#Inside the Media Center

[gorejo]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

damn, wish I looked that good kicking someone. 

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

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

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

SATORU HAS A GIRLFRIEND? I’M SICKKKKKKK

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Any hints as to who —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he swears he saw stars when he hears you.

 — “Me.”

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

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

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

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

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

Not, him.

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

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

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

Moments before —

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dating Gojo Satoru. That would be nice. 

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

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

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

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

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

Win after fucking. And a loss without it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is there an option to decline?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"what if —"

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

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

— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Close friends. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sometimes I wish he would be —” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ahh Gojo-san! Look this way!”

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

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

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

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

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

Did he just fucking wink at me? 

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

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

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

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

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

“Gojo Satoru, I swear —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes sir,” the team harmoniously responded.

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

Sophomore year, summer —

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

It all started during your second year of university. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Starting is always the hardest, the rest is easy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it felt good — so fucking good. 

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

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

“No — ’Toru please —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—if I’m a virgin or not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You were saying?” he grinned.

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

Day of finals, thirty seconds till the game starts —

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

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

“Me? Don’t know if Satoru —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tokyo (3): Kyoto (3)

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

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

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

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

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

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

the one that desperately fucked you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“good luck today,” you whispered.

Luck? he didn't need.

But you? he absolutely, detrimentally did.

Or, the latter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The key to your door opens at the exact time. 

He grins when you walk up to greet him.

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

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

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

“I have food —” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"what the fuck?" you suddenly gasped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“at least your pussy is honest.”

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tokyo (4): Kyoto (5)

Intermission before the third, final period —

A tie (6:6)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Twelve minutes till game —

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From: Suguru

Don’t get mad… 

To: Suguru

You saying this makes me already mad. What happened?

From: Suguru

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

To: Suguru

I swear to god if you guys play —

From: Suguru

... it's his fault.

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

Thud! 

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

“It’s me.” You curtly announced.

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

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

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

“I’m already mad, Satoru —”

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

“Wait! What I meant was —”

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

He’ll cum.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

Two minutes till game —

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[thoughtportal]

This is a developing news story and may be updated as more information is obtained. If you value such information, please support this Substack.

On Dec. 1, a woman immolated herself with a Palestinian flag outside the Israeli consulate in Atlanta.

Now, according to the Atlanta Fire Rescue Department, the woman — referred to in their report as “Jane Doe” — is alive and “in stable condition” at Grady Memorial Hospital, where she has been since the immolation.

After repeated requests for her name, the department stated to this reporter in an email that it “does not disclose the identities of victims”. Repeated inquiries to Grady, which is a public hospital, went unanswered. The hospital houses the Walter L. Ingram Burn Center.

“Jane Doe” is 27.

When asked if they had made any comment to tell the public that she was still alive this entire time, the official at Atlanta Fire Rescue Department said they “shared the last updated with local media via email on 12/21/23. The release stated: ‘The victim remains hospitalized in critical condition. The security guard, who attempted to assist the burn victim, has been released from the hospital.’” Several internet searches on that quote produce no results. This would also indicate that "Jane Doe" went from critical to stable condition without public notice. 

Aaron Bushnell immolated himself at the Israeli embassy in Washington, D.C. on Sunday, explaining “I will no longer be complicit in genocide” and shouting “Free Palestine!” repeatedly as he burned alive. So, his case — unlike many other self-immolations including Gregory Levey, Raymond Moules, Timothy T. Brown, Malachi Ritscher and others — has received some attention. Thus, “Jane Doe” being ignored fits with the usual pattern. Bushnell is the exception — probably because he livestreamed it. See “Ignoring Immolators Lulls the Society to Sleep.”

As Bushnell was burning himself alive, an officer pointed a gun at him, barking orders as if he constituted a threat. A security guard, Michael Harris, sustained injuries working to rescue “Jane Doe” — but there were similarities, where she was actually viewed as a potential threat.

At one point, the police report for “Jane Doe” refers to it as being a case of “arson”.

Much of the media coverage and general discussion of her self-immolation in December focused on if she had done damage. The Atlanta Police Chief said: “We believe this building remains safe, and we do not see any threat here.” The Israeli government released a statement: “It is tragic to see the hate and incitement toward Israel expressed in such a horrific way.”

Police records indicate that they obtained a search warrant and entered an apartment they believed to be associated with “Jane Doe” — initially using a drone:

The drone was able to relay information as to the layout and the belongings inside. After it was deemed "safe" entry was made with bomb technicians. While clearing the apartment no improvised explosive devices were located.

The police report also noted:

During the search a Quran was found in the bedroom along with a [sic] Arabic dictionary and a Hebrew dictionary. The bedroom bookshelf contained books related to fiction and fantasy. A "Drug use for grown ups" book was on the bookshelf as well. Two journals were seized from the bedroom. A thumbdrive was seized from the bedroom as well. A laptop computer was seized from the kitchen counter. A copy of the search warrant was left in the living room of the apartment. The front door [of] the apartment was secured before law enforcement left the premises.

When pressed for more information in compliance with an Open Records Request under Georgia law, Atlanta Fire Rescue Department claimed: “There is an ongoing and active investigation for the incident in question, which is why the only releasable information has been shared via the incident report. Investigative documentation is not available for release until the investigation is closed.”

[suguru-getos]

࿐ husband neuvillette headcanons (f!reader) ࿐

neuvillette, the most respected man in the nation of hydro, more than their archon focalors. he commands respect wherever he goes, his aura still polite, ever so approachable. however, the power of his position cowers people. they are often rendered scared to approach him, some of them literally profusely sweating around his nimble aura.

you, were his wife now, his significant other. someone he cherished more than life itself & someone who made you feel safe, heard, protected. it was said that he was the most sought out bachelor in fontaine before he left his heart for you one day. “break it or keep it. it isn’t mine anymore.” is what he said, when he proposed you. oh the words ring into your ear like the finest melodies till date.

the steambird/ the media was eager to cover everything about the wedding; but to their surprise— neuvillette took you outside fontaine. the city of freedom — monstadt is where you two tied the knot in the presence of a certain, melodious and a high alcohol simp bard.

truth be told, once you were married. there were people who forced false allegations on you. how you manipulated the chief justice into falling in love with you. how you are fake and you act in accordance to his liking to be loved by him. some people even tried to forge false cases against you. all of which— deeply entertained furina. thankfully, neuvillette was never someone to pay attention to any of these things. at one time, he himself fought for you in a false trial. you couldn’t be more thankful.

rains— the legend of hydro dragon weeping causing the rains was famous throughout the country of fontaine. one day, when neuvillette came home a little early, looking distressed, you noticed a harsh, unforgiving thunderstorm drenching the country. you walked towards the terrace, looking up and gently, soothingly whispering. “oh- hydro dragon. please don’t cry.” the rain… lessened. it was as if the intensity had been lessened.

it wasn’t more time until neuvillette confessed to you about him being a hydro dragon. ever since then, whenever there had been rains in fontaine, you make sure to find your beloved husband and hug him tightly, kiss his forehead and tell him everything will be alright. it breaks you apart seeing him like this after all.

sometimes when he comes back home, he always brings your favorite flowers, maybe your favorite desserts, along with a beaming smile only you have seen. people who are aquainted to you often ask if neuvillette being the chief justice and being the most powerful man in fontaine makes your married life difficult. truth is.. it could never. they just haven’t had any access to the good that your beloved dragon holds.

things do get riff-raffy when furina acts a little too childish around him. he pays no attention to her self-centered, self-absorbed behavior but it pinches you how she bothers him for every little thing. once, there was a celebratory banquet held for the same and your displeased face told neuvillette in that very instant — how you’d like the archon to ‘behave’ around your husband. he has been extra careful ever since. <3

your husband might look stern, but he is a soft man. you have witnessed this first hand with how respectfully and tenderly he treats you. on the bad days of your period, the chief justice is nothing but a doting husband for his wifey. you can always be snuggled up to him and cry, or just spend time.

he is a HUGE cuddle bug. would love to destress off work by wrapping his big arms around you and peppering your face with tender kisses. he smells amazing too! always making you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

[nightingale-prompts]

Batboy Meets Batfam

First | Previous | Next

"Relax Batty, it's just one dinner." Dick parked the car inside the Wayne family manor's garage.

"But I hate billionaires. Can't we just go to Batburger and go home." Danny whined slumping in his seat.

"What's so bad about it? He's your grandfather now." Dick asked.

"The last billionaire I met was the only other of my kind. And he was awful. Tried to kill me, clone me, marry my mom, kill my dad, ruined my life. That last one was something he achieved." Danny's wings materilized and wrapped around him as he sulked.

"I know it's hard Danny and I can't promise no one will ever try to hurt you like that again but I can promise I'll stick by you. I can also promise to kick the butt of anyone who tries messing with you." Dick said ruffing Danny's black hair that popped out from under his leathery wings.

"Still don't wanna go." As Danny said this he began to shrink.

Dick sighed, he had learned recently that Danny was a shifter of some kind. It was useful to hide his identity but he would also use it to get out of doing things. When Dick told Danny to clean his room or study Danny would shrink to the size of a toddler and say "Im baby" to get out of it. Dick is ashamed to admit that he's let Danny get away with it because baby bat pictures are precious and worth their weight in gold. He has a wallet full of pictures now.

But Dick has to put his foot down this time.

"Danny being little won't get you out of this. Do you really want to meet your new family like this?" Dick asked.

Danny huffed and turned in his now ill-fitting hoddie the size of a 6 year old.

"Alright come on." Dick gave up scooping the toddler-sized teen under one arm and walking into the manor. "Alfred still has Bruce's old baby clothes somewhere."

"Ahh!"Danny yelped.

"What? Don't want that? If you show up as a baby, they will think you are one. You know Tim Drake is going to be there. He's going to be in the same school as you. Do you want him to think you're a baby?" Dick said holding the kid at eye level.

In surrender, Danny grew back to his normal size.

Dinner was oddly quite as everyone studied Danny closely.

Barbara was the least concerned as he talked about work with Dick and pushed Danny a bowl of strawberry salad. She wanted good aunt points. Danny would love her the most.

Cassie studied Danny's features. It was almost creepy how much he looked like Dick. She'd believe it if Dick was his biological father. Except for the eyes. Danny had a very particular eye color they were blue in the center but kind of had a green ring on the iris. The condition was called central heterochromia and it's rare.

Damian wasn't glaring like he usually would. He looked almost wide-eyed at Danny but remained silent.

Jason was absent as always apparently he was moved by Dick's announcement.

Then again Danny was supposed to be a surprise.

Tim and Danny seem to strike a cord immediately. Danny despite how silly he was the teen was very intelligent. Tim wasn't as subtle as he wish, mostly because Danny cornered him in conversation.

"So you're more used to living in a small town?" Tim smiled politely.

"Hmm? I didn't say that exactly. I said Im just new to the city." Danny responded.

"So you're from a different city? Metro or Star?"

"Neither, It's nowhere you'd know. Not really notable."

"You're going to be family soon, of course i want to know."

They went back and forth for a while. Tim was probably irritated after finding nothing about Danny's identity. And that meant Bruce was probably suspicious as well. Dick had to bet that Bruce's overactive paternal instincts would overwrite his need to investigate.

"So Danny, have you heard of the new vigilante in Bludhaven? The one they call Batboy?"Bruce asked wiping his mouth with a napkin as he ate.

This was the question Danny was waiting for.

"Of course! Have you seen the pictures on social media! Everyone is talking about him. Like, he has wings like a bat. Do you know what I'd do to get that power?! I mean he's not Superman but come on its so cool. We don't have metas-Is that what you call them? Yeah, metas. We don't have them where I'm from so I didn't think I'd ever met one. Dick said he met him the last time he saw Nightwing and promised to get me a picture but he didn't and he said he forgot." Danny put on a pretty convincing fanboy routine.

"I see. So Dick told you he's friends with Nightwing?" Bruce probed.

"He didn't need to tell me. Nightwing found me after I ended up in Bludhaven. I was pretty banged up and he parched me up and took me to the police station. I tried to leave but he told me that Detective Grayson would look out for me." Danny said digging through his salad to pick out the fruit and nuts.

"What about your parents?" Bruce asked softly.

"Bruce," Dick said in warning.

"Its fine...my parents didn't want me anymore. I can't go back. They'd probably kill me. But it doesn't matter anymore, they aren't here." Danny said stiffly feeling uncomfortable for saying a bit of truth.

They say the best way to lie is to have a bit of truth. Danny disagreed. The base way to lie is to have no truth, so they can't tell the difference.

Dick pulled the teen closer as Danny pulled his hands inside this hoodie hiding one of the burn scars on his arm but just enough to show that they were there.

Bruce didn't say another word.

Damian seemed to make his mind up at some point and joined in the conversation.

"Do you eat meat, Nightingale? I've noticed you haven't touched anything with it." Damian sounded oldly cordial.

"Ew, no. I don't eat meat. My friend always said meat was murder and taught me about how evil slaughterhouses were. We once raided a local farm to-oop. I forgot there are detectives at the table. I promise I'm a law-abiding citizen and not an eco-terrorist...anymore." Danny smiled too innocently.

Damian nodded in understanding. They had found common ground. That still doesn't mean he liked Nightingale. But he couldn't fight him since he didn't seem to know anything about their vigilante lifestyle.

Damian had to begrudgingly admit that Danny's presence was welcome. Soothing even.

It didn't matter. He and Drake still had bigger plans. Finding out who this "Batboy" was. They just needed Dick five up some information about the bat metahuman.

