#ugh winning is so nice though...

[lasmari]

shared a table at the uni restaurant with this tall, cool and extroverted lesbian that's two years older than me and i actually managed to strike up a conversation with her

[adore-gregor]

ugh there it goes

[corv-idae]

Trying to be a treadmill girlie and it’s so fullfilling but so hard also

Like yay! Yippee!! I love giving blood flow to my body & actively look forward to doing 30-45 minutes of a treadmill workout but also I could be laying down

Thank god for this treadmill strut playlist

[xoxojisu]

DOES HE LIKE ME?

synopsis: it's hard to tell whether kirishima likes you or you're just delusional and crazy. (<3)

notes: RAHHHH KIRISHIMA

you think kirishima is nice.

and not just the kind of nice that gives polite smiles that don’t reach their eyes or asks how your day went out of courtesy.

he’s the kind of nice that beams when you walk into a room, like he's genuinely happy to see you. like you’re the best thing he’s seen all day. the kind that actually wants to hear about your day, listens attentively, and remembers the little things you say weeks later. the kind that makes you feel seen and cared for.

he’s not just nice, though. he’s kind. his heart feels like something soft and steady. warm, like sunlight in the winter. he’s the kind of person who makes the air feel lighter just by being around.

you like kirishima.

he’s sweet. he’s driven. he has this way of making people feel like they belong. he notices things most people don’t, too. like when your hands are cold or when your voice sounds just a little off.

he offers you his hoodie without you having to ask, always drives you home and walks you to the door. when he can't, he always says, “text me when you’re home, okay?” in that sincere, slightly worried way of his.

he encourages you like he means it. like he actually believes you can do amazing things. and somehow, he makes you start believing it too.

he comforts you just right when you cry. big, strong arms that make you feel like maybe the world isn’t so scary. and when he compliments you, it’s never just about how you look, or other random surface-level tidbits. it’s about things that matter. things you didn’t even know he noticed.

he makes you want to be better. for yourself. for him. for the version of you he seems to see already.

kirishima really is nice.

but honestly? that’s the problem.

because kirishima being so nice means he's nice to everyone.

he holds the door open for you, yeah, but he holds it for every person coming in behind you, too. he hugs you tightly when you’re laughing at something stupid, but he also throws himself at bakugo when he wins a spar. he compliments you on your work, your strength, your progress, but he does the same for mina, sero, kaminari.

so, are you special? or are you just delusional?

you think he must like you when he throws his arm around your shoulders during movie night. when he leans in close and whispers dumb commentary that makes you giggle. when his knee touches yours and he doesn’t pull away.

but then you see the way he is with everyone else. the double high-fives. the bright encouragements. the constant attention.

and it drives you insane. especially on nights when you can’t sleep. when you’re tossing in bed, overthinking every moment.

is he just that kind of guy? are you special? ugh, you don't know!

-

“great job, y/n! you’re seriously improving like crazy!” kirishima runs up to you, grinning from ear to ear.

it’s a hero training day, so everyone’s in costume. which, for him, means… basically shirtless. his abs are fully out, and his hero gear leaves basically nothing to the imagination.

you try not to stare. really, you do.

but his abs are ridiculous. like, sculpted-by-the-gods levels of ridiculous. and it’s not even just that they’re attractive! though, let’s be honest, they are. it’s the fact that you know how hard he’s worked for them.

it’s not just vanity. his whole body is a reflection of his drive. his passion. his determination to be strong enough to protect people.

it’s hot. unreasonably so.

you're still staring when you realize kirishima’s voice has trailed off mid-sentence.

your stomach drops. shit. you were definitely caught staring.

panic floods your system as you slowly lift your eyes to meet his, expecting him to look uncomfortable. weirded out. maybe even disappointed in you.

but then your gaze meets his.

oh.

he’s blushing. hard. like, cheeks-the-same-color-as-his-hair kind of blushing.

he opens his mouth, closes it again, then laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

“u-um... like i was saying, you’re seriously..! uh.. wait, what was i saying again?”

you blink.

he looks flustered. visibly flustered. but there’s still a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. like he’s embarrassed. but also… kinda happy?

he shakes his head and then, very softly, says, “it’s, uh… kinda hard to focus when you look at me like that, y’know?”

your heart lurches.

and suddenly, it clicks.

he does hold the door open for others, yeah, but he runs to you right after.

he’s touchy with everyone, sure but with you, it’s different. slower. softer. intentional.

he gives compliments like candy, yes, but the ones he gives you? they’re layered. specific. personal. like he really pays special attention to you.

he’s watching. he’s listening.

you like kirishima eijirou.

but it turns out that kirishima eijirou might like you too.

masterlist

[kxsagi]

Could you do something about the Blue Lock Boys with a girlfriend who practices a sport like Muay Thai or boxing professionally and is quite famous for dragging her opponents? 💘

“𝐊𝐎: 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝”

a/n: get em girl boss

ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, kaiser michael, karasu tabito, bachira meguru, shidou ryusei

itoshi rin

silently obsessed. he never says anything, but you catch him rewinding your fight clips with laser focus like he’s decoding national secrets. 

“your weight distribution was off by 3% in round two.” bro how do you even know that? 

secretly has your “top 10 verbal takedowns” saved to his phone. watches them when he needs cheering up. 

he’s not impressed when you trash talk. he’s turned on. 

you call someone “a wet mop with delusions” and he just raises an eyebrow like, hot. 

refuses to sit in the VIP section, instead sits in the back so no one sees how fast he’s clapping when you land a KO. 

“that punch was sloppy.” five minutes later in private: “... you looked good though.” 

itoshi sae

you could be dragging your opponent across the ring by their hair and sae would still be in the front row sipping iced coffee like it’s a spa day. 

literally unfazed. she’s choking someone? cool. what’s for dinner? 

sometimes you don’t even notice he’s there until he shows up behind you post-match like, “hey. you’re bleeding. want tacos?” 

thinks your trash talk is theatrical brilliance. 

“she said ‘i’m gonna turn you into a cautionary tale’ and then actually did. love that for her.” 

got banned from interviews because he kept answering on your behalf. “how do you feel about the win?” “she’s hungry. move.” 

you're punching people, he's posting “date night ❤️” selfies. 

isagi yoichi

isagi fell for your smile. the public fell for your fists. 

he watches your matches like he’s witnessing a crime. jaw clenched, eyes wide, muttering prayers like a soccer mom watching an MMA bloodbath. 

you’re standing over your KO’d opponent, shouting, “tell your coach to pick better fighters,” and he’s clapping like “yay baby good sportsmanship 👍” 

pre-fight: “good luck, you got this ❤️” 

post-fight: googling how to hide a body because you just ended someone's career. 

once tried to “trash talk” your rival to hype you up and said, “you’re gonna get dropped so hard, your sponsors are gonna ghost you. better hope your wifi connection is stronger than your jaw.” 

kisses your bruised knuckles gently like you’re a porcelain doll, not the reason three people retired early. 

nagi seishiro

doesn’t understand anything about boxing but calls you “champ” with his whole chest. 

falls asleep watching your replays. wakes up like, “oh nice punch babe.” 

once live-tweeted your match with absolutely zero context: “she kicked someone. she’s mad. i want a sandwich.” 

wore your merch to your match, but accidentally put it on backwards. 

lets you practice moves on him but flops like a ragdoll after one jab. “ugh too hard. let me lay here. i’m your emotional support floor.” 

told the team your pre-fight stare “felt like being hunted by a hot panther.” 

thinks your trash talk is poetry. “you said she hits like a toddler with pool noodles? iconic.” 

mikage reo

you’re the fists, he’s the PR team. this man markets your violence like a startup. 

“she punches, she profits, she slays. watch the brand grow.” 

always wearing your custom gloves around his neck like a necklace. people think he boxes, too. he does not. 

posts ringside selfies with captions like: “date night 🥰✨ (she sent someone to the ER xoxo)” 

gets personally offended when your opponent breathes in your direction. 

“did she just look at you funny? okay, but WHO gave her that right.” 

hands out business cards that say “a maneater’s boyfriend 💋” 

has your catchphrases trademarked. yes, even the one where you threatened to turn someone’s ribs into origami. 

kaiser michael

somehow thinks your fights are about him. 

“she wins because she’s inspired by my greatness.” kaiser pls. 

stands ringside with his arms crossed and a smirk like he’s the final boss of the match. 

you said “i’m gonna fold her like a beach chair” and he printed it on a hoodie. wears it proudly. 

reporters: “kaiser, are you afraid of your girlfriend’s aggression?” 

kaiser: “afraid? i fuel it.” 

makes you couple’s merch that says “she hits / he hollas” 

once kissed you mid-match. literally interrupted the referee. said it was “good luck.” you still won. 

karasu tabito

you flame someone during weigh-ins and he’s behind you whispering, “YEAH. GET HER ASS.” 

follows your rival’s private account on twitter just to “hate more efficiently.” 

“i’m not petty. i’m supportive.” 

once shouted “THAT’S MY GIRLFRIEND!!!” when you dislocated someone’s shoulder. 

analyzes your fights like a reality show. “did you see her face when you landed that hook? chef’s kiss.” 

lets you demonstrate chokeholds on him just so he can say, “yeah, she does this to me at home, too.” 

acts scared around you for fun. “i told her i forgot to do the dishes and she did a spinning elbow. i think i blacked out. she’s so cute.” 

bachira meguru

paints your face on a flag. brings it to every match. 

screams “GET HER, BABE! TURN HER INTO A HUMAN PRETZEL!!” from the sidelines. 

once tried to jump into the ring mid-fight because “your foot looked lonely. i wanted to help.” 

you: death glares your opponent pre-match. 

bachira: “aw she’s so pretty when she’s homicidal 🥰” 

makes you fan edits that go viral. 

also made one of your KO punches into a meme template. it’s now used in sports arguments across the internet. 

your opponent: “you suck.” 

bachira, holding up a glitter sign: “say that again but louder so everyone can hear my girlfriend crack your jaw.” 

shidou ryusei

lives for the chaos. you throw one punch and he’s tearing his shirt off in the stands. 

“THAT’S MY GIRL!!! KICK HER IN THE TEETH!!!” 

got banned from five venues for excessive screaming. wears it like a badge of honor. 

tried to propose mid-fight once. while you were punching someone. 

rewatches your KO clips with suspicious enthusiasm. “look at that form. look at that power. i’m so in love with her violence.” 

also calls you pet names like “bloodthirsty babe” and “my precious little war crime.” 

100% believes you could take him in a fight. wants you to prove it. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 RATHER LIE aeri uchinaga x reader

౨ৎ warnings: yn and aeri from luxurious (read it first), popular mean girl x loser athlete, swearing, yn plays soccer(football or wtv I don’t care honestly) and aeri is super rich, aeri’s parents , angst, fluff

aeri liked to think of herself as a simple girl she liked attention, shopping, money, and her friends. sometimes her friends. and the only thing she truly despised was-

her girlfriend she hated the way yn laughed at her own jokes, even when they weren’t funny. she hated her stupidly adorable smile, the one that made aeri’s heart do that annoying thing. she hated how, no matter how busy she was with soccer, she always made time for aeri. she hated her clueless dumb jock tendencies, the way she was somehow both the most awkward person alive and the most attractive. she hated the way she got into fights on the field, she hated how she never stood up for herself, even though she was literally the most award winning athlete in the entire school or the way she’s looking at her right now.

soft. amused. completely, utterly in love.

“stop looking at me like that” the pink haired girl grumbled.

yn blinked, tilting her head. “like what?”

“ugh.” aeri groaned, reaching out to pinch one of the dimples on yn’s cheek. “you’re too cute. it’s disgusting. leave me alone.”

yn only grinned wider, dimples deepening as she wrapped her arms around aeri’s waist and pulled her close.

aeri let out a dramatic sigh.

okay. maybe she didn’t actually despise her girlfriend.

“how was practice?” aeri asked yn looking up at her as yn let go out her and raised up from her bed walking towards aeri’s closet, looking for some of the clothes she left there.

“it was good,” aeri watched as yn pulled her jersey over her head and pulled on of her sweaters, “coach wasn’t as hard on me as usual today,”

aeri sighed her gaze never leaving yn as yn moved around her aeri’s room, “I don’t like how you call him coach and not dad, is that what you’ve been calling him since you were born in something?”

yn laughed softly, crawling back onto the bed “I call him dad dummy, just not when I’m talking about soccer.”

aeri’s gaze never wavered from yn, watching her girlfriend pull a hair tie off her wrist and start to tie her hair up. she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “what did I tell you about this?” aeri tossed her pink scrunchie at yn with a smirk. “you’re supposed to wear mine. shows people you’re off the market.”

yn caught the scrunchie with ease, the corners of her lips tugging up in a teasing grin. “sorry, princess.” she slipped the scrunchie onto her hair, securing it before leaning back, arms behind her head, all casual like she wasn’t the most adorable thing in a ten mile radius.

aeri’s eyes lingered a little longer than necessary before she laid down beside yn, letting her head rest on the girl’s exposed arm. “so... about your dad—sorry, coach, he was... nice today?”

“yeah, surprisingly,” yn responded with a shrug, her voice flat. “coach was cool for once. usually, after a game, he’s up my ass about something, but today? he actually chill. don’t get used to it though. tomorrow, he’ll be back on my case.” she turned her head slightly, brow furrowing. “but seriously, what’s with all the questions about my parents? first it’s my mom yesterday , now you’re asking about my dad? what’s going on?”

it was true, this whole week, aeri had been obsessively asking about family. it freaked yn out because aeri was never one to talk about anything even remotely close to family.

the truth? aeri’s parents were back in town, and it had her on edge. they didn’t know about her relationship with yn, and aeri didn’t think they’d exactly be thrilled about it. as much as she adored yn, her clumsy, awkward, adorable, bruised up soccer player, she couldn’t help but wonder how her parents would react. 

she’s not exactly the polished, picture perfect girl they’d probably expect for their daughter, they already had a hard time digesting that she liked girls. aeri might love yn more than anything, but she also knew her family wouldn’t exactly appreciate the bruises on her arms and legs or the fact that yn’s idea of a “good time” getting into fights on the field.

aeri stared at yn for a few seconds, her mind racing, trying to figure out how to express everything she’d been feeling, but the words just wouldn’t come. finally, she shrugged, attempting to mask the unease, “no reason. just... gotta stay updated on family stuff, you know?”

yn laughed, clearly not picking up on the way aeri’s shoulders stiffened, “oh, should I keep up with yours too, then?”

the casual tone only made aeri’s pulse spike. she forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“all you have to do is check the internet,” aeri joked, her voice light, the tension in her chest slowly easing as yn let out a small laugh in response before shifting the subject.

aeri stood stiff at the doorway, eyes fixed on the sleek black car as it pulled up the drive. her parents stepped out like they owned the place, because they did, and aeri felt her jaw tighten.

“aeri! my darling,” her mother’s voice rang out before she even reached the steps. aeri barely had time to roll her eyes before her mother was cupping her face, manicured fingers already fussing. “oh honey, what happened? you look exhausted. and your hair, pink? I told you to stop at blonde.”

aeri brushed her hands away with a practiced flick, already annoyed. it was yn who suggested the pink, in her girlfriend’s words “I think having a pink haired girlfriend would be really hot.” and honestly? aeri kinda loved it.

“leave the girl alone,” her father said coolly as he stepped into view, barely sparing her a glance. “we’ll discuss her... unfortunate hair choice at dinner.”

aeri resisted the urge to groan. great. this was gonna be a drag.

