybe you have new updates about it 😋

I love how dramatic y’all get the second it takes me a bit longer to come up with these (I know I am slow though, forgive meee), but it’s honestly so endearing to see. I hope this one lives up to expectations, because after all the waiting, you freaks deserve it 💋

With the mention that I might repeat myself here and there, I finally present you:

𝗧’𝘀 𝗙𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝘆 𝗟𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼 𝗔𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗮

𝗜𝗻 𝗯𝗲𝗱

✦ Lando’s very versatile, cocky, and driven by validation. He gets off on your reactions, praise, begging, and moans.

✦ Mouthy; he talks you through it a lot, whether it’s praise, filth, and especially teasing. As expected, he doesn’t stop at words. He kisses like he needs it to breathe, and he eats like he means it. Because your pleasure is something he devours, literally and verbally.

✦ A pleaser, sure, but also a menace. He’ll edge you on purpose, pulling away right as you’re about to finish. If he lets you gather your senses, it’s because he wants to do it all over again.

✦ Those damn hands. Everywhere. The man can’t and won’t stay still. He’s like a hyperactive kid on a sugar rush (must be the Kinder), and needs to touch, grip, and hold like it’s second nature.

✦ Eye contact ends him in the best way possible, but he’s even worse about your expressions. Will even pause mid-thrust just to tell you that “There it is. That’s the one.”

✦ He likes it messy. Saliva, sweat, the slick sounds of skin. Finishing on your chest or stomach is a must. If it’s your back, he’ll trace it with his finger after, because he has no shame when it comes to claiming.

𝗧𝘂𝗿𝗻-𝗼𝗻𝘀

✦ As mentioned, the good ol’ eye contact. The wheels inside his head never stop spinning, and if you hold it for long enough, he’ll know. Loves it especially when you look UP at him (preferably from your knees).

✦ Moaning (his name). Say it sweet, say it sobbing, but most importantly, say it repeatedly when you’re clenching around him; he will rampage. Bonus points if you’re loud.

✦ Messy kisses.

✦ Neck kisses; while he’s a pro at devouring, he’s as obsessed when you kiss or suck on his neck while riding him.

✦ Since we’re on riding, power dynamics shift. Take control and TRY TO pin him down. Drives him insane if he doesn’t see it coming.

✦ Slight bratty behavior, because he lives for the challenge.

✦ Physical contrast; being shorter/smaller awakens something inside him. His hand is double the size and loves watching how his fingers slide in and stretch you out, because he knows exactly how to use them. One hand can cover nearly all of your lower back, and his palm wraps around your throat with ease. All these make him feel more in control (and he’ll absolutely tease you about it).

✦ Wearing his clothes, but in particular you in his hoodie (and nothing else). Walk into the room like that and he’s already pulling the hoodie up from behind to see your ass jiggle. This man has no peace in his soul. Also, sundresses, tennis skirts, crop tops and anything that ride up. You wore that knowing I’d see you, yeah? 🙏🏻🧎🏼‍♀️

✦ When you’re enjoying yourself (and he’s the reason why). Drives him insane when he realizes how close you are. Like, hand over your mouth, shit, that’s it, don’t stop now insane.

✦ Any accidental touches. I love this in particular, because it’s so innocent. Until it isn’t. Hand on his thigh, brushing fingers during gaming, laying on his chest and your lips graze his neck etc. He might act cool, but he gets hard so quickly, it’s embarrassing.

✦ Playful arguing, because it gives him a reason to put you in your place.

𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘀

✦ Let’s pretend y’all didn’t see this coming: praise kink. Because your approval is a drug. Call him a good boy and he’ll do anything to prove you right.

✦ Size kink but both ways (ik, shocking). You straddling him and calling him too deep while he insists you can take it.

✦ Jealousy kink (he’s a bit toxic, I ain’t gonna lie). Hates when someone else flirts with you, but finds ways to use that as ammo. He’ll give you that look, then make you sit on his face like it’s a punishment. To remind you exactly whose you are.

✦ That being said, face riding. His favorite meal, actually. He’ll grab your thighs and pull you down with no hesitation, eating you out like it’s his last time.

✦ Overstimulation. You beg him to stop and he coos, Just one more, baby. I promise. Be good for me.

✦ Recording you. Do I need to elaborate?

✦ Mirror sex, because he loves to watch and loves watching you watch.

𝗙𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀

✦ Cowgirl & reverse cowgirl, because he’s the biggest fan of watching you take what you need from him. This comes with a warning though: he’ll let you take the lead unless you start teasing too much.

✦ Doggy when he’s feeling rough. One hand pressing your back down, the other fisting your hair or rubbing your clit.

✦ Against the wall, while keeping eye contact. This is unplanned sex, therefore his patience is nonexistent.

✦ Missionary but make it nasty. Legs over his shoulders, face buried in your neck etc.

✦ Side position. His dirty talk is extra sweet in this one, aw.