Tim had his suspicions that it was Danny but Batboy had stark white hair with black streaks and green eyes. Not to mention wings.

They would have to agree to disagree.

"Danny you have to eat something other than fruit. Eat the rest of the salad." Dick tried to sound stern but caved almost immediately when Danny pretended he didn't hear that.

Bruce internally sighed. Does he step in and help or let Dick figure it out. How does one be a grandpa to a non-vigilante who you can't threaten with no patrols?

*Bonus*

Danny when he see fruit.

[slutofpsh]

f1 racer | psh.

part one

pairings: park sunghoon x reader

synopsis: f1 racer park sunghoon is the ace of their team until he got into a terrible accident causing of his sudden hiatus. the incident injured his shoulder and affected his mental health. you are hired by his mother to help him get through this tough times as you are one of the best psychiatrist in town. he hated the idea of being vulnerable so instinctively, he hates you. he hates how you try to get into his head for him to open up and he hates his parents for meddling with his life like he’s a kid. but he couldn’t deny that you are exceptionally beautiful and he can’t help his cock from twitching just by imagining pushing you down on your office table, fucking you deep and hard until you can’t think straight anymore.

wc: 14k

warnings: mdni. smut with slight plot, lots of dirty talking, degrading, corruption kink, minors dni, p into v raw (please always use protection), dom sunghoon, slight rough sex, reader experiencing sexual harassment. IF YOU DON’T LIKE ANY OF THIS PLEASE FEEL FREE TO SCROLL AWAY.

note: i have no right and enough knowledge with medical terms so disregard my claims as it came from my imagination to fit my plot. i’m new with writing smuts so please don’t give rude comments. i am still learning. also please send me asks and reblog my work. it will help a lot. thank you so much!

slutofpsh 2024 © all right reserved.

“Famous ace racer of the team (f1 team) reportedly caught on an accident last night. Medics who said to arrive at the scene says that he was in a bad condition...” the voice of the news reporter serves as your background music as you’re busy putting coffee on your brewing machine.

It was yet another busy monday for you. One of your colleagues gave you a ring moments ago just to ask you for a favor to fill in for her. You’re suppose to go at the hospital after lunch, but that plan was thrown far out the window.

Being someone who needs to pay expensive rent and lots of bills, you accepted it in exchange of receiving her full payment for these sessions.

People around you always says how workaholic you are and that you should at least learn to loosen up, have fun, date and have sex. You’ll be lying if you say those thoughts didn’t popped inside your mind once in a while, but you knew you have bigger responsibilities at the moment.

Maybe you’ll do all that once you’re a little bit more stable in life. Right now, its not the case so you have to go work.

The drive to the hospital you’re currently working at was short. Multiple vans of tv media reporters blocked the parking lot, putting you off into a slightly foul mood. You groaned and tried your best to find a good spot without scratching any of the vehicles around.

“What in the world is happening...” you softly mumbled, clueless.

After finally making it inside alive, you saw your secretary arriving just on time. She smiles and wave at the sight of you and head towards the elevator together. The sight of the security pushing the reporters out caught your attention before the door of the lift shuts completely.

“Wah, media these days are scary. How can celebrities stand them?” your secretary commented, probably annoyed by all the chaos at the lobby.

“Yeah, they’re basically getting crazy down there.”

She nods, agreeing.

“I can’t blame them. One of the biggest personality in our country got into an accident last night so they’re probably trying to get a scoop of information as much as they can.” she continuously fills you in.

Your head nods slowly, not totally interested about the ‘one of the biggest personality’ being mentioned. This hospital is pretty much located at the center of the big city and famous people often comes here. It isn’t a big deal anymore for you.

Besides, you're more interested on how you will make more money rather than be nosy of who’s confined at your hospital. The last thing you would want is to get involve with a big personality.

The day went on smoothly, met up with the clients scheduled for today. You started packing up after your last session, it was around 4pm. This is why you like to be busy, because its more convenient for you. Days pass by quickly and you’re off to your home even before you know it.

Three knocks from the door to your office is what snapped you back to reality. Your white coat hangs slightly loose over one of your shoulder as you’re about to take it off. The possiblity of that person knocking to be your secretary is low, since she usually alert you through the intercom that she will come in before knocking.

After taking off your coat, your eyes are still darted at the direction of your office door.

“Come in.” you softly stated and you heard the sound of the knob moving.

“I heard from the lobby that you are here so I thought I should make a visit.” his professional tone, yet a little softer rings to your head.

Your eyes grow a little out of surprise then you bowed your head for greeting. His eyes scanned you shortly before it moves around your cozy office. He already made multiple compliments on how your office just feels so warm and comforting.

That’s exactly the vibe you wanted to give off when you personally chose the furnitures and design for this room. Since you’re a psychiatrist who focused on patients who experienced traumatic incidents in their life, you don’t want the location of your sessions to have the impression of a workplace. Patients usually go here to meet you for sessions and their peace of mind and comfort is what you prioritize the most.

“Oh, thank you...” you flash him an awkward smile, hands rests at both of your sides.

It isn’t a surprise that your director paid you a visit for today. He always does that in order to keep on check with his employees. You appreciate it, truly. It's just he’s a little too friendly towards you. Sometimes it makes you uncomfy and afraid that other doctors may misunderstood things.

“Anyway, you must had a long day.” he took steps closer and when you’re reachable, he stretches an arm over you. His hand rests at your shoulder and he clapped on it gently before sliding it down your arm to caress it.

It sent shivers through your spine and you didn’t like it one bit. Unfortunately, you have no choice but to live through it for now. As he’s very powerful and one bad word from him and you can kiss your job goodbye. That’s the last thing you want.

“I should leave you.” he says in a low voice while eyes roams around your face.

You hated every second of it, but you didn’t say anything. He smiles and you flashed him one as well. He raised his hand and lightly pinched your cheeks once before exiting himself from your office.

Finally out of your sight, you manage to sigh heavily. You've been holding your breath ever since he entered your office. It’s slightly making you feel bad, but you feel like he will take advantage of you sooner or later. The feeling of uneasiness are very evident whenever he’s around you.

It’s bad to judge people easily, but that’s mainly it is. You’ve spent years studying and understanding human’s way of thinking. Resulting for your instincts around them to be heavily accurate most of the time.

And your instinct are setting off negatively with your director. The only solution you can think of is to quit this job after you have enough money to build your own small clinic.

In order to have that, you have to work extra hard. For your dream and for your peace of mind.

You finished packing your things and left your floor. While inside the elevator, it stops at a certain floor. You unconsciously moved towards the side giving whoever it is a space for the lift. When the door opened, a beautiful woman wearing black sexy dress steps in.

She seems surprised to see that there’s somebody inside and so her teary eyes grew a bit big. Avoiding to make the atmosphere even more awkward, you bowed and flashed her a warm smile. She nods and glanced away.

Based on how she carry and dress herself, you can tell that her line of work may have something to do with her face. Model? That’s one of your guesses.

By the short eye contact with her teary eyes, you catch a glimpse of guilt and small regret filling them. And also greed that’s trying to push them all at the back of her mind.

You tried to shove these thoughts off of your mind as you’re practically done with work. Even if you cannot help trying to read people’s personality base on first impression, you have strict rules of avoiding it once shift is over.

You’re the first one to leave the lift as you get off at the lobby where you entered this morning. Ignoring her eyes watching you closely as you walk off without sparing her any glance.

It was a long day for you and the last thing you want is to get involve with some drama. Obviously, she’s going through something. But what’s new to that? Everyone in this world is going through things. We just really have to keep it altogether and wait until things gets better for us.

It's been months and you put your focus on making money. Working really hard, filling in for your colleagues and also attending your own session. It was a routine you got used to, world revolving between home and to the hospital.

“There she is,” you bowed politely as you enter the office of your head doctor for the psychiatric ward.

Three heads snapped at your direction as you approach closer and the two of them are completely unfamiliar for you. By the way they dress, you can already tell that they’re important people. The type of people who reeks of money and connections.

“Mr and Mrs. Park, this is Doctor (surname).” your director introduced you to them. Even if you’re a little confused, you gave them a polite bow before sitting down at the chair in front of them.

“She’s the most recommended psychiatrist in our hospital and I really think she’s the one who can help your son.” the director added that made you realized that the two people in front are potention source of income.

With a warm welcoming smile, you pay close attention to the two of them to give good impression. Mr. Park have a serious look on his face, just a small smile from earlier and that’s all. Just by the looks of it, he’s a very reserved man. He seem to know the power he holds and so you guess he isn’t someone very friendly. Doesn’t really try hard to please other people.

Mrs. Park is elegant. The perfect epitome of graceful partner of somebody who holds so much power. She is very pretty as well, her smiles gives you the impression that she’s very family oriented.

“Their son needs assistance as he got involve with an accident months ago.” your head doctor tried to fill you up and instantly, you are on your professional mode.

With a nod, you smoothly fished your pen placed at the small pocket of your white gown then grabbed a paper not far away from you.

“Hmm, may I ask you guys a few questions?”

Mr. and Mrs. Park’s a little caught off-guard at how straightforward you are so they glanced over the head doctor. She quickly flashed them assuring smile.

“Go ahead, I’m sure Doctor (surname) perfectly knows what to do.” she added and with her words, they seem to let their guards down slightly.

“Yes, Doctor.” Mrs. Park says.

You smiled, “Does the patient personally asked to seek for professional help?”

Its a key point to know for you to know what kind of approach you need to utilize for this particular patient.

“No. Actually, he refused to see doctors and deny his need of it, claiming he’s perfectly fine. But me and his Father really wants him to atleast try.” the look on her eyes flashes genuine care and concern for her son.

“That’s totally okay, Mrs. Park. Sometimes, people who underwent accidents tries to deny that something changed within them when in reality there is. May I ask any behavioral changes within the patient, if there any?” and you continued jotting down on your paper.

Mr. Park silently watched how well you’re dealing with them. You looked so young, maybe around the age of their son and yet this is how professionally you handle things. His tensed shoulder relaxed a bit, realizing that they did the right choice of coming here.

“Yes...” Mrs. Park pursed her lips, blinks a couple of times trying not to get emotional just by the thought of her son.

“He shuts people out, doesn’t communicate with anybody and he gets pissed or annoyed so easily.” she sighs, eyes getting teary. “I mean, he doesn’t really have the best patience even prior to the accident but he’s just oddly cranky.”

You nodded your head and just proceeds on writing them down. This isn’t the first time you encountered patients that have the same personality with their son. This is what happens when someone had an accident that affected their life. They can be undergoing through post traumatic depression which is pretty serious as it can be dangerous.

“Can I schedule his sessions?”

They looked relieved at your question, happy that you agreed to take their son. Mrs. Park nodded her head and you continued on discussing them through the process of the sessions, letting them the available slots they can arrange for their son.

Normally, you would take patients to meet patients two times a week but they demand for a three meetings per week. You are a little hesitant about it because that only means you have to put him on Fridays as well. It's your day off.

“Please, Doctor. We will pay extra for the friday sessions.” and there it is. They offered you what you couldn’t decline the most.

Oh how nice could it be to have so much money. After finally settling with the Parks, you managed to agree on the schedules and they thanked you. They told you that they really hope you can help their son. You haven’t met him yet and one rule with doctors is you couldn’t give them false hope, but you shouldn’t give them the impression of failing as well.

“I will do my best.” and you bowed.

You parted ways with them and you went straight to your shared room with your colleague, also a good friend of yours. The moment you stepped in, you can feel her piercing and curious eyes following you.

“So did you accept it?” your head cranes over to the side to glance at Hana. She’s still wearing her white coat while she rest her back at the swivel chair. As far as you remember, her shift is over already. Why she’s still here is a big mystery for you.

“Yes. It’s a good offer.” you gave her a short shoulder shrug.

She sighs and watch how you took off your white coat then hangs it on your chair. Obviously, you are clueless of the situation you just got yourself into. She hates how workaholic you are and how you’re one of the best psychiatrist in the hospital. Mainly why you’re at the top list of the recommended doctors.

Not that she envy you or anything. She genuinely cares for you and she’s worried of how you’re overworking yourself. Not to mention you’ll be having someone very important as your client.

“Do you know who’s going to be your patient?” her tone sounded challenging, arms crossing as she waits for your answer.

You nod your head, eye glancing at the folder laid beside your keyboard. It was handed by your secretary while you discuss something with the head doctor. She reminded you to do a good job as accepting the Park’s can either do good or bad for you.

“Yes. Mr. Park Sunghoon.” you said in a monotonous tone.

She rolls her eyes, “He’s not just Park Sunghoon, y/n.” she sighs and tilts her head. “He’s the ace driver of a famour F1 team. The young bachelor who got into a terrible accident three months ago.”

That clearly rings a bell. You can remember how some of the hospital staffs are going crazy for such individual. F1 racers are truly a big thing for your country, but you’re never interested towards it so don’t have any clue who they are.

You’ve always thought that those type of sport are just out of your league. If he manages to drive for the whole country with extremely expensive cars just indicates how wealthy their family is. Sounds like so much drama for you. Not totally your cup of tea, all you want is the good pay.

“Don’t worry, I can handle.” you assured her.

“I know you’re good with your job, y/n and I have no doubt with your skills.” she starts that slightly moved you. She rarely talks like this and to hear it right now means she’s really serious about it.

“He’s known for being very stubborn. If he’s already like that before the accident, imagine how he can be much worst after it. I heard he’s refusing to do rehab for his shoulder and to drive again for his team.”

You are dumbfounded for the new informations coming from your friend. When his parents seeked for your help, you already knew that it is serious. But not like this. He’s refusing to drive again?