“so,” her mother began casually, cutting into her beef with unnecessary precision, “a little birdie told me you’ve got a boy—sorry, girlfriend.”

aeri nearly choked, coughing hard as she reached for her water. her father paused mid-sip, setting his glass down with a slow raise of his brow.

“who the hell told you that?” she rasped, glaring across the table. of course it’d be her mother, the most dramatic woman alive who’d dig that up first.

her mother didn’t even flinch. “so?” she repeated simply, ignoring the question entirely.

“yes,” aeri finally said after a beat, her voice calm, “I have a girlfriend.”

her father set down his fork. “who is she? what’s her major?”

aeri hesitated for just a moment. a soccer player on a scholarship didn’t exactly scream parent friendly material, especially not to her father.

“business,” she lied smoothly, “like you.”

both her parents exchanged a look. impressed. and that was the worst part, because as much as she hated to care, something about it made her chest flutter.

“really?” her mom beamed. “and her family?”

“really wealthy.”

the words slipped out before she could stop them.

“oh, wow, hun.” her mom looked genuinely delighted, dabbing her lips with her napkin like this was the best news she'd heard all year. “i’d love to meet this girl.”

“same,” her dad added, adjusting his cufflinks. “maybe I could give her some pointers. connections help in the business world.”

aeri forced a laugh, heart pounding. “she’s super busy with work and classes and stuff, but… I’ll try.”

her mother waved it off casually, “nonsense. tell her to stop by next week. we’ll have dinner. nothing formal.”

aeri smiled stiffly. nothing formal, she thought bitterly, she’s screwed.

“oh, you are so screwed,” jimin said flatly through the phone.

“I know,” aeri groaned, flopping onto her bed dramatically. “but I had to. it was the only way out.”

“are you sure your parents wouldn’t approve of her? I mean, she’s a college athlete, has a whole fanbase, and literal league scouts already watching her and she’s only a second year.”

“jimin,” aeri sighed, “my parents don’t care about sports unless it’s golf. they wouldn’t care if she was playing for the national team.”

“do you, though? know your parents?” jimin’s voice softened a little. “I mean… they’re never really around.”

aeri’s mouth dropped open, eyes narrowing. she was seconds away from saying something ruthless, something that would’ve made jimin cry in her sleep but then her screen lit up.

“you’re so lucky yn is calling me right now,” aeri hissed before hanging up and immediately answering the incoming facetime.

her glare disappeared in an instant, replaced by a soft smirk. “hey, loser.”

“hey,” yn said, adjusting her phone on her desk and propping it against a stack of textbooks.

 “you’ve been ghosting me all day. I was starting to worry. ryujin even started bullying me about it, she said you’ve trained me to be obsessed with you or something. whatever that means.”

aeri couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. god, yn was so dumb sometimes. dumb and sweet and completely hers. but the guilt settled in fast, while yn had been missing her, worrying, getting teased… aeri had spent the day lying through her teeth.

“sorry,” she lied smoothly, leaning back on her bed. “I’ve been sleeping all day.”

aeri’s eyes drifted to the screen just as yn pulled her bruised knee up onto her fluffy desk chair, wincing slightly. aeri’s brows knit together.

“wait, I thought that healed?”

“nah,” yn waved it off like it was nothing. “that was the other knee. this one’s fresh. happened today at practice.”

aeri stayed quiet, her eyes locked on the purpling skin. all she could think about was what her parents would say if they saw yn like this, sweaty, bruised up, still in her practice gear with messy hair and that dumb smile. they’d probably faint on the spot.

she forced a small laugh. “you’re like… one big walking injury.”

yn grinned proudly. “thanks, babe.”

there’s silence.

“so uh, you might wanna get used to me ghosting a little more this week,” aeri said casually, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve.

yn raised a brow. “what, why?”

“I’ve got this huge econ test coming up,” she lied without skipping a beat, “and my dad’s been texting me nonstop about grades. like full on freak out mode. so I need to lock in.”

yn nodded slowly. “oh… damn. yeah, that makes sense.”

aeri could already see the wheels turning in her girlfriend’s head, so she added quickly, “it’s nothing serious, just pressure from my dad being dramatic. I just need to focus.”

“I can come over and study with you,” yn offered with a grin, not even thinking twice about it. “I’ll bring snacks. we can make flashcards and stuff—”

“no!” aeri blurted, a little too fast, a little too loud.

yn blinked. “uh…”

aeri cleared her throat, trying to recover. “I mean… babe. you’re not exactly the brightest crayon in the box.”

yn gasped. “wow.” she dragged out.

“I’m just saying,” aeri smirked, “you’re more of a ‘run fast, kick ball’ kind of girl. and that’s okay. just… stick to your athletics.”

yn narrowed her eyes playfully. “you’re so lucky you’re hot.”

aeri laughed, but there was a tightness in her chest. the lying was easy, too easy, but yn’s genuine offer, the way she’d said “I’ll bring snacks” like it was the most obvious thing in the world, made her stomach twist with guilt.

“I’ll make it up to you after the test, okay?” aeri added softer.

yn nodded, still suspicious, but let it go. “you better. I expect snacks. and a movie. and lots of hugs.”

aeri smiled. “deal.”

“I’ll text you tomorrow?” aeri said, forcing a smile as yn nodded.

“okay. good luck with the studying. don’t stress too much, alright?”

aeri hummed in response and ended the call.

the second yn’s face disappeared from the screen, aeri let out a long, guttural groan and flopped backwards onto her pillows, flinging her phone somewhere near the foot of her bed.

“what the hell am I doing,” she muttered, dragging both hands down her face. “lying to my parents. lying to my girlfriend. pretending she’s a business major from a rich family. oh my god, I’m insane.”

she rolled over and screamed into her pillow.

her parents wanted to meet a fake version of yn. yn just wanted to bring her snacks and help her study. 

and her brilliant solution? insult her intelligence and ghost her for a week.

“great, genius,” she mumbled to herself, sitting up suddenly and staring at the floor like it might give her answers. “now she thinks I’m avoiding her. which… I am. but like, ugh, it’s for her own good.”

she pulled her phone back toward her and opened a text to jimin.

did I forget to tell you they now wanna meet her next week? and I’m avoiding her??? help

I’m spiraling I’m spiraling I’m spiralling

before she could even finish typing another message, her phone started ringing again. she flinched. it was jimin.

“don’t say anything,” aeri answered, flopping back down dramatically.

“you’re a mess.”

“I said don’t say anything.”

“you’re gonna have to tell yn the truth eventually,” jimin said calmly. “or you’re gonna end up introducing her to your parents with a fake résumé and a fake gucci purse.”

“I can get her a gucci purse.”

“aeri—”

“I’m serious! I saw one online last week that would actually look so cute on her. she has that one blue hoodie it could go with that I got her last month, wait. oh my god. I’m insane.”

jimin sighed. “yeah. but at least you’re pretty.”

aeri buried her face into the pillow again and screamed.

yn sat cross legged on ryujin’s bed, chewing on the straw of her smoothie and staring blankly at the tv playing some random drama. 

she was trying to focus, she really was, but her brain kept looping back to aeri.

“you’re thinking about her again,” ryujin said flatly, not even looking up from her phone.

“no, I’m not.”

“you are. you’re doing that weird little pout you do when you’re overthinking.”

“I don’t do that.”

“you definitely do.” ryujin finally looked up, raising a brow. “so? what’d she say?”

yn sighed, tossing the straw wrapper across the room. “she said she’s gonna be ghost for the week ‘cause she has a big test and her dad’s been on her ass about grades or whatever.”

ryujin made a face. “since when does she care about school?”

“that’s what I said,” yn muttered. “I offered to come over and study with her and she said no. then she joked about me not being smart enough to help and told me to stick to athletics.”

ryujin’s eyes narrowed. “she said that?”

“yeah. but she was joking. I think. I mean, I laughed.”

ryujin sat up, looking way more alert now “okay, no offense, but that sounds like a bunch of bullshit. like, she loves it when you’re around. she literally dragged you to her 8 a.m. econ class once just to ‘make it more bearable.’ now she suddenly doesn’t want you near her?”

yn stayed quiet, fingers fidgeting with the string of her hoodie.

“you think something’s wrong?” she asked, voice softer now.

“I think she’s hiding something,” ryujin said bluntly. “maybe not something bad. but something.”

yn chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking. aeri did seem off on facetime. like she was trying too hard to act normal. her smile didn’t reach her eyes. her voice was just a little too distant.

“you should just go over there,” ryujin added. “pop in. if she’s really just studying, it won’t be weird.”

“you think she’d be mad?”

“I think if she is, then she’s definitely hiding something, give it a couple more days it’s wednesday, pop in on the weekend.”

yn nodded slowly, still unsure, but that little pit of doubt in her stomach was growing.

it had been days since aeri locked herself away in her castle of lies, texting yn just enough to keep suspicion at bay, but even through the screen, she could tell her 

girlfriend was confused. the usual flirty emojis and teasing voice notes had thinned into dry "good mornings" and "sleep wells." it was killing her.

“so?” her mother snapped her out of her spiral. “your girlfriend’s supposed to be here any minute. I told the chef to prepare the shrimp, I hope she likes shrimp. it’s imported.”

aeri blinked. “about that…”

she had the excuse ready. yn had a big business test, needed to study, couldn’t make it. simple. easy. clean.

ding dong.

“hold that thought,” her mother said, already standing, heels clicking against the marble as she headed toward the door, making aeri roll her eyes 

“oh! hello!” her mother’s voice turned sickeningly sweet. “you must be the girlfriend.”

aeri froze in place.

what.

no.

no, no, no, no, what the hell was yn doing here?

aeri shot up so fast her chair scraped back against the floor. “mom, wait!” she hissed, practically tripping over herself as she sped down the hallway, socks sliding against the marble tile.

too late.

there she was.

yn, in all her tall, clueless glory, standing in the grand foyer of the uchiha mansion, wearing the pale pink louis vuitton polo that aeri bought her last month. it was oversized just how she liked it and draped loosely over a pair of baggy jeans, her hair was styled, barely, and she looked... passable, if you didn’t look too close at the faint bruise on her arm or how she nervously shifted from foot to foot.

“hey,” yn grinned, “is this your mom? nice to meet you.”

aeri’s mother blinked, lips pulling into a polite smile. “oh,” she said, scanning yn from head to toe. “you look… lovely. is that lv?”

yn looked down, then nodded. “yeah. aeri gave it to me.”

aeri nearly choked.

“shall we?” her mother gestured toward the dining room, smile tight. “the shrimp’s getting cold.”

aeri shoved herself between them, laughing a little too loud. “wait—wait, can I borrow her for just one second?”

“don’t take too long,” her mom said without looking back, already walking off in her heels

aeri yanked yn by the wrist and pulled her down the hallway.

aeri pressed her back against the door, her chest heaving. “yn, what are you doing?”

“surprising you?” yn answered, clearly thrown off, “you’ve been weird all week, barely texting, acting like I don’t exist, I just wanted to see you.”

aeri let out a short breath, not angry, just… overwhelmed. “I told you I was fine.”

“you didn’t even tell me your parents were back in town,” yn said, brows furrowing. “why didn’t you tell me?”

aeri flinched, barely, but yn caught it. she could see the guilt flicker across aeri’s expression before the spoiled girl quickly masked it with indifference.

“you need to go,” aeri muttered, brushing past her.

yn blinked, taking a step back. “what?”

“I just, tonight isn’t a good time. I didn’t think you were actually gonna come, okay? just… go.”

there it was.

yn’s face didn’t crumple or twist up with emotion. no, it was worse, her entire expression just fell flat. like the lights behind her eyes dimmed a little. like she didn’t know how to react.

and just as yn opened her mouth to speak, aeri’s mother’s heels clicked furiously against the marble.

“oh for god’s sake, what is taking so long—”

she stormed into the hallway, pausing only slightly when she saw how tense the two looked. but she smiled anyway, grabbing yn’s hand without hesitation.

“come now, dear,” she said, tugging yn gently but firmly. “you’re our guest. don’t be shy.”

yn glanced at aeri as she was led away, their eyes meeting for only a second.

a second was all it took for aeri to see the hurt sitting just beneath the surface. and it made her feel sick.

dinner was quiet at first. the clinking of forks, a polite sip of wine, some occasional chewing. too quiet. aeri could feel the anxiety pressing up her throat, her knee bouncing lightly under the table.

and then.

“so,” her mother said, placing her napkin on her lap delicately, “how did you two meet?”

yn paused mid bite, fork hovering. she blinked, glanced at aeri, then gave a small laugh. “uh, I hit her with a soccer ball.”

aeri froze.

her father furrowed his brows. “you… what?”

“it was during a sports day,” aeri blurted out quickly, flashing a too bright smile. “yn, being the business major she is, was horrible at soccer  and—yeah. accident.”

yn’s brows pinched as she leaned over and whispered, “business major?”

“oh yeah, business ” he repeated, eyes narrowing in that way that always made aeri’s stomach churn. “that explains it. you look so familiar. how’s business been treating you? I know how demanding that major can be.”

“dad, don’t interrogate my girlfriend,” aeri cut in quickly, voice tight with panic.

but yn just smiled politely and shook her head. “I wish I could tell you, sir, but i’m not a business major.”

the silence that hit the table was deafening.

a beat.

“then what are you?” her mother asked, her voice sharper now, eyes narrowing slightly.

yn stayed calm. “I’m a soccer player. i’m on an athletic scholarship.”

aeri could’ve sunk into the floor right then and there. her heart was in her ears. her entire chest burned.

“oh,” her mother said slowly, blinking. “and your parents? what company do they own?”

yn turned to look at aeri, visibly confused now, then turned back to the parents. “I wouldn’t say they own a company, but… my dad acts like he owns the team. he’s my coach. and my mom’s a nurse.”

her mother’s lips parted slightly, clearly processing that.

“soccer?” her father said suddenly, and his whole expression changed. “that’s why you look so familiar. you’re yn. yn. me and the boys have been watching some of the college soccer games on our business trips, you’re everyone’s favorite. you're already on the league radar, aren’t you? probably getting drafted early.”

aeri stared at her father like she didn’t know him.

but before she could even say anything, he added, “so why did aeri say you were a business major?”

“and from a wealthy family?” her mother tacked on, voice laced with suspicion now.

all eyes turned to aeri.

she laughed, dry, nervous, too high pitched. “dad, since when are you into soccer?”

yn cleared her throat and pushed her chair back gently. “sorry. may I be excused?”

“yn—” aeri stood up immediately, eyes wide.

but yn was already walking.

aeri followed, practically tripping over herself to catch up. “yn, wait, please, wait—”

aeri hurried after yn, panic bubbling up as she saw the girl’s back disappearing into the hallway. yn moved quickly, her footsteps heavy on the marble floor, and aeri’s heart twisted at the thought of what she might be thinking. the door to the patio was already cracked open by the time aeri reached it, the cool evening air brushing against her skin.

aeri pushed the door open, the cold air biting against her skin as she stepped onto the patio. yn stood a few feet away, arms crossed tightly over her chest, back turned.

“yn,” aeri said gently, voice low and careful, “can we just—”

“so I’m guessing there’s no big test?” yn cut her off, her voice sharp but calm in that scary way that made aeri freeze in place.

aeri’s breath caught. “yn…”

“aeri, what the hell was that?” yn finally turned, and the look on her face made aeri’s stomach drop. it wasn’t anger at least not fully. it was disappointment. betrayal. “why do your parents think I’m some business major from a rich family?”

aeri couldn’t speak for a second. her throat felt tight.

yn’s voice rose slightly, not yelling, but firm. “you lied to them about everything. my major, my family, me. was this whole thing just one big cover up?”

aeri shook her head quickly, stepping forward. “no! yn, it’s not like that, I swear—”

“then what is it like?” yn challenged, eyes searching hers. “because right now it really feels like you’re embarrassed of me.”