𝗘𝘅𝘁𝗿𝗮 𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗰𝗲

(things people usually overlook)

✦ Loves when you tug his curls, especially when he’s eating you out. Grind on his face and moan his name while at it.

✦ He’s very vocal.

✦ Fan of mutual stripping.

𝗔𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲

✦ Cleans after himself, no debate.

✦ Big spoon mode, while he kisses your shoulders and whispers how good you were. Tangles you up in his limbs, one arm under your neck, one leg thrown over your thigh. Just so you know, you’re not going anywhere, and he makes sure you feel wrapped up and safe ♥︎

✦ Falls asleep so quickly.

✦ Check-ins the morning after.

[tom-whore-dleston]

Can I Keep You?

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x barista!f. reader

Word Count: 1.3k

This fic includes: minor spoilers from Thunderbolts*, fluff (so much of it), Bob playing with dogs, flirting, Bob is awkward baby boi until he's not, Bob and reader hold hands

Summary: You loved working as a barista at a dog cafe and Bob gives you another reason to love your job.

Notes: ahhhh the chokehold this sweet man has on me sadjgahgsg Bob is gonna be my new favorite to write for bc I had so much fun with this piece! Please continue to feed my growing love for Bob by sending requests, thots, concepts, literally anything and everything!!

request: Saw your thunderbolts post and just wanted to say - me too!! Could I have a piece on Bob x Reader at a Dog Cafe (if it’s ok) because he needs all the cuddles he can get! Thank you -@blackbat05

Being a barista at the new dog cafe has already brought so much joy to your life. You found purpose in combining two things you love, coffee and dogs, into a profession. A fun profession that didn’t feel like work to you. 

You had already anticipated today to be like any other Saturday with the typical rush of caffeine-driven dog enthusiasts waiting for their turn to play with pooches with their favorite drink. While your predictions came true, you had not expected to become flustered when a tall, brown-haired man approached the counter upon calling the name ‘Bob’. He flashed a smile so stunning, you could have fainted as he stopped in front of the counter.

“Hi!” you blurted with a toothy grin. “Vanilla latte with oat milk?”

Bob nodded, “Yep, that’s me.” His hand reached out for the styrofoam cup and you gulped upon noticing how large and veiny it was. You hid your nervousness behind another trained customer service smile. 

“Awesome! Hope you enjoy your drink and have fun with the pups.” The world stopped around you as his fingers brushed against yours as you extended the drink out to him. Your face warmed up feeling the softness of his fingers, imagining them interlaced with yours. As he gingerly held the hot latte, you desperately wished that you had more time to memorize the feel of his fingers against yours.

“Thank you!” Bob responded cheerfully before turning to find a dog to curl up next to him. You watched as a corgi and maltese ran towards the tall man, giggling to yourself as the energetic dogs attempted to jump as high as they could but only getting as high as his knees. He beamed upon noticing the dogs fighting for his attention, his voice raising a pitch to match their little yaps. You snapped out of your intense gaze on Bob when your supervisor called your name for the third time.  

“Huh, what?” You turned towards them dumbfounded, and you realized they had been needing the can of whipped cream on your side.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were asking me to give you the whipped cream.” As you fetched the item, you peeked a glance at Bob through the glass. The corgi and maltese were licking his face, causing him to burst into a fit of laughter so contagious you couldn’t help but laugh yourself. You didn’t pay attention to your supervisor finding the source of your distraction, responding with a knowing hum.

“Go ahead and take 30.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, no worries, I’ll cover for you. Just go talk to him instead of gawking like a love struck teenager.” The other baristas eavesdropping snickered while exchanging glances with one another.

“Who?” You asked, playing coy.

“Oh my gosh, just go before I put you on dish duty!” Your supervisor jokingly threatened and you scurried to rip the apron off your uniform while walking towards the employee door.

Once you clocked out and removed your apron, you walked out onto the cafe floor, a herd of dogs racing towards you in hopes to receive treats. Amongst the adorable chaos, you caught Bob’s attention who was rubbing the tummy of the corgi laying across his lap. You fought against the thought of being the one with your head in his lap while he smooths your hair. Behind the counter, you could sense your coworkers spying on you while pretending to be busy. Ignoring them, you gathered the courage to join Bob on the floor, keeping your eyes on the corgi starting to doze off from Bob’s petting.

“I see you met Maggie,” you started, causing Bob to meet your gaze. 

Bob smiled, “Yeah, I think I’m her new best friend.” Now that Maggie was fast asleep in his lap, Bob seized the opportunity to take a sip of his lukewarm latte. “By the way, this is the best coffee I’ve ever had. I give my compliments to the barista.”

Your cheeks warmed up again, heartbeat thumping a little faster. “That would be me.”

“I know, I watched you make it.” Your head tilted to the side, studying if he was serious or not. Bob gave a bashful look, letting out a short, nervous laugh. “Sorry, that must’ve sounded weird to you. I didn’t expect someone so pretty like you to come talk to me, let alone even see me. I mean, I’m having a blast with the dogs, especially Maggie. I’d have never guessed I’d be sitting and talking with the cute barista that made my latte.” As he blabbered on, your smile grew, and you chuckled at how his cute face became a tinted pink.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry, I-”

“No need to apologize. I think it’s sweet.” You reassured him, gently caressing his hand over Maggie’s rising chest. “If it means anything to you, I’m taking my break now so I could talk to you. My supervisor caught me getting distracted by you…but in a good way.”