“y/n?” your friend tries to snap you back to reality.

You let out a sigh and flashes another smile for her. “Did you forget? I’m good with stubborn people. I've been dealing with them ever since I graduated from the University.” you tried to joke on it.

She pouts her lips and heaved a sigh, thinking that maybe she really is just overthinking things. She nods.

“Well, you are right. And besides, he’s dead gorgeous.” then she sent you a wink. You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“You’re unbelievable.”

But it seems like she was not kidding when she said that Park Sunghoon is very hard headed. You think little of it not until you came face to face with the handsome racer.

His visuals are ethereal. No words can perfectly describe how breathtaking he is up in person. Of course, after your friend had informed you that he is handsome, you made research. Trying to just familiarize yourself with your newly acquired client.

It wasn’t hard to find something about him through the internet as he’s very famous. Skin so white and flawless, hair pitch black along with his thick brows and long eyelashes that perfectly decorates around his beautiful eyes. His eyes are slightly cold and blank at the pictures of him you found at the intenet. Over all, he has a face that comes around once in a while. God-like visuals, that’s how they describe him.

The pictures didn’t give him justice though, as he’s even more gorgeous in personal. His red lips pretty much stands out due to his pale complexion.

There are varieties of patients you’ve worked with before. The group who's willingly seek for your help in order for them to get better. Then the patients who was forced to do these sessions for the satisfaction of a family member or a loved one. And then the ones who truly hates it and give you hard time, punishing you for merely wanting to help them professionally.

That’s where Park Sunghoon is aligned. He made sure you perfectly know that he’s against with this arrangement.

“Son, meet Doctor (surname). She’s the one we’re talking about with you. From now on, you will meet her at Mondays—”

“Make her leave.” he insolently cuts his own mother’s words while staring blankly straight at you.

He’s sat down at his sofa, one shoulder have a cast over it. He didn’t even budge from his position and just stares at you with his intimidating eyes. The gray sofa looked a little small while he dominates it. You’re pretty sure that it looked normal when it was his Mom whose sitting there moments ago, but when it was him it looked small due to his large frame.

“Sunghoon, don’t be rude. Doctor (surname) is here to help you.” his Mom looks like she feels sorry for how he’s acting, yet her tone remained soft.

“I don’t need any help.” he said sternly. His eyes are piercing right at you. They are indeed intimidating with his eyebrows furrowed hardly, but this isn’t the first time someone wanted you to leave.

“But Son,” Mrs. Park tries to console him but you interrupted her.

“It’s fine, Mrs. Park.” and you flash her with your warm smile.

“Can you give us a minute?” your eyes then roamed around the room. There’s his Mom and another person inside together with you. She’s the househelper who assist Mr. Park from time to time. A little older than his Mother. Base on your observation, he seems to trust her enough to be inside this room.

“Sure, doctor.” she says and gradually asked the other lady to leave with her.

Sunghoon’s eyes burns at you as you stood in front of him. He didn’t say anything else after they left the room, he just stares at you with dark eyes. He’s so upset and angry for how his parents are dealing with this situation right now. They’re being too much for meddling with their son’s life when he’s already 27.

“Hello, Mr. Park.” you greeted him once again. As expected, he showed no reaction at all.

“I’m Doctor (surname) and I am here to help you—”

“I don’t need your help so leave. I am not crazy.” he cuts you off.

You pursed your lips and nods your head before pulling up another smile. His behavior of declining anyone clearly shows how he doesn’t want to show his vulnerability.

“Of course you’re not. Everybody knows you are not crazy, Mr. Park.” his eyes still bores right at you.

“Your parents hired me so I can help to understand your emotions even more.”

The corner of his lips lifts up as he scoffed, “You think I don’t know my own emotions?”

You shook your head right away, “No. Nobody else knows you the best other than yourself. I’m just here to assist and help you go through emotions you cannot control or understand.”

Sunghoon’s tensed shoulder slightly relaxed at what he heard. He doesn’t know if all psychiatrist are like this, but you sure are good with your job. You know your way of words to people. Or was it just because of your pretty face? Was he distracted a bit too much? Did you noticed?

He draws in a strained sigh and glanced away, letting his guard down a bit. It made you feel happy and take it as a sign that he wanted you to help him. For that session, you tried hard not to overwhelm him too much so instead of asking questions, you orient him about the case he’s possibly going through.

But that didn’t really became easy. He made sure you’re struggling on dealing with him. There’s often change of moods as well, sometimes he’s calm to have you around and sometimes he’s not. He rudely interrupts you talking and constantly asking you to just quit your job and leave him alone.

But he cannot do anything about it. He cannot fire you, because he didn’t hire you on the first place.

It was his Mother who asked for your professional help, so if there’s someone who can tell you that you’re not qualified for the job already, it would be only her.

“Hello y/n!” Hana greets you happily as she enter the room. It was obvious that she’s having a great day, unlike you.

“Hi,” you shortly replied and sat down at your chair.

“Looks like you aren’t in a good mood.” she states the obvious. You gave her a short nod and shut your eyes.

“Why? Did something happen?” she sounded so concerned about you and even walked closer to sit at the table near you.

“Nothing. I have an appointment with Park Sunghoon tomorrow. It should’ve been my day off and now I have to meet with him. He’s still being stubborn.”

It’s been a month ever since you started your sessions with him and still, nothing. He’s been giving you cold shoulders everytime, refusing to even open himself over you. Multiple approach already tried for him and yet, nothing. It’s frustrating you already.

“I know exactly what you need to do.” the brightness from Hana’s eyes gave you slight hope, making you sit straight.

She rummage over her stacks of unopenef parcels and cheered lightly after successfully finding something. She smirks and slowly walks towards you.

“What’s that?” you asked curious and confused.

She smirks and grabbed a cutter to open it up. From a distance, you can tell its a piece of clothing. She squealed a little, delighted of satisfaction for the package received.

“You’re going to wear this tomorrow.” she announced and even placed the opened box at your lap.

You tilt your head, confused. “What? Why? Do I not look good with my work clothes?”

That’s not the case. Your typical work clothes looks fine. The type of style that plays safe not to show too much skin and also not too covered for your liking. It was so-so.

“No, honey. But this time, that’s what you’ll wear tomorrow and then we will buy more at Saturday.” she announced with words of finality.

You gave her a weird gaze before checking the box she just handed you. Your heart dropped at the sight of it.

“No way! There’s no way I will wear this, Hana!” you quickly disagree and teared your gaze off the outfit she just handed you.

“Yes way! It’s time to put that sexy body into a good use!” she exclaimed all excited and even giggled hilariously.

“But my butt cheeks will probably show just by leaning down slightly.” the look of horror flashes over your face. Just by the thought of being exposed to Mr. Park makes you blush intensely, your core undeniably getting wet.

You shoved that thought away, somewhat blaming Hana for putting them inside your mind. She’s being a bad influence towards you right now and your face is red as a tomato.

“Then he will enjoy the view!” she winks and left you with no choice but to wear it for tomorrow's session.

Thankfully, the moment you arrived at his place the next day you are wearing a coat on top of your scandalous (not really) outfit. Okay, maybe you are a little exaggerating for thinking it is scandalous. You’ve seen a lot of people wear this kinds of workclothes, its just you’re new to this. This isn’t your usual go to office clothes.

You tried your best to act confidently, trying to ignore the fact that his gaze was practically glued at you the moment you took off your coat once you two are left alone.

You’re nervous already and having him stare at you that way makes it even worst. Regardless, you tried to proceed on your task for today.

Park Sunghoon may act nonchalant about it, but his pants feels so painfully tight ever since you walked inside his home. An hour long duration felt days for him. Those short skirts and body hugging top that perfectly shows your delicious curves is driving him insane.

Despite the fact that he hates your presence and how his parents hired you to help him, he’ll be lying if he will say that he never thought of rutting his cock so deep inside your precious cunt. He bet it will feel so good. Numerous times he imagined pushing you hardly over your office table, taking you from behind while your soft moans make it to his ears. He imagined fucking you so hard and deep until you cannot think straight anymore.

You on the other hand are sweating like crazy while trying to compose yourself, unaware of the sinful thoughts the man in front of you are currently having. You keep on shifting on your seat, uncomfortable with how your skirt is so tight and short. Thighs are basically suowing and by just one wrong move, you’re pretty sure your underwear will be flashed towards him.

“Something wrong, Doc?” you jolted at his sudden question, breaking the defeaning silence. It was his first words for today.

His playful tone and look on his eyes are quite foreign for you, a little delighted by the new side you discovered from him.

“N-Nothing.” your words almost came out as a mumble that made him chuckle dangerously.

To see you with less clothing sure is torture for him, to see you blushing and squirming nonstop while your underwear almost flash him is clouding his mind with so many thoughts. All dark and dirty.

“You dressed differently today.” he said in a low tone, almost like a growl. The statement halts your hand from scribbling down your paper. You glanced at him and quickly looked away as he was already staring darkly.

You gulped in attempt to get rid of the lump between your throat. The corner of his lips lifts while one of his hands plays mindlessly at it.

“Y-Yeah.” it was obvious for you to deny it.

“What are you trying to do, Doc?” he asks like a trap and once again you are caught off guard.

“I d-don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He scoffed sexily and let out a heavy sigh, “Of course you don’t.” then his eyes roams from your feet up to your face and his heated gaze stays at your eyes.

“You fucking don’t know what you are doing.” he said under his breath that you clearly missed. Even before you manage to compose yourself from his stares, he already glanced away then his walls are once again up guarding himself.

The whole session continues with you uncomfortably wet down there and Sunghoon’s dick throbbing inside his pants.

A whole week passes by and all you did was to tempt him. You started wearing tight and short clothes. Whether on purpose or not, it is driving him crazy. The sexual tension between the two of you are so hot. Too hot that whenever you are left alone, it can almost burn you two.

He knew he had to something about it. He can’t get enough of you and his palm cannot satisfy him anymore. He had to get a taste of that pussy or else he will really lose his mind.

It was wednesday and like usual, he’s the one to that have to go to your office. Mondays and friday sessions are held at his place.

He arrived perfectly on time and your assistant guided him inside after your patient before him. It was a guy and the way his face are so red when he walks out is pissing the hell off of Sunghoon. He knew why he’s like that and he confirmed his guess when he saw you with his own eyes.

Wearing a short tight red skirt. You flashed him an angelic smile that seems illegal for how slutty you dress today.

“Mr. Park, you are right on time. Have a sit.” you pointed the sofa where he usually sits and he followed without a single word.

‘I’ll have a sit and you sit on my face right after. How about that?’ he wanted so bad to say that but he refrain himself.

Sunghoon’s eyes dangerously fiest on you while you make yourself comfortable at your chair. The only thing that seperates you between him was the small center table.

“Today, I want to have a conversation with you Mr. Park. Nothing too serious, any topic you like. I just want you to talk.” you stated and smiled at him.

He nods, surprising you a little. He’s never been this cooperative. It’s making you happy and at the same time worried on why he’s suddenly being obedient.

“Any topic, right?” he asks, confirming it from you. A small nod is what you respond to him.

He nods and stayed silent for a while. You thought it was giving him pressure so you assured him that its totally fine and he can take as much time he needs.

While he spaces out, your eyes couldn’t help but to absorb how he looks today.

Park Sunghoon is a walking temptation for you. It was against your rules to be attracted towards your patients, but you just couldn’t help yourself. He’s very handsome despite his rotten attitude. You kept having this sensual thoughts whenever he’s around. It felt so wrong and illegal. How you felt so weak and how you get wet just by looking at his toned arms and veiny hands.

“Do you know who I am? Is that why you accepted to be my psychiatrist?”

You pout your lips and shook your head side to side, cheeks blushing out of embarrasment because you have no idea of who he was until his parents asked you for help.

Instead of looking offended, Sunghoon looked more interested.

“So you don’t have any idea who I was before you accepted this job?” amusment lurks over his tone, finding it somehow amusing.

Not to sound so full of himself, but he’s pretty famous. Not only to his home country, but to the whole world. The bitterness slowly creeps over his chest by the thought of it. He shoves it off his mind because that’s not important as of the moment.

You nod your head sincerely while eyes darted straight at the handsome man sat across of you. His long legs are spread while one of his arm rests at the side of the couch, the other arm on a cast. It was the one that got injured and he needed it to be casted from time to time. He’s once again making the regular size couch look small because of his tall frame.

“You live under a rock or something?” his tone taunting.

You didn’t let it get to you then just flash him a small smile. “I was busy studying.”

He pursed his lips downwards while nodding his head slowly. His brow arches attractively before he smirks again.

“Oh, right. Miss Valedictorian have no time to fool around.” he said it with so much sarcasm and sighs right after. His gaze turned slightly dark while thinking about something. To what it is, you have no idea. He was hard to read after-all.

“Let me just ask you something, Dr.” he starts. Just by the way he’s looking at you, you can already tell he’s up to no good.

You gulped, trying to get a hold of your thoughts and keep a firm look on your face. The last thing you would want is too look weak in front of him. He’ll eat you alive if you let him overpower you.

“Go ahead, Mr. Park.” you tried to sound so casual. A doctor interviewing her patient. Not crossing any line, keeping a safe distant from him.

“Are you still a virgin?” his bold question completely caught you off-guard. Your breath hitches as blood rushes over your face, blushing hard.

“E-Excuse me?” the flustered look on your face made his grin wider.

Just seeing your innocent eyes opens wider after that question was priceless. He couldn’t get enough of you. Dark thoughts occupies his mind, how you will be so perfect for him. How fun would it be corrupting the fuck out of you.