“I’m not,” aeri said, voice cracking as her heart thudded in her chest. “I’m not embarrassed of you, yn. I swear. I just, I panicked, okay? they showed up out of nowhere and I didn’t know how to explain… us. you.”

yn blinked at her, jaw clenched. “you could’ve just told me. I would’ve understood. I would’ve done anything to make tonight easier for you. but you lied. to them, and to me.”

aeri was quiet, guilt sinking heavy into her bones. she couldn’t deny it. she had lied. because the truth, as stupid as it sounded now, had scared her.

“I didn’t want them to judge you,” aeri whispered. “or ruin this. or ruin us.”

yn stared at her for a long moment. “they wouldn’t have judged me, aeri. they would’ve judged you. for being with me.”

the words landed hard, and neither of them said anything after that. the wind rustled in the silence, but it didn’t break the weight between them.

aeri took a shaky breath, stepping closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “you’re right. they would’ve. they do.”

yn didn’t flinch, just kept her eyes on her.

aeri looked down, fiddling with the sleeves of her cardigan. “you’re a soccer player with bruises and bandaids and opinions, and my parents think that kind of girl isn’t fit to sit at their table. and that’s so messed up, I know that but it’s just how they are.”

yn’s jaw tightened. “and you lied so they’d think I was the kind of girl who is.”

aeri’s voice cracked, quiet and fast, “I was scared they’d make me choose.”

yn finally looked away, jaw flexing, eyes fixed on the horizon. “and you chose.”

aeri felt that like a punch to the chest. “no. no, yn, I didn’t choose them. I just—I froze, okay? you walked in and you looked so perfect in that stupid polo I got you and for a second I thought maybe I could keep the lie going. keep you.”

yn let out a breathy, humorless laugh. “you keep saying you’re not ashamed of me, but you assumed they wouldn’t accept me. and yet your dad literally just sat there praising me for being the best in the game. the same game you thought would make them hate me.”

aeri’s mouth parted, no words coming out.

yn shook her head. “you didn’t even give them the chance. you just decided for everyone.”

aeri stepped forward again, voice trembling. “I lied because I’m ashamed of them, not you. I swear. but I get it, I hurt you. and I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you everything the second they showed up.”

yn looked at her again, softer now. not forgiving, not yet, but listening. “I just needed you to be honest. that’s all.”

aeri nodded, voice barely above a whisper. “I will. no more lies. not with you.”

yn didn’t reply, just let the silence fall again.

aeri stepped closer, her voice trembling now. “I can’t lose you, yn.”

yn looked over at her, eyes still guarded, but something in her expression cracked.

aeri’s hands balled into fists at her sides. “I was so stupid. I don’t even know why I said all that, why I let it get that far.” 

yn stayed quiet, letting her speak.

“you’re the only person who’s been keeping me sane,” aeri said, voice breaking now. 

“when my parents showed up, I couldn’t breathe. they walk into a room and suddenly I’m this version of myself I hate. I haven’t slept right since they got here, and the only time I felt okay was when you’d facetime me, or send me some dumb picture of your knee looking like a war wound.”

yn let out a small breath, half a laugh, half something else.

aeri kept going. “I need you, yn. I need us. and I can’t believe I did what I did. I lied to my parents about who you were, and worse, I didn’t give you the truth either. and you still showed up. you still came to check on me.

yn looked down for a moment, biting her lip. “I because I knew something was off, I just didn’t think it was this.”

aeri’s eyes were glassy now, her voice soft. “and I’m glad you did, you’re my girlfriend and I’ve been missing you more than anything, I just, didn’t know how to tell you the truth without losing you.”

yn’s silence stretched between them again, this time heavier with emotion.

aeri stepped even closer, just inches away now. “please. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this.”

yn stared at her for a moment, the tension in her shoulders slowly easing. “you can start by never calling me a business major again. I’m still offended.”

aeri let out a watery laugh, half relief and half disbelief. “deal.”

yn stuffed her hands into her pockets, glancing back toward the house with a half-smile. “and maybe…” she started, voice a little hesitant, “maybe this time you could introduce me to your parents properly?”

aeri blinked at her.

“only if you want to,” yn added quickly, kicking a pebble by her foot. “I can sneak through the back if you want. pretend this never happened.”

aeri rolled her eyes, but there was a soft grin tugging at her lips. “shut up.”

yn was about to chuckle when aeri suddenly grabbed her hand.

“no. you’re my girlfriend. you walked in there alone while I was hiding behind a lie and you didn’t flinch once. I’m not making you sneak around anything.” she squeezed her hand. “we’re doing it right this time.”

yn blinked at her, surprised. “you sure?”

“absolutely.” aeri took a deep breath, standing straighter. “come on.”

they walked back toward the house, fingers still laced, the evening air cool around them. when they reached the front door, aeri paused and turned to her.

“you look really hot in that polo, by the way,” she murmured.

yn smirked. “I was gonna return it, just to spite you.”

aeri gasped. “you better not.”

they pushed through the door together. aeri’s mom was standing in the hallway, clearly on her way to check outside, but froze when she saw them enter hand in hand.

aeri cleared her throat, not letting go of yn’s fingers. “mom, this is yn. my yn. not the nepo baby business major one, but the famous soccer player one.”

yn smiled politely, holding her posture. “it’s nice to meet you, officially.”

her mother blinked once, then gave a tight-lipped smile, still suspicious, but clearly trying. “my husband mentioned that you’re gonna be big? is that correct.”

yn’s smile didn’t waver. “hopefully.”

the older woman’s expression shifted slightly, her smile widening just a bit as she clasped her hands together. “well. now that that’s cleared up… come back and finish your plate. shrimp doesn’t taste the same reheated.”

she turned on her heel, but not before throwing a look over her shoulder. “and aeri, we need to talk about your outfits. if you’re gonna be a sports girlfriend, you need to make sure to show up to the games looking the best.”

aeri blinked. “did you just call me a wag?”

“a what?” her mom called from down the hallway, already halfway to the dining room.

aeri groaned, dragging her feet as yn chuckled quietly beside her.

“don’t act like you wouldn’t love to be my wag.”

aeri didn’t miss a beat. “shut up.”

but she was smiling.

[shawtuzi]

Heyy so I miss basketball!player x chubby!reader😚

ykw me too girl let’s get into it

cw include: unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl, mating press, creampie, multiple orgasms, some fluff, not proofread

“nope.”

“but babyyy—”

“i said no eren, you need to save all your stamina for tomorrow,” your fingers ran softly through his hair as you spoke, hoping that it would make him a little tired. his head was resting on your tummy, and although almost half of his body was hanging off the bed he couldn’t have been more content—well lemme not say that bc there is something that could lift his spirits a little more.

eren nuzzled his face into the pudge of your stomach, his thick brows furrowing is sadness. ugh you smelled so yummy, like peaches and honey. he could’ve just ate you up right there. he lifted his head and you couldn’t help but laugh at the pout on his face. “but babyyy you know we’ll win, we’ve been on a crazy winning streak this season thanks to yours truly.”

“so has the other team you’re going up against tomorrow. you need to be focused, plus i don’t wanna hear any shit from coach or your teammates if the game doesn’t turn out in our favor,” it was your turn to pout now because you’ve definitely received some nasty looks and remarks in the past from said individuals.

eren scoffed and shook his head, “well what those dickheads don’t know is the only reason i play so well is because you’re there to watch me. the other times we lost guess who didn’t happen to be in the crowd?” eren cocked his head, his lips lifting into a smirk.

“me?”

“yes, you. those three games we lost you just so happened to not be there, but anytime you’re there we always win. you’re our good luck charm—my good luck charm.” you couldn’t help but smile and hide your face in his pillow. he always had you internally blushing, your cheeks feeling as though someone had placed coals on them.

you felt eren shift and suddenly he was towering over you, the fallen strands from his disheveled bun tickling your face. “lemme at least get a taste, don’t think i forgot you just got waxed the other day,” he nudged his nose against yours, his lips just millimeters away from yours.

mannnn. fuck it.

“actually i have a better idea, renny.”

sometime later . . .

‘this is so much fucking better’ eren thought to himself as he laid a harsh smack to your ass, his teeth clamping onto his bottom lip as he watched it ripple. he couldn’t help but do it again. and again. and again.

“faster, baby, c’mon i know you can do better than that,” eren grabbed the fat of your ass and helped you fuck back into him faster. a pretty, translucent sheen of your essence coated his dick so nicely it had his mouth watering. reverse cowgirl was eren’s second favorite position—i think we can all assume what the first one is. backshots.

your pussy looked so pretty from this angle, and if he felt like it he could lift you with ease and sit you right on his tongue. eren bench pressed and did leg lifts with weights almost three times your size, so maneuvering you into any position he wanted was nothing but a thing.

“i-i’m trying but—”

“don’t tell me you’re already fucked out,” and when you looked at him over your shoulder his suspicions were correct. he couldn’t help but laugh at the tears in your eyes and the pout on your lips. “looks like you needed this more than me hm? c’mere let me help you out,” you were more than happy to oblige and changed your position so your back was against eren’s chest.

the new angle had you seeing stars, his fat tip now pressing snuggly against that spongy spot that had your toes curling. he rested his chin on your shoulder, nudging your jaw with his nose, “you comfortable pretty girl?”

you weakly nodded, your breath hitching when his hand wrapped around your throat. eren planted his feet into the bed and began a steady rhythm. his free hand snaked between your thick thighs, his rough digits now rubbing tight, little circles on your clit.

“t-too deep,” you squealed, weakly wrapping your hand around his wrist. even though eren has fucked you in every position humanly possible, you’ll still never quite get over just how big he really is. that shit had a curve in it too so he was real in your guts. “no it ain’t, you can take it mama,” his jaw clenched when he felt your nails dig into his wrists—lucky for you he loved the pain!

eren pressed a kiss to the shell of your ear, “greedy fuckin’ pussy.” his words had you whining in embarrassment because he was right :(( each time he pushed back in a very loud, obnoxious squelch followed. huh, looks like you really did need this. so bad that you were actually begging eren to finish inside you.

eren hated when you begged for it like that. it brought out a side of him that was very hard to keep under control—especially when you asked oh so sweetly for it. with a huff eren pulled out, very much to your dismay.

“if you’re gonna let me nut in her m’gonna do it the right way,” he pressed a kiss to your shoulder before swiftly lifting you off him. before you knew it your ears were to your shoulders and eren’s forehead was pressed against yours.

“mm, we should do whatever that position was again sometime . . . all i could smell n’ feel was you, it was nice. hey, look at me,” his nose nudged against yours lovingly, his smile mirroring your own. “ugh you randomly get so sappy outta nowhere. its too much,” your giggle was turned into a moan when you felt his tip prod at your dripping entrance.

your fingers tugged at the elastic in his hair until a curtain of eren’s hair fell around you both. “i love you.” eren didn’t even process the words that left his mouth until he heard you gasp. well . . . it’s too late now!

“i’m not gonna take it back cuz i mean it,” and with that eren pushed inside you in one, swift thrust. you felt like the air had been knocked out of lungs as you tried to adjust to his size. his hips circled and that’s what had your thighs shaking, your pussy convulsing around him as your orgasm hit you in harsh waves.

“i lo-ve you t-too ren,” a tear slipped from your eye and eren kissed it away tenderly. eren pulled out until only the tip was in before slamming back inside, your breasts bouncing with every thrust. “shittt say it again baby, say it one more time,” eren couldn’t help the symphony of moans that flew past his lips, he was entirely too far gone.

you whimpered out ‘i love you’ again and again until you physically couldn’t speak. each time you said it eren went harder, deeper.

“m’gonna win that game tomorrow, n’ every other game after that. then i’m goin’ pro—shit, and i’m gonna buy us a big ass house and knock you up till we got a little league of our own. don’t that sound good mama?” eren panted out, his hand moving from the back of your knee to push on the lower part of your tummy.

all you could do was chant out yes! yes! yes! because yes, you really did what that! you wanted to see eren go pro and live his dream, and you couldn’t be happier or hornier that you were apart of that dream.

“you’re gonna make me cum mama, gonna make me nut all in this pretty pussy. you want that baby? want me to fill this pussy up hm?”

“please!” your hands slapped against eren’s shoulders as your second orgasm of the night hit you like a semi. eren roughly fucked you through your orgasm, his abs clenching as he felt his own approaching quickly. your eyes rolled back when you felt the first spurt of his cum hit your womb, shortly after that all you felt was warmth. “jesus fuckin’ christ,” eren’s body shook as he chuckled, his eyes fluttering shut as he basked in his post orgasm daze.

you whined when you felt him begin to pull out, a mixture of his and your cum dribbled out of you in thick glob. “what’re you doin’,” you sniffled, your pussy clenching around nothing as eren stared at it with nothing but hunger in his eyes. “i still want a taste. you gonna let me get my fill?” his hands massaged your inner thighs, his thumbs squishing your lower lips together just to see you squirm.

“go ahead renny *sniffle* you deserve it,” and he did, he really did. he was truly the best boyfriend anyone could’ve asked for. he made you feel so beautiful—so loved. he loved you, and you loved him just as much.

eren leant down to give your lips three kisses, muttering ‘i love you’ before kissing his way down your body. he kissed over every scar, stretch mark, every imperfect perfection that he helped you loved with so much tenderness it could’ve brought tears to your eyes.

his emerald eyes flicked to yours—

“i’m so happy that horse faced idiot fumbled you.”

[xichilie]

Suspicious Observations

Mydei x (fem)reader x Phainon

Phainon and Mydei weren’t ones to lurk. They had much better things to do with their time—training, missions, and, in Phainon’s case, generally making a nuisance of himself. But today? Today was different.

Because Y/N was spending way too much time with someone new.

Hidden (poorly) behind a merchant stall, the two Chrysos heirs peered across the busy street, their gazes locked onto Y/N and the unfamiliar man beside her. The guy—Micah, she had called him—was tall, handsome, and worst of all, charming.

And it was annoying.

Y/N laughed at something Micah said, playfully shoving his shoulder. The two of them stood close—too close, in Mydei’s opinion. Her expression was bright, carefree, the kind of look that made people’s hearts melt. But why was she giving it to him?

Phainon narrowed his golden eyes, crossing his arms. “Okay, I don’t like this guy.”

“You don’t even know him,” Mydei muttered, but his tone was laced with something almost like agreement.

“I don’t need to know him. Look at him. He’s got that—ugh—effortlessly cool thing going on. The kind that makes girls swoon. He’s a threat.”

“He’s a guy,” Mydei corrected, though his tone was flat.

“A very handsome guy.”

The two of them continued to watch as Y/N and Micah ran ahead, stopping to look at a street vendor’s colorful trinkets. She held up a bracelet, laughing at something Micah said, before—

Oh.

Micah reached forward and casually ruffled her hair.

Phainon inhaled sharply. “Did you see that?”

Mydei’s eye twitched. “I did.”

“That was a head-pat, Mydei. That’s peak affection.”

“It was not.”

Phainon ignored him, placing a hand over his heart. “I think I might be sick.”

Before Mydei could tell him to shut up, Y/N and Micah suddenly turned and started heading straight for them.

“Move, move!” Phainon hissed, scrambling to act natural—which, unfortunately, meant awkwardly leaning against a fruit stall. Mydei, ever the composed one, simply crossed his arms and waited.

Y/N spotted them and waved. “Hey! What are you guys doing here?”

Phainon, still pressed against the fruit stand, answered too quickly. “Oh, nothing.”