Bob sighed a breath of relief, then cleared his throat before extending his hand out to you. “I’m Bob, by the way.”

“I know.” You responded before taking his hand in yours and sharing your name with him. A gesture as simple as a handshake felt electrifying between you two. You hoped this moment with Bob would never end so you wouldn’t have to hear your coworkers’ endless teasing. On top of that, 30 minutes wasn’t enough to learn about the man you and Maggie have grown a soft spot for.

Nevertheless, you spent the remainder of your break getting to know each other, actively listening to what stories you both had to share. You held your composure upon learning that Bob was now a part of The New Avengers, as you have become a fan of them from reading news articles and listening to podcasts about them. It even broke your heart after he shared parts of his past with you. He allowed you to take his hand in yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. 

“I liked this. I wish you didn’t have to go back to work so soon because I really enjoyed getting to know you.” Bob frowned, head bowing down towards his empty coffee cup. 

“Me too. You’re like the dogs here, just want to keep them all and spend all the time in the world with them.”

“I’d keep you too. And spend all the time with you.” The background noise drowned out around you as your eyes got lost in his. Suddenly, Bob removed the sleeve from his cup, tearing it in half with ease. It was the hottest thing you have seen in a while. 

“Let’s exchange numbers. I’d like to take you out on a date tonight and I’d hate to keep you from work.” His voice sounded so confident and cool that your stomach did flips inside you.

“Yes, I’d love that!” You fished around in your pocket for a permanent marker, jotting down your name and number for him. You gave him the marker and your torn up part of the coffee cup sleeve. After he finished writing his number down, he handed you his portion of the ripped paper and your marker.

“Well, I better get going. Bucky and Yelena are gonna send a search party for me and I think your boss is side-eyeing me.” You glanced over at the counter, and your supervisor whipped their head around whisking a matcha in their bowl. Bob was already standing, and he helped you to your feet. You could never get tired of feeling how soft his hands were. 

“It was nice meeting you, Bob!” Your hand was still attached to his, neither of you ready to let go.

“Likewise, sweetheart.” You wanted to melt into the floor. “Thanks again for the coffee.” He swiftly brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles lightly. You were speechless as he gently dropped your hand to your side, winked at you, and headed towards the exit. Everything happened so fast, you didn’t get a chance to react until you were in the bathroom washing the hands that were once touched and kissed by Bob. Once you were back behind the espresso machine, you felt your phone vibrate in your back pocket, smiling to yourself already knowing who the text notification was from.

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[starfata]

Athenide AU

People who know of Perseleia Athenide sometimes- get inspired by Percy.

A child of Apollo once used Percy's turn to run sword training class as inspiration for a painting of Perseleia. A child of Athena used Percy's colouring and favourite blue in a tapestry. A child of Aphrodite designed and made several items for Perseleia which would look very good on Percy. Castor and Pollux wrote a play, and several things they've heard Percy say, first and second hand through other campers, are in the dialogue.

One of the people in Sally's creative writing class studied Greek mythology, and is working on a rewrite of Perseleia's myths as a novel. After seeing Percy, they're especially inspired. They think it's the juxtaposition of how young and fit Percy is and the grey streaks in her hair, which Sally passes off as a bleaching disaster Percy has chosen to live with.

A random photography student caught a picture of Percy walking down a street with both a fox and an owl in the frame. The fox and owl are clearer than she is, just the shape of a girl with black hair and a shadow that might be a weapon. When looking up fox owl myths, the student found the perfect title- Perseleia.

When looking through pictures of an ill fated field trip to an Aquarium that ended in an unexpected swim, one of the chaperones finds a brilliant picture of the child responsible in front of the sea otters. Sadly, Percy is already gone from the school and it'd be awkward to try get in contact for a picture, of all things- so the chaperone keeps it. Years later, when their own child is in a Greek mythology phase and they learn about Many, Many Gods and Goddeses they hadn't before, they learn about one who had otters as a sacred animal. Digging out that picture, they use it as art reference for a birthday gift.

A yellow nosed albatross was caught in a photo by a tourist at sunrise, a girl in the background standing in the light as she faced the sea- away from the camera. One of the tourist's friends used the photograph as inspiration for a mosaic.

An art student catches sight of Percy admiring a sunset- creates a portrait of Apollo painting the sunset, and Perseleia looking on.

A script writer, only in town to visit family, sees a girl who looks like she stepped out of a myth marching like she's going to war. The grim purpose on the girls face makes them think of a plot twist- what if Perseleia's refusal of Apollo was driven by duty? Doomed romance, Greek tragedy- excellent B-plot in the script they're writing, of a man on a quest to deliver a gift.