“I forbid you from asking personal questions. This has nothing to do with your sessions.” and you cleared your throat then teared your eyes off of him.

He tilts his head, “Don’t you think you’re being unfair? You ask me personal questions too.”

Your lips hangs open, ready to answer him. Sunghoon’s brows arched as he waits for what you’re about to say.

“T-That’s different. You are my patient and you—”

“How am I suppose to trust you when I know nothing about you?” his words stunned you. Truly he makes a point. In order for your patient to be confident enough to share their thoughts to you, you need to earn their trust.

How are you suppose to gain his trust when he knows nothing about you? But why does it have to be your sex life? You can share anything else, not that one.

“Then ask something else.”

He shook his head with a teasing grin. “That’s what I want to know the most.”

You stared at him straight to his eyes, silently asking him if he’s being serious about it. He didn’t budge and just stared back, piercing through your soul. You let out a strained sigh as an act of surrender before resting your back at your chair.

“Y-Yes.” you gulped, trying to get rid of the lump between your throat. The amount of embarrasment you are having right now is incomparable to anything else. You’ve never been humiliated like this.

A spark lights upon his pretty eyes, his thick pretty brows raising in amusement. He chuckles and you quickly glanced away, couldn’t take it.

“I did expect you to say yes, but to actually know it is still surprising.” he stated.

You nibbled over your lower lip then dropped your eyes at the clipboard you are holding. The paper clipped to it was almost blank, nothing else was written as he’s not cooperating as usual. But in comparison from your previous meetings, he’s more talkative as of the moment.

“So tell me, why?” he asks in full curiosity. You glanced at him with a furrowed brows, confused as to what’s he’s talking about.

“Does no one wants you? Nobody tried to— ah no, that’s impossible right? I bet a lot had tried before but they just miserably failed.” the corner of his mouth lifts as he racked his eyes from your eyes down to your feet, licking and nibbling over his lips through the process. It was almost like he’s undressing you inside his mind.

The sight itself was enough to make you feel horny, the space between your thighs slowly getting wet. It was sinful and becoming unbearable for you. The temperature of the room surprisingly became hotter because of the man in front of you.

If you’re slowly losing your mind, Sunghoon had gone crazy in his own thoughts. After hearing it from you, he lost it. The thought of how pure and innocent you are just makes him dizzy and very horny. He can think of the most awful and darkest thoughts he wants to do to corrupt you. Make you his cum dump and a slave to of his cock. It makes him riled up.

Sunghoon curses inside his mind feeling his cock getting painfully hard.

Your eyes unconsciously darted over the wall clock and a part of you cheers that finally it was times up for his session.

“O-Our session is over, Mr. Park.” you forced yourself up, thighs rubbing each other and the heat coming out from your core makes it so bothering.

You didn’t wait for Sunghoon to speak and just stood up then walk towards your table, starting to rummage over nothing. Continuously touching and arranging things that doesn’t necessarily messy.

The couch made a sound when he stood up and you can feel your heart thumping so hard as you wait for him to talk.

Instead of hearing his voice, you heard him carefully walking near you. It halts your movement and your chest rises up and down. Your breath hitched as you feel his presence looming behind him, his tall figure approaching closer.

He stopped a step behind you. The sexual tension between the two of you is sky rocket, making you feel slightly suffocated. Sunghoon raises his free arm to reach over your waist.

The moment his big hand touched you, it was over for you. The wall you tried to barricade yourself in, crumbling down.

Sunghoon inched closer pressing his hot body at your back. Your scent made its way over his nose and he nibbled his lips at how good you smell.

“We shouldn’t really—” your words hangs as his action caught you off guard.

He dipped his head down, face dangerously burying your neck. His sinful hot lips places feathery kisses over it. Your hand clenched into fists, trying hard not to make any sound or let out a moan that can surely please him.

“Mr. Park,” you tried hard to face him, hand rests over his uninjured shoulder to push him away.

The difference between your physique clearly made it obvious how your strength would not even match his and so to see him not budging from his position isn’t really surprising.

He smirks, finding you adorable while blushing so hard. His effect on you visible and he’s loving it so much. He pressed himself again and this time it’s even more dangerous as you are face to face with each other.

You can now see his ethereal visuals, his thick dark brows, eyes surrounded by thick long lashes, nose pointy with a noticeable beauty mark on it and his pretty lips. He smirks, running his tongue once over them before nibbling over his lower lip showing you his fangs.

“Just like what you always tell me...” he murmured, lips inches away from yours.

Your heart almost burst out from your chest because of the intensity he's making you feel. The urge of giving in and kissing him plays inside your head dangerously clouding your senses.

“Cooperate.” his grip over your waist tightens as he leans even closer.

The last string of resistance prevents you from kissing him on his lips, leaning away when he inched closer. His eyes lifts from your lips, to your eyes. You can see how his eyes are clouded with nothing but lust.

“Think about it, Doctor. If we both cooperate in here, we’ll get what we wants the most. It’s a win win situation.” and he tugs you closer to him making you feel his erection from his pants. So hard and its making you dizzy how he rubs it

His head leans at the side, his lips grazing slightly to bite your earlobe teasingly. It makes you feel ticklish and lightheaded.

“You, getting inside of my mind and me getting inside of you.” he seductively whispered over your ears, hot breath fanning your neck that made the hairs stands up.

Your knees weakened and he hold your waist tighter to prevent you from collapsing down the cold floor.

The intercom to your office rings and it made you jolt. Sunghoon chuckles at how adorable you are for getting surprise by small sounds.

“Doctor, I would like to remind you that your session with Mr. Park is now over. The next client just arrived.” your assistant just announced.

A heavy and disappointed sigh slips off from Sunghoon’s mouth before he moves away from you. His hands ripped away from you and the sudden lose contact made you slightly feel empty, hand gripping the table hardly to keep balance.

He noticed it and he grinned widely. He sighs and felt slightly annoyed that the fun has to be interrupted.

“I should go. You seem to have a busy day.” he turns his heels and started heading towards the door, like as if he didn’t just pulled that stunt.

Just in time, your secretary opened the door and Sunghoon glanced at you for the last time, flashing you a very meaningful smile.

“I really enjoyed this session, Doctor. I’ll see you on friday.” and he sent a wink before finally leaving you a whole mess, the space between your thighs dripping wet wanting nothing but to feel more of him.

After what Park Sunghoon just pulled at your office, you gave it a lot of thought. He was too tempting, but something in you feels warry of the idea. He’s seriously like a wolf hunting on an innocent sheep. It was too much for you so you skipped two of your sessions. Friday and monday, sending Hana instead and making excuses that you’re outside the country for some seminar.

“Finally showing up, huh?” his dangerous tone errupts from the entrance of your office, making you jolt.

Your back was facing the direction of the door and so you have no idea how he looks right now. Gulping, you slowly turns to face him and you saw him shutting the door close. The sound of the lock clicking made your heart thump faster.

“I’m sorry, I was in a seminar. I did sent Dr. Kang in replacement for me.”

The look on his eyes tells you that there’s no slight chance that he’s buying it. And he’s pissed at you for actually thinking you can get away from him.

“P-Please have a sit.” you stutter because you have no idea of how to bring up what he just said the last time you two saw each other.

“Have you decided about what I told you?” a part of you felt relieved that he’s the one who brought it up, the other part is nervous because you have no idea what to tell him.

Your mind kept telling you no, but your core had another idea. Clearly, you want him. You want him so bad.

“A-Are you sure you will cooperate with the sessions if I give you what you want?” your tone sounded anxious and so soft.

Sunghoon’s eyes grew darker while he stares at you, legs spread so wide while he dominates your couch. He heaved a sigh, calming himself not to get so excited and scare you off with his dark plans of corrupting the shit out of you.

“Yes. I am a man of my words after-all.” he states and licked his lips.

You stared right at his eyes with your innocent looking eyes. A big grin spreads across his face the moment you nod your head, falling for his evil trap.

It felt really awkward after that and you’re just standing right there like as if waiting for what he’s going to say next.

“What s-should I do?” you asked timidly, fingers fidgetting carefully and nervously.

Sunghoon took time admiring how beautiful you look in front of him. Standing like a helpless prey, submitting to her predator. Her hungry and very horny predator.

He smiles and bit his lower lip, showing off his fangs like teeth towards you. It sends shivers on your spine, down to your core making it even more wet.

Sunghoon scoots over to the side of the couch, leaving enough space.

“Come sit here.” he ordered with his husky voice.

Your knees felt weak and your feet are stoned at your position, heart thumping so loudly inside your chest that it hurts a little.

“Don’t be scared. I don’t bite,” he scoffs. “at least not yet.” and he grinned at you.

With all your strength, you struts towards him and sat at the space beside him. To be this close to him is dangerous for you. You feel so hot, like going insane hot.

Sunghoon leans in towards your face and you instinctively moves back a little. His dark eyes moved from looking at your lips up to your eyes, silently warning you not to do that again. His hand raised and cupped your face to keep you in place. His hand so big and having it harshly holding you with so much dominance turned you on.

When his lips touches yours, you are lost. It started slow and gentle, then he started to kiss you hungrily like he’s been starved from your kisses. You shut your eyes and hand grip over his polo shirt for support as you can feel yourself losing into his touch.

Your head fuzzy at the taste of Sunghoon. A little bit of mint and sweetness. His kisses hot and messy as his tongue pushes your mouth open so he can taste your insides shamelessly.

He pulled away when you two are already out of breaths, biting your lower lip as he did so. His eyes half-lidded and clouded with nothing but lust. He looked so damn sexy.

“You taste so sweet.” he whispered near your lips, eyes darted straight at yours.

His gaze heated and so is his touch. You can feel his large hands roaming dangerously below you. His eyes serves as a distraction so it was too late before you even realize that he already pushed your skirt up, hands reaching over your clothed core. His hand expertly parting your legs for better access.

“Mr. Park—” your words cut when he placed a wet kiss on your lips.

“Call me Sunghoon.” you gulped and felt so flushed because of his fingers now playing with your core. The only thing that keeping him from touching it bare was your underwear. It was torture for you. A bit embarrased too as this is the first time someone had touched you this much.

“Already so fucking wet for me. That’s all for me, right?” he glanced back at your eyes, waiting for an answer.

Because of the overwhelming pleasure, all you did was nod your head, trapping your lower lip between your teeth.

“Words. I need words, baby.” he whispered, the sudden endearment adding to the sensation he’s making you feel at the moment.

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes what?” he asked, a bit impatient.

You whimpered when you felt him rubbing roughly at your wet core, “Yes I’m so w-wet for you.”

That sends a different kind of satisfaction towards Sunghoon. To hear you say those words just made his cock even harder. He never felt aroused just by hearing them dirty talk. This is the first time. You’re the only one who did it to him.

“I want to taste you. I bet you taste so fucking sweet.” he mumbled and you opened your eyes at what he just said, taken aback at what he’s planning to do.

“But—” he placed a kiss at your lips then kneeled beside the couch, just so he can be face to face to your heated core.

You closed your legs in attempt to hide yourself from him, but he firmly gripped your thighs pushing them back open. He shoot you blank stares.

“Hold your legs for me. Keep them wide open.” he ordered and your eyes unconsciously darted at his broad shoulders, taking notice at the cast over it.

“W-What about your shoulder?” you worriedly ask.

Sunghoon almost lose his mind at how soft and gentle your voice are. More importantly that you still have the time to think of his shoulder when you’re almost half naked in front of him.

“I’m fine.” he quickly dismissed it and placed his big hands at your thighs, supporting it so it won’t close.

Your legs are slowly moving closer, maybe out of embarrasment now that he can see your underwear fully and the wet spot in the middle of it.

One of his hand reaches over your underwear, but you stopped him.

“S-Sunghoon, I’m shy.” you admit, blood rushing towards your cheeks.

The corner of his lips lifts up at the sight of your innocent eyes watching him beneath you. The look of embarrasment and probably being neglected from orgasm painted frustration over your pretty face. He cannot explain it exactly, but it turns him on.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” despite the look of lust over his eyes, his tone is surprisingly gentle.

“Can I take this off now?” he asks and while staring at his eyes, you had no choice but to nod your head.

He didn’t waste any second and removed your underwear, revealing your wet pussy. The sight itself was enough to leave him salivating. Sunghoon gulps and then dips his head giving one long lick to your core, juices wrapping his own tongue.

“God,” you mumble at the feeling of his hot tongue grazing your folds.

“Taste so fucking good.” he grunted and started lapping your pussy like a hungry animal. He kissed, he ate and even fuck your hole using his tongue, hardening it so you can feel him enough.

“Ngh,” you sound so dumb trying to contain your moan, afraid that your secretary from outside can hear you.

Sunghoon smirks and lifts his gaze to look at you enjoying the time of pussy being eaten. He never seen you like this before, he never thought you can even moan this erotic.

“Let me stretch you a bit, baby.” and he pulls away then spit at your hole.

“Open your eyes.” he says that made you slowly oblige. The first thing you saw was his sexy smirk, eyes so dark.

He raised his hand and while staring at your eyes, he slowly slid one of his long fingers inside you.

“Hmm, w-wait.” one of your hand lets go from your thighs so you can cover your mouth.

He chuckled, “Haha! Too much? It’s just one finger. How are you gonna take me if you’re already struggling with this?” he taunts and starts pumping it in and out, stretching you.

“You look so pretty like this, y/n. So damn pretty.” he mumbled and kissed your inner thighs while still fucking his finger knuckle deep in you.