Y/N tilted her head at him but let it go. “Well, since you’re here, let me introduce you! This is Micah, my childhood best friend. Micah, these are my friends Phainon and Mydei.”

Micah, utterly unfazed, smiled at them. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you two.”

Phainon blinked. “Oh?”

Y/N grinned. “Yeah! I was just telling him how much trouble you guys get into.”

Phainon gasped in betrayal. Mydei sighed.

Micah chuckled. “Sounds about right. She used to get into a lot of trouble too, you know.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You were the one who convinced me to jump off the roof into that hay cart.”

“And you stuck the landing!” Micah shot back proudly.

Phainon’s expression shifted. He was starting to see something here. Micah wasn’t trying to steal Y/N. He was just as chaotic as her.

…Which meant they might actually get along.

“Okay,” Phainon said, throwing an arm over Micah’s shoulder like they’d been friends for years. “I’ve decided. You’re alright.”

Y/N blinked. “That was fast.”

Micah laughed, patting Phainon’s back. “What can I say? I have a talent for winning people over.”

Mydei, on the other hand, was far less amused. He remained at Y/N’s side, arms crossed, watching the new alliance with an unreadable expression. “That doesn’t explain why you were suddenly everywhere with her this week.”

“Oh, that?” Micah grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I just got back into town, so we’ve been catching up. Lots to talk about, you know?”

Phainon nodded knowingly. “Oh, I get it. Best friend privileges.”

“Exactly.”

“I also have best friend privileges.”

Micah grinned wider. “But were you there when she got her first scraped knee and cried for half an hour?”

Phainon looked at Y/N in disbelief. “You did what?”

Y/N groaned. “It was a deep scrape, okay?”

Micah smirked. “See? That’s history right there.”

Phainon narrowed his eyes. “Alright, fine. I’ll allow it. But only because you have proof of childhood suffering.”

Micah chuckled. “Much appreciated.”

As much as Phainon was warming up to Micah, Mydei was still watching him like a hawk. It wasn’t even that he thought Micah was bad—the guy was fine, even likable.

But Mydei wasn’t sure how he felt about someone else knowing Y/N that well.

He’d spent so much time with her, got used to the way she smiled at him, the way she trusted him more than anyone. But Micah had been there before him.

And for some reason, that irritated him.

At one point, as Y/N and Phainon were busy laughing over some dumb joke, Micah turned to Mydei and smirked. “You don’t like me, do you?”

Mydei gave him a flat look. “What gave it away?”

Micah snorted. “Hey, I get it. If I were you, I’d probably feel the same way.”

“…What do you mean?”

Micah leaned in slightly, voice dropping just enough to sound teasing. “You like her, don’t you?”

Mydei stiffened, gold eyes narrowing. “That’s none of your business.”

Micah just grinned. “Relax. I’m not competition.”

“Tch.”

“I’m serious.” Micah looked over at Y/N and chuckled. “She’s like a sister to me. You’re the ones acting all weird about it.”

Mydei didn’t respond, because he had no argument for that.

And that was the most frustrating part of all.

By the end of the day, Phainon and Micah were practically inseparable, talking about everything from dumb childhood stories to debating which Okhema tavern had the best drinks.

Y/N, delighted that they were getting along, threw an arm around each of them. “See? I told you guys you’d like him.”

Phainon grinned. “He’s alright.”

Micah smirked. “I grow on people.”

Y/N glanced at Mydei, who had been quieter than usual. “And you?”

Mydei sighed, rubbing his temple. “He’s fine.”

“Wow,” Micah deadpanned. “That’s the most unenthusiastic approval I’ve ever received.”

Phainon laughed. “You’ll get used to it.”

Mydei rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. He’d lost this battle—Micah wasn’t the enemy here.

But that didn’t mean he liked this new dynamic.

And judging by the way Micah smirked at him, he knew it.

Phainon nudged Mydei as they walked home. “You totally thought he was her secret lover, didn’t you?”

“Shut up.”

“You were so jealous.”

“I said shut up.”

Phainon grinned. “Hey, at least now you have someone else to suffer with. Micah noticed too, you know.”

Mydei groaned, already regretting everything.

[revolvingsaturn]

Summary: Your ex boyfriend decides to send you a series of messages, Tomura makes sure he can carry out what your ex can’t.

🫧🌱

You’re absentmindedly standing in Tomura’s room, feeling the inescapable stickiness of the Japanese summer creeping in through the open window and cling to your skin like molasses. You groan into the emptiness of his bedroom, alone with Tomura in the bar while everybody else is out doing who knows what, until your lamenting is interrupted by his voice; it rasps through the quiet accompanied by the muffled creak of his doorframe. He slots himself slightly inside your personal space-not unusual- but he’s holding your phone, though, which is odd.

“You got a message.” He says bluntly, extending a hand where you see a notification in your messages from your ex boyfriend.

“Oh, him- maybe it’s someone’s birthday.” You reply nonchalantly, still rolling your neck to try and cut through the thickness of the air. You were on good terms with your ex, occasionally receiving messages on holidays or birthdays. Good terms indeed- or so you thought.

“Read the messages.” Tomura says. His voice is tinged with something like- like jealousy, but what for? You cautiously open the contact and you’re taken aback by what lies on your screen.

A series of messages that certainly wouldn’t have counted as anything less than downright obscenely sexual appeared on your phone screen, and you grimace. If he was trying to turn you on for the first time in a good long while, this certainly wasn’t the way to go.

“Ugh, what a perv-“ you say, as your finger hovers over the block button. “I knew there was something too nice about him-“

“No, don’t.”

Tomura’s voice cuts unexpectedly through the room, and you’re taken aback again- his voice is jealous, you’ve established, and his hand is twitching at his side in something akin to barely contained anger.

“What?” You can’t fathom why he wouldn’t want you to block him, surely he’d rather you never speak to him again-

“Don’t delete the messages. I want you to read them out. Wanna-“ he swallows thickly, jealously appearing to win the internal battle against nerves. “Wanna show you I’m better than him.”

“Tomura, you know you are-“ you protest to no avail; he’s moving closer, fingers still twitching at his sides while the skin of his exposed collarbone is pulled taut when he swallows.

“Wanna show you, though. Read the messages.” He says.

Nervously, wary of his wandering hands, you flush pink as you read the first message- you can’t fathom what would make him say any of this, but your ex was certainly enthusiastic, to say the least.

“Um.. he said, he said he wants to- to ‘leave hickies’ on me so I’ll be ‘marked’ as his…” you trail off in awkwardness. Before you can fully protest at the idea of being made to read out every dirty fantasy your ex has about you, your dialogue is cut off by the gasp that shudders out of your throat when Tomura suddenly lunges forwards in one fluid movement and connects his teeth- not lips, teeth- with your neck.

“Marked as his?” He mutters angrily, more to himself than anything, into the rapidly bruising skin of your neck. “His?” Swirls of purple and red flourish across your skin in the heat, spit mingling with sweat but he doesn’t seem to mind as he goes back in to continue his assault even as he’s slowly manoeuvring you to sit on the ruffled sheets of his bed.

“Keep going.” He demands, even as your eyelashes threaten to flutter shut when he bites sharply down on the skin above your jugular and sucks, little crescent shaped hollows left in his absence when he pulls back to admire his handiwork.

“He said- he said- he’s gonna… he’s gonna ‘hold me down’, and, and-“

“Keep going.”

“He’s gonna hold me down and, um- he wants to finger me.” You say, scrunching up your face in sheer embarrassment at the last part. The recital of the message only seems to have the opposite effect on Tomura as he’s spurred on to sink his fingers into your waist while his other clammy hand works its way down to the front of your pants. All it takes is a gentle shove and you’re staring at the ceiling fan. Tomura may be close to straddling you but the thought of how odd this positioning might look from a third person perspective goes out the proverbial window when his fingers slip over your clit.

You gasp and shudder, and although you can’t see him you know he’s smiling when he hears you practically whine below him- held down- as he slips two practiced fingers inside of you.

“You’re so wet.” He says, Tomura’s never really one for well thought out dirty talk, you’ve noticed- he just says whatever comes to the forefront of his mind without hesitation or filtering. “Tell- tell me who’s doing this to you.”

The sudden burst of Tomura’s possessive streak bubbling to the surface addles your brain- he’s doing this to prove something to himself, you think, but you should probably answer and oh my god he’s using his thumb to draw circles over your clit while his fingers curl inside you and you see stars instead of his ceiling fan and-

And he stops.

“Who is it.” He says lowly.

“You, Tomura, you-“ you whine back as he picks up his pace again. You’re vaguely aware of his hand previously on your waist moving and picking something up, dangling it in your face. It’s your phone, messages still visible on the screen as its artificial light blares through the swirls of natural light creeping in like tendrils created by the late afternoon sun.

“Keep reading.” He says hoarsely, mildly distracted by the sight that greets him when he fully pulls your pants down and sees his fingers pump in and out of you.

“He said-“ it’s the second to last message, you notice vaguely, your ex must be nearing the end of his fantasy- “he said- oh fuck, Tomura- he said he was gonna spread my legs and taste me- ow!” You’re cut off by the surprise of teeth sinking dully into your thigh.

“He said he was gonna do that, too.” Tomura groans. Indeed, you’d missed that delightful footnote- your ex had in fact said he was going to bite your thighs in his second to last message. “But I do it better.”

And he does, he really does- you grip at his powder blue hair as he starts to hold your hips down with one hand while his lips make contact with the slick between your legs; his tongue quickly finds your clit, darting about while his fingers still slip in and out of you messily. The room is still so hot but you don’t think you could care less when he bites your thigh again- matching bruises on each side, now- while he does exactly what your ex wishes he could; your orgasm hits like slamming into a brick wall, you ride it out rutting pathetically into Tomura’s now soaked face as he moans into you and grinds into the mattress below.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty-“ he says dazedly as he comes up for air from between your legs to tentatively kiss your lips. “You look so good being- being mine.” You taste yourself on him, but you have more pressing concerns as Tomura tells you to read the final message while he takes off his clothes and underwear.

You exhale shakily. “He wants to..” your voice is barely above a whisper. “He wants to ‘finish deep inside’ me.” You look up and make eye contact with a now unclothed Tomura, who’s rapidly pulling off your shirt and bra to palm at your chest and finish sliding your underwear properly off your legs instead of dangling on one ankle.

It happens so fast you don’t get time to blink- he may be skinny, but Tomura’s agile; the moment your eyes meet his he’s ripping the phone from your grasp and swiftly sheathing himself inside you with a soft little whimper when he watches the way your pussy swallows him whole.

“You’re so perfect-“ he moans into your neck as he mouths over the marks he left behind previously, “tell me I’m better than him, tell me that he wouldn’t be able to do this-“

And you tell him, it’s not just in your verbal response but the way your pupils dilate and tears form in your waterline, the way your chest rises and falls caged under him and the way your legs wrap around his waist, drawing him impossibly closer. You raise a sweaty hand from clawing at his back hard enough to leave red marks-not that he cares- to grip his hair and lightly force him to look at you while he thrusts into you.

“Oh fuck, tell me I’m all yours, please, I c-can’t get there without it please-“ he’s babbling nonsense into your neck even as you cum around him, clenching so hard you swear your ears ring and you let out a string of curses interjected with moans and squeals as he keeps rubbing circles on your clit even through your orgasm.

“You’re all mine, Tomura.” You whisper into his ear as he humps into you. “And I’m all yours.” It pushes him over the edge, the verbal confirmation of the validation he’s been seeking thickens inside of him and is forced out in the form of a broken, depraved whimper into your mouth as he spills himself inside of you. He rolls over and pulls out, wincing at the overstimulation but internally smirking in triumph as he looks down at your fucked out appearance.

Messy hair, covered in spit (both his and yours) and marks, an expression of pure bliss covering your features. Although he isn’t much better; while his hair is unkempt at the best of times and downright ragged at the worst that isn’t what concerns you-you gasp when he rolls over and you catch a glimpse of his pale back. It’s covered in scratches, red lines jagged down his milky skin, but he just grins back at you through strands of hair.

“You can do that everytime now, I liked it.” He says matter of factly like you aren’t still both naked on his bed. He rolls over so you’re side by side, both opting to remain above the covers due to the heat. He briefly closes his eyes when his ceiling fan sputters back into life, letting the artificial breeze caress his face; he’s so pretty, you think, and he doesn’t even notice- stray strands of hair float around his face in the breeze, lips-still red-and his delicately pale face contrasting with each other.

“You’re a lot prettier than my ex, you know. I think you’re really lovely, Tomura.” You whisper at him.

He grins softly, eyes still closed and face tilted upwards at the ceiling fan as it whirs through the silence.

Maybe, one day, he’ll believe you.

🫧🌱

comments appreciated :)

[tiredandsapphic]

SOFT HANDS

pairing ꩜ adult!lottie matthews x fem!reader summary ꩜ carpenter lottie... builder lottie... handy lottie, yes please an ꩜ just a blurb cuz im facing the lethal writers block

thinking about lottie who builds things around the commune… some small jobs to keep her distracted, or big ones to keep her busy. honestly so talented too, she knows what she’s doing. yeah she's a cult leader, but she's also handy.

and for you? lottie will build anything your heart desires. you don’t even ask her directly, you’ll just utter the words “oh another garden would be nice…” or “a little path there will add to the place…”

"it would be like super romantic to have a little greenhouse by the lake." you mentioned once. "yeah?" "It's a dumb idea though, probably not enough room." and then you forgot about it after that.

two weeks later? its there. full of all your favourite plants, perfectly stained wood, and painted in an accent colour of your favourite, "because it reminded me of you," she'll say.

imagining lottie have notebooks full of ideas and plans. you find her half the time scribbling in them. she'll be writing in it with you nearby, probably while you're sleeping or reading. you peak inside them sometimes, a lot of sketches full of notes like,

'soft cushions for her knees while she gardens' 'sunrise hits at 6:17am—good spot for window for her favourite lighting' 'ask someone to teach me how to build a tub outside??' with frantic underlines.

when you ask her about it someone she gets all bashful and admits "I just... like to see you happy."

imagine just seeing her building something new for the commune, wearing her tank tops and linen loose pants. oh gosh, she's perfectly fit from all the work she does, absolutely obsessed. seeing the way her muscles work when she moves, and how she glistens in the sun, all you can do is stare. her hair all tied back, pencil behind her ear, still looking so ethereal.

being lottie's girlfriend whose kinda bad at all that stuff and still wanna help? yes. you help in your own way. bringing her snacks, drinks and of course kisses for motivation. those are her favourite. sometimes it escalates though...

"okay, so i just hold it here right?" you ask, hands attempting to grip a piece of lumber as she measures. "mmm, not quite baby, let me help," she's so patient, shifting behind you. she wraps her arms around your waist, murmuring how to steady the wood. guiding your hands with her larger ones, "good girl, just like that"

yeah... you're not much help after that, everything just got 10x more hot. you'll just stick to moral support.

she's only human and not totally healed, so she gets frustrated sometimes. the mix of the hot sun and a nail not laying correctly? yeah that ticks her off. imagining her breathing a little harder, jaw clenched, brow furrowed. the little murderous sighs she lets out, hehe. you always know how to calm her down though, soft praises and assurance. sometimes through more physical activities...

giving her massages too when she pulls something or is just so sore from all the hard work she does. you live of it, she loves it too much, its a win win. feeling her muscles under the pads of your fingers, working in her commune made remedies. ugh its so intimate. she makes a ritual out of it, having candles and soft scents some nights. your hands are so soft and work in all the right places. maybe getting injured is not as bad as it seems.

and the real reason she does all this? the praise. the recognition she receives, mostly from you. she lives for it, she needs it. when you tell her 'good job' or how much of a 'hard working girl' she is? she's gone. she'll do anything for you and wants you to feel that, because she loves her girl so so much.