“I think I can already add another one.” he says and you hitched your breath as you watch closely, anticipating the stretch and slight sting from it.

Sunghoon loves how obedient you are and how you just lets him do what he wants towards you. This is the first time you’ll ever experienced fingered other than your own fingers so he knew he needed to make it memorable. He added another finger and started pumping.

“Ugh, oh my gosh.” you moaned, gripping over wherever you can reach.

He kept repeating it until you can feel a knot forming your stomach, a hand clasp over his arm. “S-Sunghoon, I’m going to cum.”

His eyes sparkled, “Oh yeah? Give it to me.” he says like a challenge and continued pumping, dipping his head close to your core. He opens his mouth and placed his tongue near your hole, waiting for your sweet juice. The sight itself made you cum easily, moaning so hard and shaking a little.

“Good girl, cum so sweet.” he praised and suck your clit for any remnants of your orgasm.

You are catching your breath and he’s still pumping his fingers inside you, riding your high.

“How does that feel?”

“G-Good.”

“Then let’s do it again.”

Despite feeling drained out of energy, you looked at him with a bit of hesitation. “W-What?”

“Let me add another finger, pretty. Hold on.” and pushes your body to lay back down your previous position.

You whimpered at the amount of stretch his three fingers are giving you. This is the biggest you ever had.

“Pussy so tight. I bet we will have a hard time making my fat cock fit inside you.” his words’ making your head all fuzzy.

“Say it.” he said while staring at your eyes.

You looked at him confuse, clueless of what he’s talking about.

“W-What?”

“Say your pussy is so tight for me.”

Your cheeks flushed at how dirty those words are. You rarely cursed and never once did mutter this type of words, having him make you say this is making you feel so riled up.

“Say it, y/n. Or I’ll stop,” he shamelessly pulls his fingers out of your hole and instantly you felt empty, the other orgasm disappearing into thin air.

“S-Sunghoon,” you said a little frustrated.

“Say it.” his eyes so dark while it burn towards you.

“M-My pussy is so tight for y-you.”

Sunghoon slid his fingers right back after hearing you dirty talking. It back fired tho, as he can feel his dick throbbing painfuly inside his pants, head leaking with so much precum.

“Ah fuck, this won’t work.”

His eyes turned darker and he pulls his fingers off, making you look at him in confusion. He licked your juices on his digits before he stood back up. Your eyes grew big when you saw him unzipping his pants.

“W-What...” you are lost of words when you saw his erect cock, slapping his stomach after he took off his briefs. It is big and now you can definitely agree when he wonders how you will be able to fit him inside you.

Your face turned pale, a little scared of how painful would it be.

“S-Sunghoon, I don’t think I can—” he leans down and kissed you over your lips.

“Just the tip, baby. I promise.” he stroke his manhood and slowly near it to your entrance.

“Fuck,” he groaned when he managed to put his pulsating tip inside your hole. The stretch from a while ago did help, but only because its just his head. It stings a little, but the pleasure is unmeasurable.

“Oh God,” you mumble when he starts to pull in and out his tip.

“Keep steady for me.” and he started to keep his pace, pleasure overwhelming the two of you.

His eyes are fixed right at your pussy barely taking his tip inside. It was making him crazy.

“I’m close, Sunghoon!”

His brows narrowed and he bit his lower lip, stroking the length that doesn’t go inside you to catch your orgasm.

“Me too, fuck. Cum with me.” and after a few more thrust, you coat his head with your cum and afterwards he pulls out, spilling his outside your pussy.

You’re both a panting mess after and now that the lust is slowly withdrawing, your starting to feel shy again. He noticed it and smirks before leaning in for a kiss on your lips.

“You did so well for me.” he praised that made your cheeks flushed even more.

You pursed your lips into a pout and glanced away, eyes dropping at your exposed core.

“You got it on my skirt.” you rant cutely that made him chuckle.

“I’ll just buy you a new one.”

Friday came faster than you expected, or maybe you’re just really looking forward on seeing Park Sunghoon once again. You parked right at his mansion and knocked on his door.

Surprisingly, Sunghoon opened the door for you. Brows hardly furrowed.

“Hi,” you greeted with a smile and blushing cheeks.

He opens his door even wider for you, “You’re late.” he sounds like he’s sulking so you chuckle a little walking pass by him. Sunghoon managed to inhale your sweet scent and he’s already feeling aroused by it.

“I stopped by at a famous bakery since you mentioned yesterday that you love bread.” and you raised the plastic containing the bread you are talking about.

When you glance at him, he was already sat down at his couch. A ghost of smile spread across his face before he gestures you to come to him. You rest your things at the table and slowly walk near him.

He reached over your hand then guided you carefully to sit over his lap, arms wrapping around your waist.

“You look beautiful today.” he compliments that tugged your heart.

“Is that why you’re hard as rock right now?” you teased and rolled your eyes at him.

He smirks, “I can’t help it.” he mumbles then showers your shoulders and neck with feathery kisses.

You shut your eyes and your hold over his arm tightens. He kissed your neck and sucked at the skin so hard you’re sure it will bruise.

“Ride me.” he commands that made you open your eyes.

The look of lust over his eyes tells you that he isn’t kidding at all. After letting out a nervous sigh, you straddle over him your clothed core perfectly aligned at his erection. The sensation of having it rub as you position yourself on top of him is making you crazy.

Sunghoon’s big hands rests at your hips, eyeing you dangerously. Watching how your face contorts at pleasure as your privates rubs at one another. He can only curse inside his mind how the sight of you humping your wet core to him is so arousing.

“Sunghoon,” you moaned that snap him out of trance.

“Yeah?” and he leaned closer kissing your chin.

“Can I suck you?”

His eyes darken at your question. He was indeed planning to make you suck his cock, but he never thought you would be the one to ask yourself. Now he didn’t regret hearing it, you are turning him on even more.

“Well well, the innocent Doctor (surname) now hungry for my cock?” he teased that made you shy instantly, stopping how you rub yourself towards him.

He chuckles, “Say it first and then I'll let you suck my dick.”

You pursed your lips into a pout then was about to turn away, “Say it, come on.” and then he hold your wrists to keep you from leaving.

You glanced at his eyes and stared hardly. Letting him see how much he affect you. How wet he is making you at the moment.

“Can I suck your cock, please?” you ask so softly that it almost broke Sunghoon.

He smirks and leans to kiss you at your lips once, “Since you ask nicely, down on your knees.” he command and you got so excited after you heard that.

You stood up from sitting on his lap and watch how he remove the knot of his sweatpants. He was left with his boxers and he slides it down as well, revealing his already hard fat cock.

You gulped, astonished at the view in front of you. Eyes fixated at the dessert you’re about to taste. You slowly went down on your knees while still staring at his pulsating cock, the tip of it so red.

“H-How do I do it?” your hand hang awkwardly on the sides and it almost made Sunghoon laugh at how adorable you are.

He grabs your hand and placed it at his knees, making you tear your gaze from his dick and look at his lustful eyes. He smiles, fangs showing.

“Calm down, baby. Don’t get too excited. I feel like you will bite off my dick.” he joked that made you pout. He chuckled and leaned forward for a peck on your lips before resting his back at the couch once again.

“Okay, open your mouth and then rolled your tongue out. Flat them good for me.” he instructs that you quickly followed.

The shyness wearing off as the heat of horniness taking over. You don’t care anymore, all you want is to taste his cock inside your mouth.

“That’s it. Then hold my length, not too tight. It’s your friend, not your enemy.” he chuckles playfully and you just keep follow him.

“Now lick the tip. Lick or suck, just no teeth.” he reminds and you dived in, not wasting any second.

He tasted a bit salty, but good. You cannot explain what exactly it is but the type of taste you will look for from time to time. You hold his dick and looked at its tip, becore sucking it good making Sunghoon groan in pleasure.

“Fuck baby, you’re so thirsty for my cock.” and his hand rests on top of your head when you started bobbing it out of instinct.

“Just like that— damn, it feels so good.” he moaned, groaning while biting his lips deliciously.

“Look at me.” he demands that you oblige, making him go insane.

“Goddamn those eyes. I will cum if you keep looking at me like that.” he said in a husky voice that sent shivers in your spine.

You hummed sending vibrations on his dick that gave him ultimate pleasure.

“Keep going, pretty.” and with his guidance you continued bopping and sucking his delicious cock like a lollipop. It felt so satisfying hearing his moans and having him tightly gripping your hair out of pleasure.

“I’m gonna fucking cum,” he grunts so you kept your pace and he started fucking into your mouth, making you slightly gag on his fat dick.

He didn’t stop until he shoots his hot cum at the depth of your throat, making sure you swallow every drop of it. You did as he told, rolling your eyes as you continue sucking him dry. Sunghoon grunts at the sight of you.

“So good for me.” he mumbles and pulls you up to give you a kiss at your lips.

The day ended with you actually doing your session. This time, you can really tell he’s trying to be more cooperative. Answering questions from you about his childhood and all, trying to familiarize you more about him.

You left that day with a sweet kiss on his lips and small gropping. He’s just really naughty and you cannot get enough of him.

Your routines became making out, foreplays, makeouts then session with Sunghoon. Two weeks passed by so quickly and you two grew closer and intimately. Another weekend came and you spent it with Hana, trying to find good clothes and other girly things.

“How was it with Mr. Park Sunghoon?” she asks raising her brow teasingly.

Your cheeks blushed and eyes dropped at your food instantly. Just by then she realized that something is really happening between you and the f1 racer and so she squealed happily and didn’t stop bugging you to tell her everything.

“I always knew he have the hots for you.” and she winks, delighted that her friend is finally having the sex she deserves.

“What? No. Maybe he’s just bored and—”

“Oh come on! Sunghoon can have any girls he wants and yet he picked you. He isn’t the type to go fuck around girls as well, y/n. He may look like a player, but that dude is loyal.” she even whistles.

“How’d you know?”

She shrugs her shoulder, “He had only one ex-girlfriend and not once did I heard him getting involve with someone else.”

Your heart sank at what you heard. Lately, Sunghoon has been making you feel special. Despite him being mean sometimes, his gestures still tugs your heart. And to think that you learnt about this ex lover of his being the undefeated champion for his heart is hurting your heart.

“Don’t worry! They’re already over.” she assured you after noticing the look of horror on your face.

That didn’t wipe away your worry, since you could tell she has something to do why Sunghoon refuses to talk about his hard refusal of driving for his team again.

“Why did they broke up?” you couldn’t help yourself but to ask.

She pursed her lips trying to recall the article she saw the moment the news broke to the media. It was not that big of a scandal, but still they’re both a famous and public personality. There are a lot of people invested in their love journey.

“I’m not sure, but as far as I remember it was her who calls it off.” she says that made you even more insecure about it.

Hana seems to be ignorant about the fact that you’re starting to overthink things and just diverts the topic into something else. You tried hard to push back whatever that is that’s bothering you, but it was no use. Your heart feels heavy just by thinking of where you stand at Sunghoon’s life.

He didn’t mentioned anything about taking things seriously. You wanted to get into his mind, talk to him and help him get through this phase of his life. On the other hand, he wants to get in your pants and use you for pleasure. That’s it? You should not get worried and shrug it off, but you can’t. Because no matter how much you deny it, you are slowly catching feelings with him.

And to think that the possibility of him still having hang ups with his ex are breaking your heart.

Monday came faster than expected. The weekends spent mostly by you overthinking things. It was slightly exhausting, but again it was overpowered by the thought of seeing Sunghoon once again. Excitement feeling your chest as you parked right at the hospital to meet some of your morning clients.

Time passes by so slow as you keep glancing at your wall clock, begging for it to go faster. After your third client, your intercom rings.

“Doctor, you are asked to go to the conference room to attend a meeting.” your secretary announced.

Your brows furrowed as you glanced at your calendar beside your table, finding it odd that it wasn’t recorded to your schedule. Meaning its either its an unplanned meeting or you forgot to just include it.

You pressed the button to your intercom, “Alright. Thank you.”

The conference room are packed with some doctors and at the center of it was the director. His eyes lights up at the sight of you and you tried to flash a smile for him. He continued talking about some reminders and changes at the hospital protocols.

Your eyes unconsciously darts at the clock and saw that its almost your session with Sunghoon. Remembering that you forgot to inform him, you tried to check your phone from your pockets and realized you don’t have it with you.

You almost cheered silently when the director said his ending remarks for the meeting. Everyone stood up and claps for him. When you’re about to leave the conference room, he calls for you. It made you hesitant, but since you don’t want to make a scene you just walk near him.

“Your ward will be provided with new equipments.” he started and even looked over the folder holding the lists of things your department requested.

Your shoulder relaxed a bit, thinking that he’s not totally up for something weird. Its just that you represented the department as everyone else have something to do. Slowly, the people inside the room left one by one. Even before you realize it, you are alone with the director already.

“Can you check if there’s anything missing?” he asks seriously and even handed you the folder.

You nod and carefully checks the list. While deeply into it, you yelped when you’re suddenly pushed towards the table. His body pressing hardly behind you. Tears quickly pool your eyes in terror, head hurting as it hits the table.

“M-Mr. Cha w-what are you doing?!” you panicked and even try to push yourself back up.

He grunts and pushed you even harder, holding your position. You cried and shut your eyes, wishing that this is just a dream. A very bad dream. You felt his hot breath near the back of your ears and something hard pressed at your but. It felt disgusting, you felt disgusted with yourself.

“Shut the fuck up and just take this bitch.” he mumbles scarily and started grinding himself at you.

“N-No, please stop—” you cried even harder feeling him from outside your clothes and its so horrifying.