[jxwl4k]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ flawless .𖥔 ݁ ˖

☘︎ . . . genre. fluff

☘︎ . . . pairings. bakugou x reader

☘︎ . . . requested? yes by anon

⤿ YN LN is the picture of perfection, brilliant, kind and impossibly talented. But behind her angelic smile lies a sharp tongue that she keeps hidden.

YN LN was perfect—untouchably so.

Her hair always shone like it had been blessed by the heavens, her grades were flawless, and her quirk—a dazzling ability to manipulate light into solid constructs—was nothing short of extraordinary. Every smile she gave was met with sighs, every word she spoke carried a melody of grace.

And it drove Katsuki Bakugou absolutely insane.

“Why’s she acting like she’s some kind of goddess?” he muttered under his breath as YN entered the classroom. Her angelic aura seemed to glow brighter when she greeted everyone. “Tch. Fake.”

YN, having heard him, maintained her kind smile, but her inner monologue flared to life:

“Fake? Oh, I’ll show you fake, you spiky-haired gremlin. Just wait until I—”

“Good morning, Bakugou,” she said sweetly, cutting her own thoughts off.

“Tch.” He didn’t even look at her.

“This brat’s gonna pay for ignoring me in front of everyone! I was blessed by God—this kind of disrespect would NEVER happen to me. I choose not to accept it!”

Despite her carefully curated reputation, YN had a side to her that no one knew—a competitive, hot-headed, and downright foul-mouthed streak that she kept buried beneath layers of charm. The only person who seemed to bring it dangerously close to the surface was Bakugou Katsuki.

It all started during a routine quirk demonstration.

“LN, Bakugou,” Aizawa called, looking as tired as ever. “You’ll be paired up to test each other’s quirks. Bakugou, go easy on her. LN, don’t let his explosions overwhelm you.”

Y/N’s smile didn’t falter, but her eye twitched imperceptibly. “Go easy on me? What am I, a toddler? I’ll obliterate him.”

Bakugou smirked. “Hope you can keep up, ‘Golden Girl.’ Wouldn’t want to ruin that perfect image of yours.”

Her fingers tightened into fists at her sides. “Of course,” she said with a laugh, though inside, she was seething. “You’re WAY off, idiot! I’ll wipe that smirk off your stupid face!”

The match began, and YN summoned a glowing shield of pure light, deflecting Bakugou’s explosions effortlessly. She countered with sharp, whip-like constructs, forcing him to dodge.

“Not bad,” he admitted grudgingly, sending another blast her way.

She sidestepped it with ease, her tone smug. “Oh? Did you expect me to just stand there and let you win?”

For the first time, Bakugou looked genuinely intrigued. “Hah. So you’re not just a pretty face after all.”

“A ‘pretty face’? That’s all he sees me as?! This guy—UGH!”

YN’s next attack was less restrained, her light constructs slamming into the ground with enough force to shake the arena. The spectators gasped, but she quickly composed herself, her sweet smile returning.

“Oops,” she said lightly. “Guess I overdid it!”

Bakugou, however, saw right through her.

After the match, YN sat alone, meticulously cleaning her gloves. Bakugou appeared out of nowhere, plopping down next to her with his usual lack of grace.

“What do you want, Bakugou?” she asked, her voice as light as ever.

He didn’t answer immediately, his sharp gaze studying her. “You’re not like them,” he said finally.

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You act all nice and perfect, but when we were fighting, you looked like you were actually havin’ fun. Like you’re hiding somethin’.”

Her hand froze mid-polish.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her tone just a little too defensive.

He snorted. “Whatever. Just don’t bother pretending around me. It’s annoying.”

She watched him walk away, her heart pounding.

“That brat! Who does he think he is?!”

And yet, for some reason, she couldn’t stop the small smile that crept onto her face.

[skzdarlings]

bets and situations ; skz ; minho x reader

original ask: requested by anonymous: minho and “is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them?” please

pairing: lee minho/reader content info: rivals to lovers. street racing. stubborn!reader. placing bets, betting sex (still explicit consent), fucking vs making love. outdoor sex. sex on a car. explicit sexual content. word count: 3400 words.

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

enjoy! <3

-

Sure, you are a little insufferable. 

But Lee Minho is worse. 

He carries himself with an elitist pomposity, like he is above the other drivers just because he once raced professionally.  Trophies or not, he is out here with the rest of you, illegally racing cars down desert roads, placing bets in the dead of night. 

You were content until this fucker came along.  Lee Minho and the stupid pretty face that won him fan clubs and brand deals.  Ugh.  You hate him for having that life and for giving it up when it is a fantasy for you.  The world of professional racing is notoriously hostile to women.  You admit there is a tinge of bitterness on your side of every interaction, but he goads you like an asshole.    

He arrives with his usual entourage.  A couple of them are racers, though not professionals, and a couple just spectate and mind his vehicle.  He has a nice car, almost as pretty as him.

You whistle as he approaches.  He looks at you with his usual exasperation, delicate features pinched with annoyance.  His hair was a vibrant red in his racing days, quite the act of showmanship, but it’s a natural dark brown now, framing his mean, stupid, handsome face.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you say.  “Finally gonna grow a pair and race me?”

His scowl turns to a bitchy little sneer.  He laughs sarcastically. 

“Not worth the mileage,” he says.  He shoulders past you, his leather jacket against your denim.  “Winning against a little girl does nothing for my massive ego.”  He says this with a sarcastic flourish, mocking your derision of him. 

You know the comment is a deliberately cheap shot.  Unfortunately, in reality, Minho is the least chauvinist racer you have ever met, treating the women here with the same basic dignity as the men.

It’s just you he hates, because you hate him too.   It was inevitable.  You were hostile when first meeting.  You challenged him to a few too many personal races.  You were a sore loser and even worse winner.  What started as an effort to prove something spiralled into a rivalry. 

You won the last couple races.  You gloated a little too hard and now he is refusing to race you again. 

“Sure,” you say.  “Sounds to me like you’re scared to lose for the third time in a row.” 

He just keeps walking, ignoring you, which is so much more infuriating than when he snaps back. 

You decide to keep your distance tonight.  If you continue to agitate yourself, you are going to develop a stress aneurysm.   So you keep to your own group, race your own races, and collect your own winnings. 

But, ugh.

He is right there. 

Just in the corner of your eye, just skirting the periphery of your space, just breathing the same night air.  When you are looking at him, he captivates you.  When you look away, he is like an impossible itch, begging for your attention again.  You constantly catch him looking at you too, which does not help matters. 

By the end of the night, you feel like a live wire, all electricity and unbound energy.  Not a single race has satisfied you.  You won three of four, making way more money than you lost, but it is not enough.  It is never enough.  You already know how good you are.  You know you can beat most of these guys blindfolded. 

Your only perfect match is Lee Minho.  The only victory that matters is that one. 

As the crowd disperses and everyone departs, you march towards him.  He is saying goodbye to his crewmates, his back to you, but his buddy cracks a grin when he sees you coming.  He smacks Minho on the shoulder before turning away. 

Minho turns around with a befuddled look on his face.  When he sees you, it slackens to that unamused vexation.  He pockets his hands in his leather jacket and slouches against his car.  He shakes his head as you stomp up to him. 

“One race,” you say. 

“No,” he replies, without missing a beat. 

“Why not?”

“Because I said so,” is his insufferable reply.

“That’s not an answer,” you say.

“That’s too bad.”  He gives you a final shrug then turns, opening his car door, preparing to leave. 

“Wait,” you say. 

You heart is racing.  Somehow, you feel like tonight is different from every other night.  Maybe it is the perfect crispness on the breeze, the remarkably clear sky, or maybe just the way those jeans seem to hug his thighs.  Stupid hottie.  You will have him and his attention.  You will get the better of him, one way or another.  It was all leading to this. 

“One race,” you say.  “A bet worth the mileage.” 

“I don’t need your money,” he says.

“I’m not offering money,” you reply. 

Finally, he closes the car door.  He sighs, a very loud and dramatic sigh, like you are the biggest inconvenience on earth. 

“What are you offering?” he says, facing you.  The disinterest in his tone is betrayed by the curious sweep of his gaze, an up-and-down perusal like he expects to find his prize somewhere on your body. 

Oh.

You feel flushed inside, realizing that it exactly what he is thinking.  Looking at you with a hungry, lecherous gaze, anticipating you are about to offer up yourself as a potential prize. 

It makes your heart stutter and your lips do the same, your next words all tangled up on your tongue.  It did not even occur to you to offer such a thing.  You hate him, so of course you would never think about him that way.  But now that he is looking at you like that, his expression coloured with interest and suggestion, you find yourself too shocked to even parse your feelings. 

The only thing that is obvious, abundantly obvious, is the punch of heat in your gut.  No, lower.  Heat that curls up inside you and makes you second guess.  Heat that is curious about the look in his eye. 

Then you shake your head.  You resist the urge to smack him for throwing you off.  You were in control and now you are flustered. 

“Not me,” you snap. 

His eyes, which have made their way down your whole body, follow the same path up.  He meets your gaze eventually.  Then he says nothing, because he is the worst, and just lifts an eyebrow at you. 

“My car,” you say, with no-nonsense finality.  “I bet my car.” 

He blinks at you.  Long, slow blinks like a cat.   It takes him a second to find a sentence. 

“Your car,” he says.  He tilts his head and squints, looking at you with scrutiny, like he is trying to see through your ploy.  “And what do you want if you win?” 

“Admit I’m the better driver once and for all,” you say.  The words feel a little foolish leaving your mouth.  You have been chasing the high of that confession, aggravated every time he dodged it, but saying it out loud makes you feel needy.  You clear your throat and stand straight like you are unbothered.  “That’s all I want,” you say.

He rubs a hand across his jaw, laughs incredulously, then swings his arms out at his sides. 

“Fine,” he says.

By now, everyone else has gone.  It is just you and him under the streetlights, the long empty road stretched across the dunes ahead.   You stare at one another, like there is no road and no sky, no world at all outside each other.  It is intense and all-consuming.   

You hold out a hand.  He takes it and yanks you closer to him.

“I would have told you that for free,” he says.  “Since it’s the truth.  You just had to ask.”

Now it is your turn to blink, looking at him with shock.  You would have been less stupefied if he called you a tirade of rude names, or tried to weave doubts in your mind.  Instead, he smiles at you, and it is not half as smarmy as usual.  He drops your hand and turns away, leaving you gawking at the air as he ducks into his car. 

He honks the horn, snapping you to attention. 

The heat rushes back in a hurry.  You swallow, then walk to your car on suddenly shaky legs. 

-

He wins.

Of course he wins.

You were distracted by his parting words.  You and him are so closely matched in skill that a fleeting weakness is all it takes for one to overtake the other.  You were faring well at the start, but his engine revved and your attention strayed.  Your prize was somewhat nullified by his confession, your behaviour embarrassing in hindsight.  You bet your car.  What were you thinking?

You weren’t.  And it was all his fault.   

Your car skids to a screaming halt just seconds after him.  You smack the steering wheel with frustration. 

Maybe I should have just bet my body, you think to yourself, a thought that has you shivering from something other than adrenaline.  Thoughts like that are not like you.  And Lee Minho is the last man on earth you could ever want.  Even though he is simultaneously the only man you want, or at least the only one with an opinion that matters, the only man whose attention you ever want.  He is always the highlight of your night. 

Oh god, you think with a nervous twist in your gut, I like that arrogant loser. 

Facing him is hard and it has nothing to do with losing your car. 

He is not gloating because he is not the type.  He is just leaning against his vehicle with his arms crossed, watching your nerves and passion get the better of you.  He does not flinch when you get right in his face, huffing from exertion.

“Do-over,” you say.

“Absolutely not,” he replies. 

“You got in my head on purpose.” 

“I can only do that if you let me in,” he says, looking smug.

“One more race,” you insist. 

“You have nothing left to bet.”

“Me,” you blurt.  “I bet myself.” 

You feel some satisfaction at the flicker of surprise that creases his brow, but then he is just staring and blinking again.  Your heart still thinks it is in a race, stampeding so far ahead that your whole body is awash with heat. 

“You,” he finally says.  His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, then he tilts his head in that studious way. “What does that mean?” 

You feel so hot it is making you a little woozy.  It’s just aftershocks from the race, you tell yourself, even though that heat comes from somewhere much more intimate. 

You cross your arms stubbornly.  You look away.  You even stomp your foot. 

“You know what I fucking mean,” you snap. 

“Is that how you usually get out of these situations?” he asks in a teasing tone.  “By fucking your way out of them?”

You refuse to answer.  You arms are still crossed, your face still turned.   

He touches your chin, a painfully delicate touch.  Whenever you do fuck someone, it is hard and fast, like everything else you enjoy.  Your greatest rival should be touching you with the roughest touch of all, but it is the very opposite.   It is a suggestion of a touch, little more than a caress as he turns your face to his.  You swallow until the intense focus of his sharp eyes. 

“I don’t fuck like that,” he says.  He bats his pretty eyelashes while smirking like a devil.  “I don’t have to make bets.  I make love to people because they want it.  Sorry.”  He rolls his eyes and turns away, wiggling his fingers in a sarcastic good-bye wave as he slides into his driver seat.  “You can keep your car.  I don’t want or need it.  Good night.” 

You put yourself between the door and car, stopping him from closing it.  He looks at you, eyes narrowed more intensely. 

“Now, now,” he says. 

“I’m a big girl,” you snap.  “I don’t need you protecting my honour.  I wouldn’t offer to let you fuck me if I didn’t mean it.” 

He stares at you, contemplative behind those dark eyes.  He has just returned your vehicle so you have no reason to make another bet, other than to prove the veracity of your previous offer: that you do want to fuck him, even if you don’t want to admit it.

“I told you that you can keep your car,” he says. 

You are amazed smoke is not blowing out of your ears, considering how hot your face feels. 

“I heard you,” you say. 

He gets out of the car slowly, holding your gaze the entire time.  You take a step back. 

Then he walks at you, which forces you to take another backwards step.  Step by step across the tarmac.  The breeze tousles a bit of his hair, but nothing stops his stride and his eyes never leave yours. 

You find it difficult to catch your breath.  Garnering this man’s undivided attention has been your only goal for months, and the reality of it is heady.  He is intoxicating. 

It seems the feeling is reciprocated, given how he looks at you, which just makes you stumble in your backwards trek.  He catches your wrist, tugging you upright, yanking you closer.  You collide with his chest, disoriented from so little. 

“So,” he says.  “If you win, we fuck.  And if I win, we make love.  Is that correct?” 

“Whatever, there’s no difference,” you say.  You are instinctively combative when flustered, redirecting the source of your embarrassment to confrontation. 

It seemingly works.  His attention diverts and he says, “Yes, there is.”

“No, there isn’t.” 

“Yes, there—”  He stops himself from retaliating with the same childish rejoinder.  He props his hands on his hips, shaking his head at himself as he stares up at the stars.   

Eventually he huffs, rakes his teeth over his bottom lip, then looks at you. 

“Fine,” he says.  “We’ll race.” 

Your heart is already revving like an engine.  You take another couple steps back to smirk at him triumphantly.  You walk right into your car, that smug face dropping in surprise.  It gives him the opportunity to crowd you against it, planting his hands on either side of your head.  You hold your breath. 

“You have to pass my test first,” he says. 

“Excuse me!”  Your own incredulity resounds.  You smack his chest but he does not move. 

“It’s just two questions,” he says.  “You’re a smart girl.  You’ll figure it out.” 

He is tormenting you.  You hate him.  You hope he never stops. 