“Shh, don’t cry. I won’t put it inside. It’s too early for that...” he said lowly and even caress your face. You moved away from his touch and he just scoffed.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve taught of doing this to you.” he groans and you can feel him going faster, reaching his climax.

It was horrible, but you just stood still as you are helpess. Tears keep streaming down your eyes, unable to even say anything. You bit your lip, shutting your eyes tightly.

When he finished, he leans in and forcedly pressed a kiss at your lips. The moment he lets go of you, you bolted your way out of there. Thankfully, you didn’t stumble with some colleagues or else they would be wondering why you’re crying and dress all crumpled up.

You’re traumatized after what happened. You’ve been inside your vehicle parked underground the hospital. Tears doesn’t even stream from your eyes anymore, you just sat there feeling so numb and disgusted. You feel disgusted about yourself. Just every place he touched you.

Your head slowly cranes to the side when you heard your phone ringing. Sunghoon’s name flashing through it. Right, you’re late to your session with him. After a while, your screen turns black meaning you’ve missed the call already.

It lits up once again because he’s trying to call again. Your heart tugs and slowly reached for your phone.

“H-Hello?” you stuttered.

A big sigh is what’s greet you. “Finally!” he spats. “I’ve been trying to call you for an hour. I thought something bad happened to you.” he sounded a little irritated.

“I’m sorry, I was c-caught in a meeting.” the memory flashes back to your mind.

“It’s fine. I just got worried.” you missed what Sunghoon said as your mind slowly spaced out.

He noticed you being silent from the other line so he sighed, “Hey, I’m not mad. I was just really worried.” he repeated, thinking you thought he’s angry.

When he still didn’t receive any response, his brows furrowed hardly.

“Baby?” he calls softly, snapping you back to your senses.

“S-Sorry, yeah?” you sniffed.

“Are you okay? Did something happen?”

Your heart sank at what you heard. The amount of emotions mountaining inside you are unexplainable. You want to scream, cry and tell him everything but you are scared. Scared as hell on what will happen after.

“Yeah I’m f-fine.” only case is, you’re not.

“Are you coming here?”

“Yes.”

You really want to see him. Something in you tells you that Sunghoon can help. That seeing him can help you.

“Okay. Drive safely.”

You bid goodbye and drove towards his house with one thing inside your mind. What happened to you a while ago and what the director did you to you just means he will not stop just like that. If there’s anyone you want to give yourself in for the first time, it would be Park Sunghoon. You want to give yourself to him.

When you arrived his place, Sunghoon was the one of who opened the door for you. He can’t even say hi because you quickly wrap your arms over his nape, pulling him closer. You crashed your lips on his and start kissing him passionately.

Despite being surprised, Sunghoon caught on and kissed back. He doesn’t understand why you’re suddenly like this, but he cannot reject and stop you. No. Never. Not when you look so beautiful desperate for him. Desperate for his kisses and touch.

He pushed your body to the door and started kissing you hungrily, hands roaming your body like they have a body of their own.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asks, catching his breath.

Your lustful eyes stared right at his swollen lips. “I just missed you.”

Sunghoon’s eyes soften at what you said and leans back in for another heated kiss. Both of his large hands rests at your hips, gripping them tightly.

“H-Hoon,” you moaned when he starts to kiss and suck the skin on your neck.

He hummed on your skin, sending so much pleasure. Your hands plays over his hair, pulling it softly.

“Fuck me.”

Sunghoon was stoned at his position when he heard you mutter those words. He pulled away slightly, enough to look at your eyes.

“What did you say?”

You looked at him straight in the eyes.

“Please fuck me.”

Sunghoon went wild after hearing it. He licked his lips and placed a kiss on top of your hand. “You sure?”

You nod continuously, wanted so bad to forget what happened earlier at the conference room.

“All right, let me prep you—” you hold his arm.

“N-No,” you gulped. “I want to feel it. I want it to hurt.”

He furrowed his brows and looked at you in confusion. He’s not gonna lie, he’s all riled up with you saying these things but he cannot help but to think what happened to you. For the past month that he knew you and been doing stuff with you, he’s never seen you like this. He feels like something’s wrong.

“Is everything okay?” he asked all concerned.

You want to dodge that question as much as possible so you glanced away. His firm hold over you softens as he try to catch your eyes.

“Hey, you good? If you want to do this, I want you to be sure. I need to prep you so it will hurt less—”

“I said I don’t mind!” you burst and shoot him glares. Your emotions are getting the best out of you.

“You know what, nevermind! If you don’t want to do it then I’ll find someone else!” you yelled. Of course that was a lie, but you try to save yourself from too much embarrassment.

You’re about to walk away from him, but he grabbed you by the wrist. When you meet his eyes, shivers run through your spine because Sunghoon’s eyes are so dark.

“Why the fuck would you say that?” he looked so mad and your lips shake unable to even say anything.

“You want it to hurt? I’ll make it hurt.” and he threw you over his shoulders making you slightly yelp.

“H-Hoon,” he walked towards somewhere.

Realizing he entered a room, Sunghoon placed you on the middle of the big bed. You looked at him, nervous. He smoothly took off his shirt and you fold your legs. His toned body made you at awe.

He stretches and grabbed your leg pulling you closer to him. His hand find your skirt and he started taking it off. He dipped his head to smash his lips onto yours. Your eyes shut, getting drown by his sweet, sloppy kisses.

“You don’t say those words at me, y/n. Finding someone else to fuck you?” he said after he pull away and manages to take off your skirt. His eyes turned dark as he let out a scoff with no humor.

“Now, I’m going to fuck you so hard and you’re going to take it all like a good bitch.”

His words are enough to make you wet down there, but you know it wasn’t enough to make it less painful. With the length and thickness of his cock, it will surely hurt like hell.

“W-Wait—” you sound scared.

Sunghoon didn’t mind and just pushed your body down the bed, his big hand wrapping around your neck. His other hand started stripping off your underwear.

“Shut the fuck up.”

He moved away and started removing his sweatpants. His dick was hard already, slapping at his stomach after he took off his boxer shorts. The view itself was salivating for you. It made your fear disappear for a split second. Tho it all went back when he approached you and spread your legs wide for him.

His eyes are darkly focused down at your slightly wet core.

“H-Hoon,” he didn't say anything and spit on his palm before stroking his hard cock.

You’re about to say something but his dark eyes looked at you. The corner of his lips lifts a little as he position his tip at your entrance. Your heart thump in fear and excitement. Multiple times you two did foreplays and you’ve been imagining his cock entering you. Now, it’s really gonna happen.

“Do you trust me?” he asks in a low tone.

You nod your head.

“I will make it hurt so you wouldn’t forget who took you first.” he mumble so ruthless and then pressed his body closer.

Your lips pursed as his cock slowly enters you. It was hard, Sunghoon cannot even push inside as it was so tight for him. He clenched his jaw, couldn’t get enough of the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing his tip.

“Fucking tight,” he growled and thrust harder.

You yelped at the feeling of being painfully stretched by his dick. The pain was unexplainable, something you never felt before. Your hold over his arm tighten, eyes becoming teary. Sunghoon searches for your lips as he continues taking your virginity, cursing inside his mind how good this pussy is. How tight and perfect for him to ruin.

“S-So big,” you cry out.

“Just a little bit more, baby.” he whispered to your ears.

He’s not yet fully in but you already feel so full. It was unbelievable. Your eyes tightly shut, nails digging over his broad back.

“There we go,” he sighs when you finally managed to take all of him.

He pulled away slightly just to get a good look of his cock buried deep inside of you. Your pussy so red and full. It looked so tight with his dick filling you completely. He fits you perfectly that its no doubt that this pussy belongs to me.

“You’re mine now, y/n. Hear me?” he growled and leaned his body down as he start to move his hips, thrusting in and out.

“I’m claiming this pussy mine.” and he bit your shoulder, pistoning his hips harder and faster.

He didn’t even ask if you adjusted already. He was so lost by the pleasure you are giving him. He continued fucking you fast and hard that you’re starting to see stars. It was amazing. Painful, but amazing.

“Ngh,” you moaned when its started to feel a little better. He smirks and tries to catch a glance at your face.

“You’re taking me so well, baby. You’re such a good girl.” he mumbled and looked back at your privates hitting each other continuously.

“So pretty. So perfect for me.” he kept mumbling like a prayer.

You got lost on how long he’s been abusing your hole until he finally cum on your stomach. Sunghoon’s not the type who gets tired right away after a round, but this one’s different. The kind of pleasure and emotions he poured in this one is something he has never done before.

He crashed beside you and gently pulled you towards him, making your head rest over his chest. A peck on your forehead and then he rest his chin on your head.

“Thank you.” you mumbled, after finally gaining back some senses.

He scoffed and wrapped his arm around you. “Thank you for hurting you?”

You chuckled and nuzzled over his chest.

“Well, I did asked for it.”

“You did, baby.”

The two of you fell silent before your eyes caught a glimpse of some of his trophies.

“Did you want to be a racer ever since you were a kid?”

“Oh, my psychiatrist is back? Damn. I’m kind of enjoying my cuddles at the moment.” he said sarcastically.

“I just want to know.” you giggled.

He heaved a sigh, clearly thinking through it.

“I grew up loving cars. My uncle used to take me with him whenever he watch f1 racers. I thought it was cool and wanted to be like them.” he started and you just listened to him.

“And you did.” you uttered so proudly.

“My Mom was against it at first. Saying that its dangerous. But I just couldn’t stop myself from pursuing it. I just feel so alive doing it. The sound of the roaring engines, the thrill of the speed and the smell of the tires scratching over the race track. Its just... different.” he mumbles.

He didn’t say anything, but you felt his tension slightly disappearing. Your hand that was hugging him starts to caress his back, lowkey letting him know that you’re there beside him.

“I used to love racing.”

“You still love it.” you declared like you’re so sure of it.

He didn’t respond right away. Like something’s occupying his mind right now. The thought of his ex girlfriend made it to you and slowly, you pulled away from his hug.

You looked straight to his eyes and gulped.

“Does your ex girlfriend has something to do why you don’t want to race anymore?”

You can clearly saw how his eyes turned cold and the emotions in his face drained. He looked like how he was when you first met him.

Your heart cracks when he pulled away from you and leave the bed before starting to grab his clothes.

“I’ll get you a fresh towel so you can take a bath.” he suggested with cold voice.

“Sunghoon, I’m s—”

“Let’s skip today’s session. You can leave after you take a bath.” and he walked away to get the things you will be needing. Leaving you dumbfounded and heart’s aching.

You have no idea what just happened, but the f1 racer sure does know how to fucking hurt you both physically and emotionally.

tag-list:

@candewlsy @nyfwyeonjun @sunghoonizz @jaehyuniewifeu @imjakes-wifeofc1 @deobitifull @enhypens-hoe @yzzyhee @nyxtwixx @crimnalseung @vixensss @jjklvr9 @gonorrheaisme @lhspeachie @myboyfriendjungkook @capri-cuntz @brooklyninawhitemustang @woniebae @ma-riiii @tinie03 @seokseokjinkim @iheartjayke @hybeboyenthusisast @minniejenseo @shelovsme @sjakewrld @shawnyle (i can’t tag some of you, sorry)

[pucksandpower]

Moments of Glory

Oscar Piastri x Brown!Reader

Summary: notoriously calm and collected Oscar meets his match in the outgoing and extroverted daughter of his boss

Note: this is not the maiden win any of us wanted for Oscar but that doesn’t make it any less deserved — McLaren’s ability to jumble strategy should not take away from his amazing drive

The McLaren Technology Centre hums with energy as Oscar steps through the sliding glass doors, his eyes wide with wonder. It’s his first visit since signing with the team, and the gravity of the moment isn’t lost on him. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

As he walks further into the lobby, a burst of laughter catches his attention. Oscar turns to see a group of people gathered near the reception desk, centered around a vivacious young woman with a contagious smile. Your presence seems to light up the entire room.

“And then I told him, ‘Dad, if you don’t make some cuter merch, I’m going to have to support a different team!’” You exclaim, causing another round of laughter from the group.

Oscar finds himself drawn towards the commotion, his feet moving of their own accord. As he approaches, you notice him and your eyes lock. For a moment, the world seems to stand still.

“Well, hello there, stranger!” You call out, breaking the spell. “You must be our new golden boy. I’m Y/N Brown, resident troublemaker and daughter of the big boss.”

Oscar feels his cheeks flush as he stammers, “H-Hi, I’m Oscar. Oscar Piastri.”

You grin, stepping closer. “I know who you are, silly. I’ve been watching your career for years. Welcome to the family!”

Before Oscar can respond, you’ve wrapped him in a warm hug. He stiffens for a moment, unused to such casual physical contact, but then relaxes into the embrace.

As you pull away, you wink at him. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

Oscar’s eyes widen, and he lets out a nervous laugh. “I, uh ... I don’t ...”

You laugh, patting his shoulder. “Relax, I’m just teasing. Come on, let me show you around. I bet I know this place better than any of the official tour guides.”

As you lead Oscar through the facility, he finds himself captivated by your energy and enthusiasm. You point out various areas of interest, peppering your tour with amusing anecdotes and insider information.

“And this,” you say, gesturing dramatically to a seemingly ordinary hallway, “is where Lando once tried to skateboard down the stairs. Spoiler alert: it didn’t end well.”

Oscar chuckles, finding himself more at ease. “I can’t imagine that went over well with management.”

You lean in conspiratorially. “Oh, Dad was furious. But between you and me, I think he was more upset that Lando didn’t invite him to join in.”

As you continue the tour, Oscar finds himself opening up more. “So, how long have you been involved with McLaren?” He asks.

You grin, twirling around to face him as you walk backward. “Oh, pretty much since Dad got hired to run it back in 2016. But I’ve been working here officially for about two years now, in PR and social media.”

Oscar nods, impressed. “That must be exciting, being so close to the action.”

“It has its moments,” you agree. “But enough about me. Tell me, Oscar Piastri, what makes you tick? What drives you to risk life and limb hurtling around tracks at breakneck speeds?”

Oscar pauses, considering his words carefully. “I guess ... it’s the thrill of pushing myself to the limit. The constant challenge of improving, of finding that extra tenth of a second. And the teamwork aspect, knowing that every person plays a crucial role in our success.”

You smile softly, a hint of admiration in your eyes. “That’s beautiful, Oscar. I can see why Dad was so keen on signing you.”

As you reach the simulator room, Oscar’s eyes light up with excitement. You can’t help but chuckle at his reaction.

“Want to give it a go?” You ask, gesturing towards the state-of-the-art equipment.

Oscar nods eagerly. “Can I? I mean, I don’t want to overstep ...”

You wave off his concerns. “Please, you’re part of the team now. Besides, I want to see what you can do.”

As Oscar settles into the simulator, you lean against the doorframe, watching him with interest. He takes a deep breath, centering himself before starting the virtual lap.

You observe silently, impressed by his focus and skill. As he completes the lap, you let out a low whistle. “Not bad, Piastri. Not bad at all.”

Oscar grins, a hint of pride in his expression. “Thanks. It feels good to get a feel for the car, even if it’s just a simulation.”

You step closer, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “Want to make it interesting? I bet I can beat your time.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, a hint of competitiveness creeping into his voice. “Oh really? You’re on.”

For the next hour, you and Oscar take turns in the simulator, trading friendly jabs and encouragement. To Oscar’s surprise, you prove to be a formidable opponent, matching him lap for lap.

As you finish your final run, you jump up with a whoop of victory. “Ha! Beat you by two-tenths!”

Oscar shakes his head, laughing. “I can’t believe it. Where did you learn to drive like that?”

You shrug, a hint of vulnerability showing through your confident exterior. “Growing up around racing, I guess. But I never had the nerve to pursue it professionally. Too much pressure.”

Oscar nods understandingly. “I can’t blame you. It’s not an easy path.”

A comfortable silence falls between you, broken only by the hum of the equipment. Oscar finds himself studying your face, noticing the way your eyes crinkle when you smile and how animated you become when talking about something you love.

You catch him staring and smirk. “See something you like, Piastri?”

Oscar blushes furiously, stammering, “I, uh ... I was just ... you’re really ...”

You laugh, but there’s a softness to it. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

Oscar takes a deep breath, gathering his courage. “Listen, Y/N ... I know we just met, but I was wondering if maybe ... I mean, if you’re not busy ... would you like to ...”

Before he can finish, an alarm on your phone goes off. You check it and grimace. “Shoot, I’ve got a meeting in five minutes. Rain check on whatever you were about to say?”

Oscar nods, trying to hide his disappointment. “Yeah, of course. No problem.”

You start to leave but pause at the doorway. Turning back, you say, “Hey, Oscar? For what it’s worth, I hope you were about to ask me out. Because I’d say yes.”

With a wink and a wave, you’re gone, leaving Oscar standing in the simulator room, a mix of excitement and nerves swirling in his stomach. He takes a deep breath, a smile spreading across his face as he realizes that his journey with McLaren might be even more exciting than he initially thought.

***

The hot Qatar air shimmers around Oscar as he stands before the camera, sweat glistening on his brow. His race suit clings to his body, still damp from the grueling sprint race he’s just won. The interviewer leans in with her microphone.

“Oscar, what an incredible performance today! How does it feel to secure your first sprint victory in Formula 1?”

Oscar’s eyes shine with a mix of exhaustion and elation. “It’s ... it’s honestly surreal,” he says, his voice slightly breathless. “The team did an amazing job with the car, and everything just clicked out there. I can’t quite believe it yet.”

The interviewer nods encouragingly. “You showed remarkable pace throughout the race. Was there any point where you felt particularly challenged?”

Oscar opens his mouth to respond, but before he can say a word, a blur of motion catches his peripheral vision. Suddenly, you crash into him at full speed, nearly knocking both of you off balance.

“You did it! You actually did it!” You squeal, throwing your arms around Oscar’s neck and peppering his sweaty face with kisses.

Oscar’s eyes widen in shock, his cheeks flushing a deep red that has nothing to do with the desert heat. “Y/N! What are you-”

But you’re not listening. You’re too busy showering him with affection, right there in front of the rolling cameras and the stunned interviewer. “I’m so proud of you, you beautiful, talented man!” You exclaim between kisses.

The interviewer clears her throat, trying to regain control of the situation. “I ... um, it seems we have an unexpected guest. Miss, could you perhaps-”

You turn to face the camera, your arm still draped around Oscar’s shoulders. “Oh, don’t mind me! I’m just here to celebrate with the star of the show.” You plant another kiss on Oscar’s cheek for emphasis.

Oscar, for his part, looks like he’s torn between embarrassment and delight. He awkwardly pats your back, trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism. “I’m sorry about this,” he says to the interviewer. “This is Y/N, she’s ... well, she’s ...”

“I’m his girlfriend,” you announce proudly, beaming at the camera. “And the daughter of the CEO, but that’s not important right now. What’s important is that this guy” — you ruffle Oscar’s hair — “just drove the race of his life!”

The interviewer, recovering from her initial shock, decides to roll with the unexpected turn of events. “Well, Y/N, since you’re here, what did you think of Oscar’s performance today?”

You launch into an enthusiastic analysis, gesticulating wildly. “It was absolutely brilliant! The way he managed those tires in the closing laps, fending off Verstappen ... I was on the edge of my seat the whole time!”

Oscar watches you with a mixture of amusement and affection. When you pause for breath, he gently interjects, “I think you might be a bit biased, love.”

You turn to him, eyes sparkling. “Biased? Me? Never! I’ll have you know I’m a highly objective observer of the sport.”

The interviewer, sensing an opportunity for a more personal angle, asks, “Oscar, how does it feel to have such passionate support from your girlfriend?”

Oscar’s expression softens as he looks at you. “It’s ... it’s incredible, honestly. Y/N’s been my biggest cheerleader since day one. Even on the tough days, she always believes in me.”

You lean your head on his shoulder, momentarily subdued by the sincerity in his voice. “That’s because I know how amazing you are, even when you don’t see it yourself.”

The interviewer smiles, clearly charmed by the display. “It’s wonderful to see such support. Y/N, did you have any doubts during the race?”

You straighten up, your energy returning full force. “Doubts? About Oscar? Never! Although,” you add with a mischievous grin, “I did consider commandeering a golf cart and driving onto the track myself when Verstappen started closing that gap in the final laps.”

Oscar chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m glad you restrained yourself. I don’t think that would’ve gone over well with the stewards.”

“Oh please,” you scoff playfully. “I would’ve told them I was delivering a vital message about tire strategy. They would’ve believed me.”

The interviewer laughs along with you. “I have to say, this is one of the most entertaining post-race interviews I’ve ever conducted. Oscar, how do you keep up with such a vibrant personality?”

Oscar grins, his earlier embarrassment fading. “Honestly, I’m still trying to figure that out. Y/N keeps me on my toes, that’s for sure. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You beam at him, then stage-whisper to the interviewer, “He loves it, really. I add much-needed excitement to his life.”

“As if driving a Formula 1 car at over 300 kilometers per hour isn’t exciting enough,” Oscar retorts good-naturedly.

You wave a dismissive hand. “Details, details. Now, are we done here? Because I have plans for celebrating this victory, and they involve a lot less talking and a lot more-”

Oscar quickly cuts you off, his cheeks reddening again. “And on that note, I think we should wrap this up. Thank you for the interview,” he says to the journalist, who’s trying hard to stifle her laughter.

As Oscar begins to lead you away, the interviewer calls out one last question. “Oscar, any final words for your fans watching at home?”

Oscar pauses, considering for a moment. “Just ... thank you for all the support. It means the world to me. And to the team, of course. We couldn’t do this without you all.”

You can’t resist adding your own message. “And remember, kids: if you work hard and believe in yourself, one day you too could have an incredibly attractive partner tackling you with kisses on live television!”

With that, you pull Oscar away from the cameras, both of you laughing as you disappear into the paddock.

Once you’re out of sight of the media, Oscar turns to you, his expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. “I can’t believe you did that,” he says, shaking his head.

You grin unrepentantly. “Oh come on, it was fun! And admit it, you loved it.”

Oscar tries to maintain a stern face, but his lips twitch upwards. “It was certainly ... unexpected.”

“Unexpected is my middle name,” you declare proudly.

“I thought your middle name was Trouble,” Oscar quips.

You gasp in mock offense. “Oscar Piastri, are you sassing me? I’ll have you know that Trouble is my first name. Y/N is just a cover.”

Oscar laughs, pulling you close despite the sweat still clinging to his race suit. “Well, Trouble, what do you say we get out of here and start that celebration you were talking about?”

Your eyes light up. “Now you’re talking! But first ...” You lean in, your voice dropping to a whisper. “I believe I was interrupted earlier when I was showering the race winner with well-deserved affection.”

Oscar’s breath catches as you close the distance between you, your lips meeting in a kiss that’s far more heated than the ones shared on camera. When you finally pull apart, you’re both a little breathless.

“Wow,” Oscar murmurs. “If that’s how you react to a sprint win, I can’t wait to see what happens when I win a Grand Prix.”

You wink at him. “Keep driving like that, and you’ll find out soon enough. Now come on, hero. Let’s go find somewhere more private before my dad shows up and ruins all our fun.”

As if on cue, Zak’s voice echoes down the paddock. “Oscar! There you are! Hell of a drive out there, kid!”

You groan dramatically. “Speak of the devil. Quick, hide me in your helmet!”

Oscar chuckles, keeping an arm around your waist as Zak approaches. “I don’t think you’d fit, babe. Besides, I’m pretty sure he already knows you’re here. The whole world probably knows after that interview.”

You shrug, unabashed. “What can I say? When I’m proud of my man, I want everyone to know it.”

Zak reaches you, clapping Oscar on the shoulder. “That was some fantastic racing out there, Oscar. You should be proud.”

Oscar nods, a shy smile on his face. “Thank you. The car felt great, and the team’s strategy was spot on.”

You roll your eyes affectionately. “Always so modest. Dad, tell him how amazing he was!”

Zak laughs. “I think you’ve done enough of that for all of us, sweetheart. I saw that interview, by the way. Quite a show you two put on.”

You bat your eyelashes innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was merely congratulating our star driver on his well-deserved victory.”

“Uh-huh,” Zak says, clearly not buying it. “Well, try to keep the congratulations a bit more PG in the future, alright? We do have sponsors to think about.”

Oscar looks mortified, but you just grin. “No promises. But I’ll try to restrain myself to just one tackle per race weekend.”

Zak shakes his head, a mixture of exasperation and fondness on his face. “What am I going to do with you two? Oscar, I hope you know what you’ve signed up for with this one.”

Oscar glances at you, his expression softening. “I think I have a pretty good idea. And I wouldn’t change a thing.”

You feel your heart swell at his words. “Aww, babe. That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said. Well, second sweetest. The sweetest was when you told me my driving in the simulator was ‘not bad.’”

Oscar groans. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Nope!” you say cheerfully. “I plan to remind you of it at least once a week for the rest of our lives.”

Zak watches your banter with amusement. “Alright, you two. Oscar, the team wants to debrief before you head out. Y/N, try not to cause any international incidents while I’m gone, okay?”

You salute dramatically. “Yes, sir, Team Principal, sir! I shall endeavor to be on my very best behavior.”

As Zak walks away, shaking his head and muttering something that sounds suspiciously like “God help us all,” you turn back to Oscar.

“So, hotshot,” you say, running a finger down his chest. “How long do you think this debrief will take? Because I have some very important plans that involve you, me, and a bottle of champagne I may or may not have ‘borrowed’ from the hospitality area.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow. “Borrowed, huh? You know, as a representative of the team, I should probably discourage such behavior.”

You lean in close, your lips barely brushing his ear. “And as my boyfriend, what do you think?”

Oscar’s arms tighten around you. “I think,” he murmurs, “that I’m the luckiest guy in the world. And that I’ll try to make this the quickest debrief in F1 history.”

You pull back with a triumphant grin. “That’s what I like to hear. Now go, be brilliant, and hurry back to me. I’ll be waiting.”

As Oscar jogs off towards the team garage, you watch him go with a soft smile. Your eyes linger on the PIASTRI emblazoned across his back, and you feel a surge of pride and affection.

“That’s my guy,” you murmur to yourself. “My brilliant, amazing, race-winning guy.”

And as you head off to prepare for your celebration, you can’t help but think that while Oscar might have won the sprint race today, you’re the one who truly hit the jackpot.

***

The Hungaroring erupts in cheers as Oscar crosses the finish line, securing his maiden Grand Prix victory. The McLaren garage explodes with jubilation, team members hugging each other and pumping their fists in the air.

As Oscar completes his cool-down lap, his voice crackles over the team radio, breathless with excitement. “We did it! We actually did it! Thank you, thank you to everyone. I can’t believe it!”

His race engineer responds, emotion evident in his voice. “Fantastic job, Oscar. You drove brilliantly. Enjoy this moment, mate. You’ve earned it.”