“Fine,” you snap.  His smirk makes your whole belly swoop with anticipation. 

“Good,” he says, then stands back. 

You hold his stare, refusing to show any weakness.  At least you can catch your breath in the space between you. 

Then he says, “Get on your knees.” 

Your legs are already shaky – from nerves, from the dwindling adrenaline of your race.  There are a lot of reasons your knees buckle.  Plenty of explanations for why you do not hesitate, sinking to your knees right there on the road. 

Your gaze drops, flustered by his demand and your response.  You look at his shoes, all black, well-worn, scuffing the tarmac as he steps towards you. 

“Now tell me,” he says, then gathers a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back.  He meets your gaze as he says, “Is this fucking or making love?”

Then his fingers are in your mouth.  You let him in without any hesitation, like your whole body is instinctively attuned to his.  His grip is firm, his fingers relentless, undoubtedly fucking your mouth with the sloppy, mean thrust you would expect from an enemy.  Still, it feels good, unbelievably so, your mouth wet and hot and his fingers sliding over your tongue, the soft suction of your lips making his eyes blaze and his throat bob as he swallows. 

When he slides out, a trail of spit connects his fingers to your lips.  Your lips quiver with a shuddering breath. 

“Well?” he says. 

You swallow, but eventually manage a weak, “Fucking.” 

“Good,” he says, grinning that wicked grin.  “That’s one out of two.  How about this one?” 

He drops to his knees.  You are face-to-face now, kneeling on the road in the dead of night.  There are no witnesses to this scene except maybe the stars, the clear night revealing all your secrets. 

His face is as open, his expression suddenly so devastatingly soft and vulnerable.   Your breath stutters before he even moves.  He cups your cheeks with both hands and draws you to him.

Your eyes close when your lips touch.  He strokes his thumbs across your cheeks and licks into your mouth with decadent slowness, like he wants to savour every second of your taste.  Your mouths move together like they were made for each other, never racing too far ahead. A perfect give-and-take. 

When he stops, you feel dizzy and bereft, but only for a second.   He cups your jaw and tilts your face just so, then his fingers are parting your tender lips and the taste of him is on your tongue once more.  Your eyes close and you moan thoughtlessly, bobbing your head to the gentle rhythm he sets. 

“This,” he says in a feathery-light voice.

You shiver as he slowly withdraws his fingers.  He wipes his thumb across your lips to clean you.  You let him cup your chin and tilt your face, this time so he can look you in the eye. 

“Tell me what we’re doing,” he says.   

The suggestion makes you throb.  You are hot and aching when you admit, “Making love.”

“Good,” he says, then pecks your lips before rolling onto the balls of his feet and shooting upright.  “Now we can race.” 

-

It is a perfect draw. 

You are both distracted.  When you slam on the brakes in the same place at the same moment, it is with a singular purpose in mind. 

Doors slam.  You meet in the space between your vehicles. 

“I won,” you say, just to be argumentative. 

He is shrugging out of his jacket.  It his the ground.  He does not break his stride, already going for his belt.  Your knees nearly buckle again. 

“Fine,” he replies.  “Then get over here.  I’m fucking you on the hood of my car.” 

Fucking you is exactly what he does.  It is not making love.  He strips you methodically, your jacket and shirt and bra.  Your jeans get shoved down past your knees and he bends you over the hood, still warm from the purring engine.  You are hot and frantic, cheek pressed to the hood of your rival’s car while he works you open and shoves himself inside you. 

You make a sharp sound then a low moan, hands plastered to the hot hood.  He fucks you like he races you, without holding anything back because he knows you can take him. 

It feels as primal as a race, the animal instinct that conquers you in a rush of adrenaline.  It is your singular focus, the steady thud of him inside you.  You do not care about appearances, about seeming ridiculous, meeting every thrust and moan with your own.  He sounds good and feels better, your bodies in harmony, chasing each other to the finish line. 

He yanks you up, your back arching as he turns your head for a kiss.  It puts you over, clenching hard around him, setting him off.  He makes a soft sound then groans with pleasure.  He stays there for a minute, both of you breathing hard.

“I want you to keep your car,” he finally speaks, “because I need you to come back tomorrow and race me again.” 

You gasp when his hand moves between your legs, working you up again, slowly but surely.   

“Because next time I’ll win,” he says.  “You sounded so good getting fucked.  I want to see your face when you come on my cock again and again from making love.”

“Won’t happen,” you say, even while your on the cusp of doing just that. 

“Mm,” he says, then laughs that light, evil laugh as you come all over his hand.  He kisses the side of your head and says, “Wanna bet?” 

[tyunniez]

tired already?... kuroo x bottom male reader

!!.. amab reader, semi-public sex, kuroo loves to tease, bokuto almost caught the both of them lol, biting and marking, creampie, both characters are 18...

a moan resonated through the empty bathroom. the setting sun outside peeked its way into the many stalls yet the fluorescent lights overpowered it.

" k-kuroo.. finish already! w-what if someone comes in... plus i don't think i can hold myself up anymore! " you whined, trying your hardest to hold yourself up using the stall's door.

meanwhile, kuroo only got more excited at the thought of someone coming in. them being able to hear your slutty moans. how loud you were begging just for some sweet release. maybe kuroo would let them take a peek too.

" hah, bet you would love that right? " kuroo grinned and trusted into you harshly, making you choke a bit on your own spit.

how did you even get here?

" bokuto! " you yelled out at your best friend, him already running and making his way towards you.

kuroo noticed this however it was too late.

before he could even react, you already set the ball towards bokuto who was already mid-jumping. the ball spun in the air, everyone's eyes towards it.

bokuto raised his left hand and winded back his right, preparing to hit said ball. kuroo tried jumping to stop the ball but it was too late.

the moment he began jumping, the ball hit the floor with a loud thud. the sound echoing throughout the audienceless court.

a moment of silence passed by with everyone processing the victory which now belonged to the fukurodani's players.

screams of happiness broke the silence, shaking the empty court. " yeah! let's go! " you screamed out, hugging your sweaty best friends bokuto and akaashi.

the three of you hopped around in happiness after winning the game, your teammates also happily cheering around you.

the nekoma players all congratulated you upon winning the practice match, both players shaking each others hands.

a whistle interrupted you, " yn, nice save earlier! " kuroo, your close friend approached you and sat down next to you.

" oh hey kuroo! thanks heh, you were pretty awesome earlier too! " you compliment him back, sipping the last drop of water in your bottle.

he hums in acknowledgment, appearing tired from the match. " oho what's this? is the great nekoma captain tired already? " your teasing voice earned you a slight jab from him.

" ugh im not tired yet! c'mon, let's go grab some drinks at the vending machine. " kuroo got up first, leaving you to follow him on your own which you did.

your mind wandered off as you trailed behind him, thinking of what to drink to get at the vending machine. what you didn't expect though was you being pulled to the bathroom by kuroo and getting your back blown by him.

" tired already? weren't you the one who was teasing me about being tired earlier. " kuroo laughed at your face as he held you up with both hands, slamming you up and down his cock.

" now look who can't even keep himself up. "

you could only moan while grabbing onto his shoulder, your own cock already leaking and smeared with cum. " i'm close, keep going kuroo..! " you managed to moan out, clenching him harder and harder.

kuroo's cheshire smile stretched itself on his lips, clearly enjoying how dumb you were from his cock alone.

you were so so close to cuming till..

" yn? kuroo? are you here? " bokuto's cheerful voice suddenly echoed in the bathroom, causing you and kuroo to stop your movement entirely.

bokuto looked around the bathroom, shrugging when he found neither you nor kuroo. he decided why not take a quick bathroom break while he was here, completely unaware of what was going on in two stalls next to him.

he sat himself at the first stall, one stall away from him having a front-row seat to hearing you get your ass pounded.

you looked up at kuroo in fear, afraid that even a tiny squeak could make bokuto a bit too curious and start to investigate the sound.

however, kuroo on the other hand looked down at you with a sinister look in his eyes, it being pretty obvious about what he was about to do.

you shook your head at him while covering your mouth to which he turned a blind eye.

he slid you up and slammed you down on his cock harshly, the sound itself making bokuto look around, but the sound that escaped from your mouth was what made him realize what was going on.

a high-pitched moan escaped from your mouth, the sound being an obvious giveaway of what was going on in one of the stalls.

your eyes rolled up to the back of your head at the sudden sensation of being full.

your release immediately came out of your cock. the cum that was seeping out of your ass hole and dripping down onto kuroo's thigh was also just making the situation more messy.

but kuroo wasn't done yet.

he picked up the pace and began thrusting into you, the feeling of your tight walls making him go overdrive.

tears rolled down your face as you tried your best to keep quiet, afraid that your own best friend might hear you getting dicked down.

you buried your face into the crevices of kuroo's neck, bitting and sucking on his neck in an attempt to hush yourself. kuroo on the other hand enjoyed the feeling of your teeth against his skin, leaving mark after mark on him.

bokuto quickly finished his business and rushed out of the bathroom, leaving the both of you alone again.

" mhm.. hahah, you loved almost getting caught by your own best friend, didn't you? " kuroo teased, his relentless thrusting still not finished.

you shook your head while burying deeper into his neck, your tears and saliva soaking kuroo's jersey.

he laughed at you, muttering about how cute you were.

after some hellish rounds, he was finished with his tormenting of you. the both of you walked out of the bathroom with your tracksuit jacket covering the marks all over each other's bodies.

you went back to the almost empty court, trying your hardest not to limp.

" hey hey hey, yn! where were you earlier? " you looked around like a deer caught in headlights upon seeing your two best friends behind you.

" oh uh.. hey! i was just at the store nearby.. " you lied through your teeth, praying that bokuto would buy it.

thankfully he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

he nodded in understanding and began gossiping to you about how he heard some couple getting it on in the bathroom and how awkward it was since he needed to take a shit earlier.

you nodded along, acting as if that couple wasn't you and kuroo.

however, akaashi didn't seem convinced about your lie.

" yn, were you with kuroo earlier? " akaashi suddenly questioned you. your sweat dropped as you tried your hardest to not make any eye contact with either of them.

" huh oh uh yeah.. w-we were just yknow.. eating at the store together. " your voice gradually got quieter the more you talked.

akaashi hummed, as if already knowing what was going on but decided to not pry any further. meanwhile bokuto looked between you and akaashi, trying to figure out why you were so red at the simple question.

" well whatever, im tired and sweaty! let's go home now! " you thanked the world for how dense bokuto was.

you grabbed your stuff and followed behind the two men, already planning to beat the shit out of kuroo for next week's practice.

[specialgradefckr]

Anything you can do...

And what's so special about Satoru Gojo anyways? The way Satoru sees it, there's nothing the original can do that he can't. You shouldn't care about him anymore. You shouldn't care about anything but him.

This work is a part of a series! Read the first part here!

tw: explicit content. dubcon. drugging, captivity. selfcest. feet. yanderes all around. non-consensual cloning.

Gojo has one mission when he gets to you:

Clear his good name and prove to you that the "Satoru Gojo" who'd fooled you was actually a fraud.

Sure, you probably should have known from the beginning, being as obsessed with him as you were, but he had rejected you, and fixations can turn people to dark places.

It was probably all too easy for this phony to march into your life and convince you that all of your dreams had come true; Satoru Gojo loved you after all.

In a way, he feels kind of sorry for you. Really, he was about to break your heart for a second time. It's not even your fault! He himself could admit, the fake is shockingly compelling.

But you'd be devastated, truly. What a shame. To learn that all that love you received was from some stranger, a liar. That the man you desperately adored didn't really want you back.

Man, that's gonna suck for you! He tilts his head back, whistling as the car drives along.

Though he's still not really relationship material, he could probably stick around for that pity fuck. After all, you hadn't been ignoring him on purpose.

No; the reason you were ignoring him was because "he" was telling you to!

It was the perfect cover! If this guy was going to steal his identity, the number one threat to that was him - the real Gojo.

He'd probably intentionally told you to send those videos, only to laugh when you showed him the replies, and then explained that wasn't the "real" him.

The little faker must have even convinced you to keep sending them as a joke.

Then, if Gojo tried to tell you the truth, you'd just brush it off. And if he got pissed off from your messages, he might refuse to tell you at all - a win-win for the fake.

Smart. Of course, he'd probably have to be a little smart to fool you in the first place; his intelligence was one of his best traits. No way you'd mistake someone for him without it.

The car rolls up to your weirdly secluded, distant home. Kinda a pain to get to, honestly.

But it's worth it. Because if Gojo knows anything about that fake... he's probably watching right now. Who wouldn't, when Satoru Gojo was involved?

He steps out, taking time to stretch, let out a deep breath. A wide smile on his face as he stalks forward.

This is going to be fun.

What the fuck was this clown doing on your doorstep?

Satoru squints at the porch camera. Mostly just in annoyance, because he doesn't need to squint - six eyes and all.

Even then, it's hard to believe.

Not that Gojo was jealous and wanted a piece of you, now that he realized that he was missing out. That went without saying.

No, Satoru is shocked that he has the audacity to show up on your doorstep after turning you away. Rejecting you. Like he was drowning in genuine human connections and could afford to toss one out... ugh.

Even thinking about this guy feels gross.

"Go away."

The PA system is talking... in his voice. Which could be the phony, but also, you were probably obsessed with him enough to make a PA system that spoke exclusively in his voice.

Heh. You probably had it talk you through touching yourself, too, at least before the faker came around -

"So you're deaf, but I know you're not blind. DOOR IS CLOSED. GO AWAY."

A frown. "Well, that's not very nice of you."

"Oh, so you can speak? Well, shut up and leave. Loser."

Wait, no. No way this creep is calling him a loser.

"You want me gone that bad, huh?" Gojo slinks up to the doorway carelessly, ready to blast the handle open, "Gosh, must have something you reeeeaaaaally wanna hide, huh?"

"Typical." The PA system complains while he busts the door down, "Self-centered asshole doesn't know when he's not wanted. But that's just another day for you, isn't it?"

He pauses. "Wow. You know a lot about me. I didn't know I had two stalkers on board~"

There's an audible snort. "This is why you have no friends."

"I have tons of friends!" Comes Gojo's protest as he glances around the living room.

"Your students aren't friends, and they don't like you."

"Yuji likes me," Gojo strides quickly down the hallway, glaring with his six eyes for signs of life in the building, cursed energy.

"Yuji likes everyone. You also have no life."

The grin on his face turns sharp, wicked. "I have more of a life than you do. Taking on someone else's identity. Pretty scummy way of getting a girl's heart, don't you think?"

There's a pause - it's good to know he's shocked the phony into silence.

"You..."

Closer, now. He can see it! The cursed energy is concentrated, just inside this room -

And it's -

It's -

Him.

It's him. It's - it's Satoru Gojo, staring right back at him. The six eyes in the mirror. Only it's not a mirror, but a real, living person.

This is where Gojo decides he must be in a dream. Or a domain. Maybe you activated a secret curse technique? And this is a manifestation of your desire for him?

"...even hear me. Hello? HELLO? Stop staring and get the hell out of here. You'll wake her up."

Huh.

It's like he's talking to himself. It's him.

"How are you..." He trails off, tugging down the blindfold as he gesturing to the man across from him, "Your eyes. You have my eyes."

"You have my eyes, actually," Satoru answers without missing a beat, "I was here first."

Of course, he absolutely was not, but Gojo doesn't know that.

Gojo is pretty sure this guy is lying.

"Here first? Like, born first?" He glances down, catching you on the sofa, laying down, head in the other-Satoru's lap. "I got a twin brother I don't know about?"

No way the Gojo clan would be able to shut up and keep a secret like that to themselves. And even if they could, Gojo wouldn't be a little brother. He'd be the older one.

"Sure," Satoru says, in a hushed tone, with marked annoyance, "Now shut up and get out of your big brother's room. She's sleeping."

And you are. But from what he can see inside your brain activity, it's not normal sleep.

"Yeah, sure. Sleeping." His voice lowers. Cools. "Are you that desperate for my leftovers? Leave her alone."

And it is piercing, the glare that hits him. Six eyes going straight through him like an icicle. His own face twisted in an anger he doesn't think he's ever seen -

It's hot. Super hot. And unsettling, and strange, and he is so, so hard right now.

"Why don't you leave her alone?" Satoru hisses as you stir, "You're so jealous you had to come here?"

"Mmm..." Your eyes flick open, and Satoru's attention is immediately ripped off him.

He brushes your hair away from your eyes, leaning in to kiss your temple with a quiet, soothing hum.

Gojo's lips purse. All those videos; this guy fucking you, eating you out, ravishing you like a starving monster, using you like a fleshlight - and none of it had made him feel like this.

Something churns in his stomach. "Answer the question. What did you do to her? What did you tell her?"

"I love you," Satoru says, still staring at your sleepy-eyed face, and Gojo feels his stomach twist.

He stares, frozen in place. Satoru doesn't even look up at him.

"...Sa...toru...?" You mumble weakly, head falling to the side as if just that phrase was too taxing for you.

"Mmm-hmm, it's me!" Satoru smiles, a warm, fond look that goes all the way to his eyes. "I'm right here, love."

Creepy. The way he strokes your hair, holds you, dotes on you like you're some kind of pet. You're barely dressed, but not in anything erotic - just a large T-shirt. Probably one of his.

It's nauseating. Intimate. Domestic.

He's throbbing.

The worst part is, Gojo doesn't know if he's jealous of him - or you.

Because fuck, that smile looks good on his face. Features soft, glowing like a sunset, faint pink dusting his cheeks. Even the six eyes look like an ocean of warmth, affection, dripping down onto you. Those hands are fine, and cupping your face like that makes them appear even larger. Makes you look smaller.

And you're so cute like this. All tiny, curled up underneath him. He'd seen you commanding, cool, demanding, in the throes of pleasure, and unraveling; delicious, every time.

Not like this. Curled up and docile, nuzzling into his touch like a sleepy kitten. Leaning into him like an anchor, seeking out contact as naturally as you breathe. He feels sick with want.

"What did you do to her?" He says. The words sound out of place in this room, unwelcome in this sanctuary, "Drugs? Cursed energy?"

"Eh. Little bit of column A, little bit of column B. What's it to you?" Those eyes gleam quickly up at him, "This is your leftovers, right?"

"Please. She's clearly not over me if she's sending me your little sex tapes." Gojo takes a step closer, pulse soaring in his ears. "And you didn't answer my other question. What did you tell her?"

Satoru glares. "So you are deaf. You were right there when I said it. I love you."

It's so strange. His chest twists, hearing the words in his voice.

...he's never heard those words in his voice, has he?

"Not what I meant," Gojo skips over the issue entirely, "Did she find out that you're not me? Is that why you had to drug her?"

Satoru blinks his big blue eyes.

Silence.

He blinks again.

"You think-" A hand reaches up to Satoru's shirt, tugging, and he's looking down again, "Awh, what is it, sweetie?"

"Would you answer the damn-"

"Shut up!" Satoru snaps, pulling you carefully to sit up on his lap.

You fall against his chest limply, secured by an arm around your waist. Head tucked under his chin.

"You thirsty? Hungry? Wanna cum, baby? Just say the word." Satoru isn't even looking at him.

It's just - it's so annoying. This little shit sitting here like nothing's wrong, like he hasn't stolen Gojo's entire appearance and identity just to get with you.

He's got the fucking six eyes, and he can heal other people with reverse curse technique, and this is what he does? Fusses over you like a mother hen? Like you're the center of his world?

"You're disgusting," Gojo spits, surprised by his own vehemence. "Let her go."

You whimper and Satoru squeezes you.

Gojo watches; in horror, fascination, frozen to his spot as he watches Satoru's arm reach down, rolling up your shirt -

You're not wearing anything under there.

"Mmmhm..." You moan, lashes fluttering. Reaching up to grasp Satoru's muscled arm, weaky, while you writhe.

The sound sends tremors down his back, heat pooling in his gut.

Satoru meets his gaze with a low, knowing smirk. "Don't think she wants me to."

Gojo's feet take him another step closer. He's maybe one step away from you; two, max.

"And for the record, she's completely over you. I thought the videos would be evidence enough of that," Satoru shifts you in his lap, tugging your shirt up enough to bare your breasts, your cunt.

His hands roam your chest - they look so big on you, so wide, grasping, groping playfully over your torso, your breasts, drawing little noises out from you as you squirm fruitlessly in his lap.

His legs keep yours open. Wide.

It's dripping. Right in front of him. He feels like a deer in headlights, pinned in place at the sight of his own longer fingers plunging into your wet -

"But if you needed to see it in person so badly," Satoru drawls, and because he's closer, it's louder, lower, "Knock yourself out."

Those eyes meet him - his eyes - deep blue, intent, full of challenge -

Gojo lunges, driving his lips against Satoru's, shoving him against the sofa. You yelp, pinned between them, before Satoru pulls you closer with a hiss as he pulls away.

"The fuck are you doing?!" He glares - but his cheeks are dusted pink.

You squirm deliciously, and Gojo catches Satoru shifting behind you.

Straddling you, shamelessly, he grinds his bulge right up against you, and you moan, clenching on Satoru's fingers. He brushes Satoru's arm with his dick, too - heh. Let him see what he's packing.

Gojo doesn't tear his eyes away from Satoru's as he closes in on you, kissing at your cheek softly, "Is that true, baby?" He murmurs, sneaking a hand up along your torso to squeeze an exposed breast, "You're over me?"

Satoru's arm - the one that isn't fingering you - shoves at him, but Gojo doesn't budge.

"Come oooooon," He croons, nuzzling into your cheek as he holds his gaze, "You're not afraid of a little healthy competition. Are you?"

Close, closer - until their noses nearly touch. Until Satoru can see his eyes glitter with challenge.

"As if," Satoru rises to the bait, just like he would in his place. "I'm worried you don't know how to touch a woman. Seriously, not sure if you ever have."

He doesn't hesitate. He reaches straight for Satoru's dick - oh, it's long, hard, just as proud and pretty as in all the videos.

Just like his. Twitching as he tightens his grip.

The grunt he makes, face wincing in pleasure-pain; it's a familiar feeling to him, too.

"Awh, worried about little old me?" His smile bares teeth, "You're too kind."

He squeezes, drawing his hand up along Satoru's dick, watching his own handsome reflection tense in what he knows is mounting pleasure, a heady throb in his gut that always surges as he squeezes tighter at the shaft.

"Straight for the dick? Guess that's the only thing straight about you. Or maybe you're just that self-obsessed," Satoru taunts, as if his own dick isn't pulsing at a touch so like his own. "Just keep your hands off her."

And that last demand sends his gut churning. Something in him is enflamed.

He burns for it, for Satoru in front of him, possessive and beautiful, for you, delicate and treasured, for this thing between the two of you that magnetizes Satoru to your side and turns you to putty in his arms.

He wants. He wants he wants he wants and Satoru Gojo is not a man accustomed to being denied.

"Nah," Gojo nuzzles into your neck, sucking, nipping, watching Satoru's eyes linger hatefully on the mark he leaves, "I don't think I will."

After all, he's got to prove him wrong, right?

You're barely conscious most times Satoru wakes you.

It's not bad. At least you don't think it is, with your limited capacity to think.

The feeling is similar to being very sleepy, or very drunk. Half-stuck in a dream, only vaguely aware of your surroundings and what's going on.

But it doesn't matter, because Satoru is a diligent nursemaid. When he wants to be, anyways. When you need him to.

He brings you food, water. Feeds you, helps you sit up and drink. Distantly, you realize everything is probably laced, but it's all properly dosed, you're sure.

Otherwise you wouldn't be able to think this much. In these hazy moments when you can recognize what's happening.

So when you see another Satoru in the room, despite the warm body against your own, the breath on your neck, the arm around your waist - you aren't immediately worried.

Now, though?

Now you're a little bit worried.

"Who..." Your question falls seemingly on deaf ears as Gojo tilts your head to the side, sucking a mark into your neck.

It doesn't hurt, but Satoru's fingers curl tight inside you, his thumb brushing your clit, and you whine.

"Shhh, baby," Satoru murmurs from behind you, into your ear, "You worry too much. Don't worry, just sit back and enjoy."

"Oh, so now she's your pillow princess?" Gojo hums, "Big change from being her little slut locked up in a cock cage."

A scoff, cool against the saliva-slick skin on your neck, "Jealous much? I have someone who wants to make me feel good."

Satoru's fingers slip out of you, and you let out a breath, reaching up with your arms against the chest in front of you.

"Bet she wants to make me feel good, too," Pressing closer to you, "Bet she couldn't even tell the difference."

His chest is large, firm against your hands. The muscles are more defined, larger - even with the same genetics, Satoru doesn't get the exercise Gojo does - but you barely notice.

"Course she can't. She could hardly tell you her own name - not that you deserve to say it." And then a groan, "F-fuck. Let go of my dick already, you creep."

"Why, so you can fuck her?" A snicker, "You act so sweet on her, but you're really just using her to get off, yeah?"

"The fuck would you know about acting sweet? Have you ever told anyone you love them?"

There's a pause, there, where you feel the heat growing restlessly around you. Dazed, heated.

"Satoru...?" You mumble, head tilting to the side, cheek rubbing into the familiar cloud of white hair.

"...See? No difference." Gojo lifts his head, handsome face coming up to meet yours, "I'm just as good as him, right baby?"

His words are lost on you. All you can do is lean in for a kiss, lashes lowered, and feel his lips move against yours.

"Like I said," Arms, tighten around you, "Doesn't mean anything. You couldn't give her what she needed, and now you're nursing your wounded ego because I came around and did it better."

"You think?" All you catch is the sparkle of those crystal blue eyes.

He pulls away, tongue sticking out, lips still slick with saliva threading between your mouths.

Gojo's eyes catch Satoru's. "Bet I can make her cum with my mouth before you can with your dick."

"Sure, give yourself the biggest advantage," Satoru sneers, "Should I give you a ten minute head start, too, so you can find the clit first?"

Gojo slinks backwards, falling to his knees.

From your perspective, all you see is Satoru backing away from you - you whimper, reaching out weakly, voice low and longing.

It feels like a knife to his chest, looking at your face. The naked despair, the raw desire to have him back in your arms -

But it's only a moment before Satoru reassures you, kisses your cheek. Melting into his embrace comes naturally, relaxing as soon as you know your love has not left you.

It's as if you have to be touching him at all times. Like you need him the way you need air. It's cringey, codependent, but Gojo supposes that's the kind of sappy unrealistic stuff you're into.

He puts a hand on either of Satoru's knees, spreading his legs and yours.

"Up you go, baby," Satoru hums as he lifts you, and your feel his cock slip underneath your ass as he pulls you flush against his chest.

He bites his lip as Gojo snatches his cock without hesitation, guiding the head of it to slip past your entrance with a smirk.

"Could do both of you at once," He crows, "Your dick sure wasn't complaining about my touch."

And he knows exactly how to touch - to trace that weeping head with his thumb to get precum pearling at the tip, all mottled red and purple as it throbs in his hand.

"What can I say," Satoru shoots back, "You're obviously an expert. You and your hand must be so happy together."

Gojo fists his hand around his dick with a mean smile, clenching hard as he smirks up at him. Satoru bites his lip and holds you tighter.

"Baby," Satoru whispers, tilting your face to look back at him, "Cum with me, yeah? I'll tell you when, and you just gotta let go then."

"Oh, now you think she's gonna be the trained whore?" Gojo drawls, pressing Satoru's dick against your cunt. Still not inside, but enough to make you moan while Satoru hisses.

"Like you can say that," He grinds out, "You don't know anything about her."

"I saw your little videos," His eyes twinkle from between Satoru's legs; how he hates that face... but fuck if he's gorgeous, "You spoil her. Greedy little thing. She's used to getting whatever she wants from you."

Gojo's face slides up, up your thigh.

"Yeah she is, I do it on purpose. Cause I can." Satoru sticks his tongue out, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Unlike you."

Closing in on your cunt, on his cock, Gojo licks a line up Satoru's dick, enough to make him tense behind you.

"Yeah? You think so?" He suckles briefly at the trickle of cum at the head of Satoru's cock, making eye contact while he does. Unfliching.

And fuck, he looks good sucking dick. Satoru kinda wishes you had one, now... ooooh. Maybe a strap-on? Even more fun.

A slap on your thigh tugs his attention right back to the matter at hand.

"Don't make her wait any longer," Satoru lays a kiss by your temple, and you hum, "Or you can disappoint her with your shitty head game, and then put it in. Up to you, I guess."

"Shitty head game?" Hands guide his dick towards your entrance, as if he'd been waiting for the challenge.

A strangled moan escapes him as he slips into you, rutting his hips up. Open, shameless, because you're just that good. All wet and hot and clenching around him like your cunt can't stand to see him go.

It feels like he just belongs inside you. His hands reflexively trace over your cunt, your clit, where Gojo slaps them away.

"Hey, hey, no sabotage." If nothing else, Gojo does have sharp eyes.

He darts to the crest of your folds, right where Satoru's fingers had traced, opening his mouth over it.

At first he drools, taking in your scent. Those videos - the ones of your pet lookalike eating you out for hours, a hand in his hair like a leash.

Lapping, whining, drooling over you like a trained dog. Just the memory makes his dick throb. Mouth water.

Gojo spreads his mouth wide like he's seen, drawing his tongue over Satoru's plunging cock, up towards the swollen bud that seems to pulse against his teeth.

Careful, boy. Don't bite. The memory sends his hands clenching at your thighs as he devours you.

His mouth is so wet and warm it feels like it's melting over you, candle wax pressing hot into your clit as your walls stretch and stretch.

Dizzying. It's all so much, all heat swirling around you, inside you. Pleasure roils heavy, weighted, dragging you along in the surge of sensation.

He licks at your clit, all soft and perfect and it just swells like water against a dam, cresting to meet the tip of his tongue pressing into you-

"Shh, baby, not yet," Hands on your jaw, large, gentle, turning your head, "Look at me, hm?"

You do, helplessly, with a whimper, bucking into the mouth and the cock that have your insides churning.

Eyes. Pretty, pretty, the bluest eyes. "S-sa- ah - Satoru?" It comes out as a whimper, or maybe a plea, as you stare, enraptured.

He smiles and it's an instant reaction, a flutter in your chest that makes you squeeze around him.

Whatever he wanted to say is lost to a gasp, to the overwhelming embrace of your walls against him.

Satoru groans, and then he feels a wet, burning line trail up his dick as he pulls it out to drive into you again. Fuck, he's close.

"Lost all your endurance already, huh?" Gojo says, casually, mouth right next to Satoru's dick like he's having a fucking conversation with it. "Loser. It hasn't been long and you're about to bust a nut already."

And damn, he might be. There's something enrapturing about seeing his own face flushed and smug and nuzzling up to his cock like a hungry slut.

He clutches you like a living, breathing lifeline, nuzzles into your neck like it can protect him from the nasty whore's mean words.

"Didn't take long, did it? You lost all the patience she painstakingly trained into you as soon as you got the chance to stick it in whenever."

Satoru must have something in common with the dirty, filthy slut he was clone from, because those teasing words has his cock pulsing, heat building as he plunges back into the safe haven of your cunt.

Gojo watches from below, mouth gaping wide open over Satoru's cock as it drives in, out, in, out again. Breath hot over your clit, nudging it with his nose until you whine again.

Your eyes flick away from Satoru - and over to him - the same face.

You reach out a hand to pet his hair. Soft, fluffy; he rubs his head into your touch. Breath hot on where your bodies join.

"Hnnngh," His cock is straining, throbbing against the front of his pants; Gojo pulls away, lips still sticky.

Resting his head on your knee, he looks up at you - both of you - with big, wide eyes. A pout on his lip.

"Come oooon," He holds your leg, "Help a guy out, yeah?"

"You still haven't made her cum yet. Do you really wanna make it harder for yourself?"

His grin bares teeth. "Yup."

Somehow, though, he stares a moment too long into Gojo's eyes, into that flushed and fiendish face looking back up with him with barely contained need and hunger.

Satoru shifts your leg, "Come on, baby, like this-"

And soon he's groaning, his tall, lanky form jerking as your foot presses against the bulge in his pants. Satoru's foot guides yours down, down, where he grinds against it.

Gojo falls back into your joined sexes, moaning, panting, slobbering all over you both.

The original Satoru Gojo sure was a fucking whore. No wonder you were so anxious; this guy had no sense of shame, and probably no loyalty, either.

Your hands are still buried in his hair as he ravages your sex. It's so stimulating; the press of your foot down on his screaming erection, the salt of your slick on his tongue, the delicious friction of Satoru's dick pumping in and out - faster, now.

He widens his mouth to cover where his dick slides into you, sucking at the heated shaft as he purses his lips over your poor, tender bud.

"F-fuck," Your voice is broken in your throat, heart racing, it just feels so good, pleasure surging from your tightly wound core, "S-satoru-"

Satoru feels you clenching and squeezes for dear life, "Come on - you can hold - hold it-"

But the words escape him; as he, too, winces, choking on his own pleasure. Muscled abs clench behind you as he finally thrusts home, burying his face in your neck and biting down.

Liquid heat surges inside you and you wail; you feel yourself clamp down, waves of pleasure rushing in as you milk him.

Fingers dig into Gojo's hair and then the pressure on his dick increases. It's so fucking hard, swollen, pulsing against the force against it until it -

"Hnnngh," The sigh escapes him, ghosting over the burning, slick skin of your cunt and the dick embedded in it.

He mouths over it lazily. Tasting your shared cum as the afterglow bubbles through him.

You're glassy-eyed, panting; Gojo watches the mesmerizing rise and fall of your bared breasts. They're marked red, but he can't tell his handprints from Satoru's.

Fuck, you really are pretty. A vision, really, in this state.

Satoru behind you is no less so, all pink and flushed and lovestruck in the comedown. His eyes haven't left you for the last few minutes, but they dart towards Gojo has he slowly begins to recover. As brilliant and blue as his own.

He could almost get hard again just at the sight. If the stupid body double starts mouthing off again, he may anyways.

"That was totally me, by the way." Eh. Never mind.

When he looks up again, he sees your neck, bruised up where he'd sucked a mark earlier. It's darker, now. Heavier.

"You're crazy," He lays a hand on your thigh, shaking gently, "I was the one who got her off. Here, we'll even ask her."

"Mmm..." You stir, slumping back onto Satoru, whose arms wrap around your chest and tug you flush against him.

"Ignore him, baby," Satoru kisses up the other side of your neck, sucking a hickey or two as he goes, "You don't need that stupid prick."

"Lucky her," Gojo hums, "I'm here anyways. I didn't see you complaining either, when I had my mouth on you."

A kick of his foot - and Satoru discovers the bulge just underneath his foot had softened. When Gojo pulls away, there's a wet stain on the front of his pants. Satoru snorts.

"You seriously just got off to sucking us both off?"

"Like you wouldn't have gotten off to the same thing."

"Yeah, but only cause of her."

Discreetly, Gojo gives your leg another shake. Your straighten, slightly, and look over at him.

"Satoru?" Your voice is clearer, now, recognition lighting up in your eyes.

"A little familiar, but I guess I did have my mouth on your pussy just a couple minutes ago," He smiles that charming smile you love so much.

But the feeling of warmth, of security, the fine muscled form behind you, the soft hair against your cheek and the mouth that sucks and gnaws mindlessly at your neck; it's unmistakably your Satoru.

There's... only one other person it can be.

"Gojo?" You squint, and he laughs.

"Bingo!" He flops down on the couch, laying his head comfortably in your lap.

Satoru groans, half-heartedly shoving him away, but Gojo's already snuggling up to you.

You stare at Gojo silently, unblinking. He catches your gaze, smiling back, winking, even, despite your expression not changing.

"Aren't you... angry with me?" You say, slowly, as the pounding in your head recedes.

Gojo tilts his head to the side. "Why would I be angry? You weren't the one sending the videos?"

"What videos?" You frown, "And no, I mean... you know." You gesture to Satoru. "The clone."

"The videos of you and - the CLONE?!"

[miirohs]

sore wa hanabi [k.s]

pairing: Ken Sato x GN!Reader wc: 1.4k cw: n/a an: this was inspired by hanabi by ikimonogakari and motospeed 24 by bibi, i fucking love those songs so much UGH. pls ignore the plot holes i was tired and it was like 12 when i started!!! i love writing chat

The last of the sunlight rippled across the water, a slow breeze blowing past you on the steps of the house, watching as the city seemed to come alive.

The sounds of a motorcycle in the distance distracted you, head shooting up from your knees as Professor Sato limped out of the front door, gently setting down his walking stick as he sat next to you.

“He’s coming back home then?”

It wasn’t really a question, rather a statement.

“I believe so. He was out for interviews almost all day.”

He didn’t respond, digging into the pocket of his khaki vest, pulling out a worn flyer and handing it to you.

“What is this?” You asked, gently unfolding the colorful paper.

“It was a fireworks festival. I’m sure they still hold them yearly around here, and Emiko took Kenji often when he was younger. I’ve seen it myself from the apartments sometimes, and they’re a sight to see.” He explained softly, smiling into the distance as your eyes flitted over the contents.

“I see, but what exactly-”

“I think you should go see them, you and Kenji need some alone time as well,” He didn’t let you finish, poking your leg with his walking stick, “Plus, it would be good for me and Mina because we need to get more data on Emi, and Ken won’t let us do that without breath down my shoulders about us hurting her.” 

You could barely respond as he got up, limping his way back to the door without further explanation. “But Ken is going to want to see Emi and-”

“Me and Mina can take care of her if anything happens. If the boy troubles you about that, tell him I told you he was to do so. He may be Ultraman now, but I'm still his father!” He cackled, shaking his head affectionately as he closed the door gently.

The light was gone now, but you could hear the sound of his bike getting closer, rubbing your arms to regain your warmth as you waited. Soon enough, Ken appeared against the twilight sky, silhouette illuminated by the headlights of his parked bike.

“Hey baby, what are you doing out here?” he greeted, tone filled with a mixture of exhaustion and relief upon seeing you.

“The weather was nice out, and the view was gorgeous.” You responded, turning to him as he sat down next to you. “The view is gorgeous from inside too,” He joked, intertwining a hand into yours, “I don’t get why you wanna sit out here, it’s cold and you don’t even have a jacket on.”

You clutched the paper in your other, taking a deep breath in. You had no reason not to, it could be a good surprise.

“You know, i was thinking we haven’t had a proper date night since we moved here and-”

“We had a movie night though!” Ken chimed in, staring at you, confused. It was like he couldn’t see where you were going with it. “Yes, we had a movie night honey, but it was interrupted every ten minutes by the loud baby we happen to be taking care of, remember?” You said, exasperated. 

“I would baby, but what about Emi?” 

“Your dad and Mina can take care of her. He said you’d trouble me about it, and that I should tell you that he insists.” You tilted your head towards the city.

Ken chuckled, shaking his head. “That sounds like him honestly, but where do you wanna go? You gotta have something planned if you’re insisting on dragging me out.”

“I was thinking we could ride through the city, I'm pretty sure the seaside looks gorgeous at night.” You could barely hold back your smile as he wrinkled his nose, it was almost like you could see the gears turning in his head.

The exhaustion almost seemed to leave his face, a smile taking its place. “Alright, you win. Go get your jacket and meet me out here in… five?” You nodded, getting up from your spot.

“Five minutes,” you repeated to yourself softly, heading inside to grab your jacket. The excitement was building as you folded up the paper, gently hiding it in your pocket as you grabbed your helmet.

He was already near the motorcycle, leaned over the dashboard as you approached him, barely able to contain the excitement.

“I think you remember how to ride a bike, right baby?” You nodded, allowing him to put your helmet on for you, securing it till you felt comfortable. “Of course. I’m ready when you are.”

Ken winked, helping you onto the bike before climbing on himself. The engine roared to life and you wrapped your arms around his waist, adrenaline running through your veins as you started down the path. The wind was fast, seawater blowing into your face as you both skirted across the water.

​​The city was a blur of nightlights as you weaved through the streets, laughs of delight leaving your mouth as you turned and sped down the straights. The neon signs and billboards created a colorful mosaic, a dazzling display of light. 

Ken glanced back at you briefly, shouting something at you, a wide smile on his face as he pressed down on the accelerator.

“This feels so familiar, what are you doing to make this happen baby?!” You pressed your face into his face, barely hiding the grin on your face as you shouted back. “A magician never tells Ji!” 

You slowed near the city limits, allowing for you to nudge him in the direction you wanted to go. The city faded into quieter roads, riding on the outskirts of the city, the smell of the sea intermingling with the scent of his perfume. The waves crashed against the seawall, spraying you with water.

You looked up, narrowed eyes growing wide as bright lights went off in the sky.

“There, look!” you exclaimed, your voice barely audible over the rush of wind and the distant explosions of the fireworks. You squeezed Ken’s waist, taking one hand off to point up at the sky.

He followed your hand, relaxing in awe as he watched the colorful display unfold above you. It wasn’t long until you found a place to park, Ken eagerly pulling you off the motorcycle, running down to the beach with you in hand.

“Sup- Whoa, surprise Ji!” You laughed as you both stumbled, pulling closer to the source of the lights. The sand was surprisingly cool beneath your feet as you stood on the shore, fireworks exploding in a variety of colors.

Greens, pinks and golds colored the sky, painting the dark with bangs of light, fizzling out just as quickly as they came up.

“Your mom used to bring you here before you moved, didn’t she?” You looked at him, the light reflecting in his glassy eyes, softened by nostalgia.

"Yeah, she did. How did you know?"

“I’ve heard a thing or two about your trips.” You commented to the side, allowing him to lead you aimlessly, "I thought you might like to revisit those memories." You squeezed his hand as he paused once more, turning to look at you.

“She used to call them something else- hanabi. It was the Japanese word for fireworks, I think.” He brought up a hand, wiping his eye on his free arm.

“That sounds beautiful,” You turned to him, floating closer and closer every second.

There was nothing more to be said, holding his hand with as much affection as you could, fireworks exploding somewhere in the background. The light illuminated the sharpness of his features, and you leaned in, closing the distance between you and Ken. 

His lips met yours, soft yet firm. The fireworks seemed to pause for that brief moment, allowing you to be trapped in the bubble you’d made for yourselves. Ken's arms were wrapped around you, holding you close as if he was never going to let go.

en rested his forehead against yours as you pulled apart. His eyes scanned yours, as if trying to capture every detail of the moment to memory.

"I've missed this," Ken murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as you pulled away.

“No kidding, we should do this more often shouldn’t we?” You giggled, running your finger down the ridges of his nose, booping the tip.

Ken nodded quietly, allowing you to lean in closer once more. "Definitely. It's moments like these that make life more bearable."

You leaned in again, brushing your lips against his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder. The last of the embers faded into the sky, pieces of your heart drifting off with them as you watched Ken.

"Let's come back here again," Ken suggested softly, his voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the waves. "Definitely," you agreed. You could get used to it.

[midnightshindig]

Single Mama! Reader with Cecil or Donald headcanons, pretty please. I’ll give you my prized Pokémon book for it.

Donald and Cecil x SingleMom!Reader

oh my god i read this as sigma while scrolling through requests and had an aneurysm I'm so fucking brain rotted

anyways- Cecil and Donal are separate hcs, sorry if these are sort of short!

hcs under the cut!

Cecil

Cecil is ambivalent and distant

he's not against you having a kid, but he doesn't know what to do with it

"Want a beer?" "HES FOUR" type shit

For the most part he treats your kid as cordially as possible.

If they're an elementary schooler, he might try and bribe them into liking him with toys

If they're more like a middle or high schooler, however, he treats them with respect

Cecil over her shaking some fourteen year olds hand like "I promise my intentions with your mother are good, I'm a good man and she's a great woman."

like oh my god just stooooop

but they lowkey kind of love it? Like, he's so aloof and weird, your kid(s) adore him

It's a very parallel-play type of thing

Cecil and you will be watching a movie and your kid will come downstairs and sit on the other side of the couch, casually reading a book or playing their 3ds or something

If your kid is interested in government or safety, Cecil will happily take them under his wing

You come back from the bathroom to find Cecil explaining calculus to your high schooler

or explaining the concept of government to your eight year old, who is happily absorbing it all like a sponge

He keeps it age appropriate

Cecil has a LOT of resources

So when he wants to take you out, you've got your pick of the best babysitters in the world

It's usually Donald ngl

sometimes, though, a teenage superhero will volunteer to babysit for some extra cash

So Eve-- or, more accurately-- Rex and Rae-- come over to babysit.

(ignore season three for these purposes- stfu it's cute)

And Cecil takes you out on the town

being a single mom means you have a hard time getting to be just Y/n, not Y/n the mom

Cecil makes sure you know how special you are

Corny ass man probably takes you swing dancing or something

Red Lobster type mf

I'm kidding he takes you to a very nice dinner

and buys an extra dessert for your kid <3

Donald

BIG nerd

Your kid like pokemon? Oh he's studying up rn to impress them

Because of this Donald's at work reading Warrior Cats and Cecil is like "Donald what the fuck is that?"

"Oh- My girlfriend's kid is really into this serious, I want to make a good impression."

"A grown man having warrior cats knowledge is terrifying, Donald."

psshhh whatever Donald doesn't care.

Tries to win over your kid by showing off his robotic features (once he gets used to it himself)

WILL take your kid to the park with you as a date

I hc Donald probably doesn't have too much in the way of his own family, so he's charmed by yours

Donald likes to take your kid(s) with you on dates

Group family dates if you will

So you all go to the movies, or maybe to dinner every now and again, stuff like that

But he makes time for just you don't you worry.

Type of dude to throw your kids in the air.

he's just casually available and emotionally supportive

ALSO teaches your children stuff, but more like history or lower level math

I have the very specific image in my head of your 3rd/4th grader coming home crying because her school is doing a daddy daughter dance and like.... she doesn't have a dad? What is she going to do?

You offer her to bring her uncle, or maybe she could bring you?

Donald comes back from the store with groceries for dinner and your daughter lights up

"I want Donald to take me!"

"Hm?" he puts the bags down to high five your daughter hello "Take you to what, kid?"

You sighed, leaning awkwardly against the kitchen counter "She's having a daddy daughter dance at school- Honey, why don't you take your uncle?"

Donalds eyes widen and he has to hold back a wobbly smile "No it's okay! I'll take her." Oh fuck it, dude is smiling

Ugh i'm a wreck he's so sweet

He's not trying to replace their dad or anything

like literally "not the step dad he's the dad who stepped up"