Meanwhile, in the paddock, you’re practically vibrating with excitement. You’ve been pacing back and forth, unable to contain your energy as you watched the final laps unfold on the screens. As soon as Oscar crosses the line, you sprint towards parc fermé, determined to be there when he gets out of the car.

You weave through the crowd, your McLaren bomber jacket with Oscar’s number emblazoned across the back drawing curious glances. As you reach the barriers, you see Oscar’s car pull up, the Australian already unclipping his helmet.

“Oscar!” You shout, waving frantically. “Over here!”

Oscar’s eyes scan the crowd, lighting up when he spots you. He clambers out of the car, his legs a bit shaky from the adrenaline and physical exertion. As he makes his way towards you, his gaze locks onto the jacket you’re wearing, and his steps falter.

You notice his reaction and grin mischievously, doing a little twirl to show off the jacket. “Like what you see, champ?”

Oscar’s eyes are wide, his mouth slightly agape. “That’s ... wow. Is that my number?”

You nod, beaming. “Sure is. Thought I’d support my favorite driver in style. Although,” you add with a wink, “I have to say, it will look much better on the ground next to your bed.”

Oscar’s face flushes red, and he glances around nervously. “Y/N! We’re in public!”

You laugh, reaching out to ruffle his sweat-damp hair. “Oh, relax. Everyone’s too busy celebrating your win to pay attention to us. Speaking of which ...” You grab the front of his race suit and pull him close, planting a passionate kiss on his lips.

When you finally break apart, Oscar looks dazed but happy. “I could get used to that kind of celebration,” he murmurs.

“Well, keep winning races like that, and you’ll have plenty more where that came from,” you tease. “Now go, do your podium thing. I’ll be waiting to continue this ... discussion ... later.”

As Oscar heads off for the podium ceremony, you turn to make your way back to the paddock. That’s when you spot Lando chatting with some engineers. Your eyes narrow as you remember how a McLaren strategy mistake had allowed Lando to undercut Oscar, nearly costing him the win. Even though it wasn’t really Lando’s fault, you can’t help feeling annoyed at him.

You’re about to march over and give Lando a piece of your mind when you spot something that makes you pause — Fernando Alonso’s unattended scooter, parked just a few feet away. A mischievous grin spreads across your face as an idea forms.

Glancing around to make sure no one’s watching, you casually stroll over to the scooter and hop on. You rev the engine, drawing Lando’s attention.

“Hey, Y/N!” Lando calls out, waving. “Congrats on Oscar’s win! Some race, huh?”

You smile sweetly, maneuvering the scooter towards him. “Oh, it sure was, Lando. Especially that bit where you refused to give the lead back to Oscar until the last minute. That was ... interesting.”

Lando’s smile falters slightly. “Come on. You know it wasn’t my fault. The team made the strategy call.”

“Oh, I know,” you say, inching the scooter closer. “I just thought I’d give you a little reminder about team spirit and timeliness.”

Before Lando can react, you accelerate the scooter, aiming straight for his foot. There’s a yelp of pain as the wheel rolls over Lando’s toes, followed by a string of colorful expletives.

“Oops!” You exclaim with faux innocence. “So sorry, Lando. These things are just so hard to control, you know?”

Lando hops on one foot, glaring at you. “What the hell? That bloody hurt!”

You shrug, still perched on the scooter. “Funny, that’s probably how Oscar felt when you wouldn’t let him by. Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

As Lando opens his mouth to retort, a stern voice cuts through the air. “Y/N Brown! What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

You wince, recognizing your father’s voice. Zak strides towards you, his expression a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

“Hi, Dad,” you say sheepishly. “I was just ... congratulating Lando on his race?”

Zak pinches the bridge of his nose. “By running over his foot with Alonso’s scooter? Jesus, Y/N. I can’t take you anywhere, can I?”

You hop off the scooter, trying your best to look contrite. “In my defense, it was a very gentle running over. Barely a love tap, really.”

Lando snorts, still rubbing his foot. “Love tap my arse. I think you broke my toe!”

Zak sighs heavily. “Lando, go get that checked out by the medics. Y/N, you’re coming with me. We need to have a serious talk about appropriate behavior in the paddock.”

As your father leads you away, you can’t help but call back over your shoulder, “Hey Lando! Next time, maybe think about giving the position back sooner, yeah?”

Zak groans. “Y/N, please. You know Lando was put in a tough spot. You’re not helping your case here.”

You follow your father to a quiet corner of the McLaren garage, trying to suppress your grin. Despite the impending lecture, you can’t bring yourself to regret your actions. Nobody messes with your Oscar and gets away with it.

Zak turns to face you, his expression serious. “Y/N, I know you’re excited about Oscar’s win, and believe me, I am too. But you can’t go around assaulting our drivers, even if it’s just with a scooter.”

You nod, attempting to look suitably chastised. “I know. I got carried away. It won’t happen again.”

Zak raises an eyebrow. “Why do I have a hard time believing that?”

Before you can respond, there’s a commotion at the garage entrance. Oscar bursts in, his face flushed with excitement.

“Y/N!” He calls out, spotting you. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

You turn to him, your face lighting up. “Oscar! Congrats, babe! I know I already said it, but you were amazing out there!”

Oscar sweeps you up in a hug, spinning you around. As he sets you down, his eyes once again lock onto your jacket. “God, you look incredible in that,” he murmurs, his voice low.

You smirk, running a hand down his chest. “Oh yeah? Maybe I should wear it more often then.”

Zak clears his throat loudly, reminding you both of his presence. “While I’m thrilled about the win, could you two maybe tone down the PDA a notch? We are still in a professional environment.”

Oscar steps back, looking sheepish. “Sorry. I got a bit carried away.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Oh, come on, Dad. Let the man celebrate! It’s his first win, after all.”

Zak sighs, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “Fine, fine. But try to keep it family-friendly, alright? And Y/N, we’re not done talking about the scooter incident.”

Oscar looks between you and your father, confusion evident on his face. “Scooter incident?”

You wave a dismissive hand. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little misunderstanding with Lando. Nothing to worry about.”

Oscar’s brow furrows. “What kind of misunderstanding involves a scooter?”

Before you can answer, Lando limps into the garage, his foot wrapped in a bandage. “The kind where your girlfriend tries to maim me, apparently,” he grumbles.

Oscar’s eyes widen. “Y/N, you didn’t ...”

You shrug, trying to look innocent. “It was an accident! Besides, he had it coming after that stunt he pulled during the race.”

Oscar runs a hand through his hair, looking exasperated but also slightly amused. “Y/N, you can’t just go around running people over because you’re unhappy with their racing.”

“Watch me,” you mutter under your breath.

Zak throws his hands up in defeat. “I give up. Oscar, congratulations again on the win. Y/N, try not to cause any more chaos for at least the next hour, okay? I need to go do damage control with the press.”

As your father walks away, Oscar turns to you, his expression a mix of fondness and exasperation. “What am I going to do with you?”

You grin, stepping closer to him. “I have a few ideas. Most of them involve you, me, and licking champagne off each other’s skin.”

Oscar’s breath hitches, his eyes darkening. “Y/N,” he warns, but there’s no real heat in his voice.

You lean in, your lips brushing his ear. “What do you say we get out of here, champ? I think it’s time for your real celebration.”

Oscar doesn’t need to be told twice. He grabs your hand, leading you towards the exit. As you pass Lando, you call out, “No hard feelings, right, Lando? Maybe next time you’ll think twice before playing dirty on track.”

Lando rolls his eyes but can’t help cracking a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Just keep her on a leash, will you, Oscar?”

Oscar chuckles. “I don’t think anyone could keep Y/N on a leash if they tried.”

As you leave the garage, the sounds of celebration still echoing through the paddock, you can’t help but feel on top of the world. Oscar’s first win, your successful (if slightly unorthodox) defense of his honor, and the promise of a private celebration to come — it’s been a perfect day.

You squeeze Oscar’s hand, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “So, hero, ready to show me just how much you like this jacket?”

Oscar grins, pulling you closer. “More than ready. But maybe we should wait until we’re somewhere more private. I don’t fancy giving the entire paddock a show.”

You laugh, the sound bright and carefree. “Spoilsport. But fine, I suppose I can be patient. For now.”

As you walk hand in hand towards the team motorhome, you can’t help but think that while Oscar may have won the race today, you’re both winners in the game of love. And that’s the best victory of all.

[bi-writes]

whats wrong with ai?? genuinely curious <3

okay let's break it down. i'm an engineer, so i'm going to come at you from a perspective that may be different than someone else's.

i don't hate ai in every aspect. in theory, there are a lot of instances where, in fact, ai can help us do things a lot better without. here's a few examples:

ai detecting cancer

ai sorting recycling

some practical housekeeping that gemini (google ai) can do

all of the above examples are ways in which ai works with humans to do things in parallel with us. it's not overstepping--it's sorting, using pixels at a micro-level to detect abnormalities that we as humans can not, fixing a list. these are all really small, helpful ways that ai can work with us.

everything else about ai works against us. in general, ai is a huge consumer of natural resources. every prompt that you put into character.ai, chatgpt? this wastes water + energy. it's not free. a machine somewhere in the world has to swallow your prompt, call on a model to feed data into it and process more data, and then has to generate an answer for you all in a relatively short amount of time.

that is crazy expensive. someone is paying for that, and if it isn't you with your own money, it's the strain on the power grid, the water that cools the computers, the A/C that cools the data centers. and you aren't the only person using ai. chatgpt alone gets millions of users every single day, with probably thousands of prompts per second, so multiply your personal consumption by millions, and you can start to see how the picture is becoming overwhelming.

that is energy consumption alone. we haven't even talked about how problematic ai is ethically. there is currently no regulation in the united states about how ai should be developed, deployed, or used.

what does this mean for you?

it means that anything you post online is subject to data mining by an ai model (because why would they need to ask if there's no laws to stop them? wtf does it matter what it means to you to some idiot software engineer in the back room of an office making 3x your salary?). oh, that little fic you posted to wattpad that got a lot of attention? well now it's being used to teach ai how to write. oh, that sketch you made using adobe that you want to sell? adobe didn't tell you that anything you save to the cloud is now subject to being used for their ai models, so now your art is being replicated to generate ai images in photoshop, without crediting you (they have since said they don't do this...but privacy policies were never made to be human-readable, and i can't imagine they are the only company to sneakily try this). oh, your apartment just installed a new system that will use facial recognition to let their residents inside? oh, they didn't train their model with anyone but white people, so now all the black people living in that apartment building can't get into their homes. oh, you want to apply for a new job? the ai model that scans resumes learned from historical data that more men work that role than women (so the model basically thinks men are better than women), so now your resume is getting thrown out because you're a woman.

ai learns from data. and data is flawed. data is human. and as humans, we are racist, homophobic, misogynistic, transphobic, divided. so the ai models we train will learn from this. ai learns from people's creative works--their personal and artistic property. and now it's scrambling them all up to spit out generated images and written works that no one would ever want to read (because it's no longer a labor of love), and they're using that to make money. they're profiting off of people, and there's no one to stop them. they're also using generated images as marketing tools, to trick idiots on facebook, to make it so hard to be media literate that we have to question every single thing we see because now we don't know what's real and what's not.

the problem with ai is that it's doing more harm than good. and we as a society aren't doing our due diligence to understand the unintended consequences of it all. we aren't angry enough. we're too scared of stifling innovation that we're letting it regulate itself (aka letting companies decide), which has never been a good idea. we see it do one cool thing, and somehow that makes up for all the rest of the bullshit?

[halfvalid]

through the night

ABOUT

| 18+ | smut | explicit |

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.2k

description: zoro comes to the reader's room during the night. sex ensues.

tags: smut, female reader, oral (receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, kissing (a lot of it), soft zoro, first time together, confessions (kinda), fluff, no use of "y/n", banter, pwp (lowkey).

author's note: consent is sexy and so is zoro

i have up to now only watched 2 episodes of OPLA and have never consumed any other type of one piece media. expect him to be ooc. also it's my first smut fic help

It was nighttime on the Going Merry, and the dull kiss of the setting horizon drifted lazily through the single window in your room. You were lying on your bed, leaning against the headboard as you flipped through a book you’d picked up the last time the ship had been docked. It wasn’t too interesting, but it was something to pass the time with, so you stifled a yawn and flipped to the next page.

There was a knock at your door, and you glanced up, watching as the shoddy metal hinges slowly creaked open. Zoro was standing in the doorway, his broad frame blocking out nearly all the light coming in from the hall. He was still dressed in his daywear, which reminded you that you needed to change—the loose shirt and trousers you wore were, although clean, nothing near sleepwear.

“Zoro?” you asked, watching as he started into the room. You clicked your tongue before he could step another foot inside, though— “If you’re going to come in, take your shoes off.”

Zoro scoffed but obeyed, pausing by the mouth of the room to slide his heavy boots off. He tread lightly to where you lay, climbing up to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. “What’s up?”

“Can’t sleep,” Zoro answered. You moved aside to allow him some more room, centering yourself on the bed. Zoro didn’t move, though.

You raised your eyebrows. “That’s possible?”

He looked unimpressed, propping his arms under his head and leaning back so his head was splayed against your thighs. His three matching earrings glinted in the light. “Luffy and Nami are being loud. Your room’s the farthest away.”

“Your elbow is digging into my gut,” you said, turning back towards your book. Zoro rolled his eyes, but readjusted his position, pulling his arms down to instead lay folded atop his stomach. “Are you just going to nap there?”

Zoro shrugged, and you had to stifle a giggle, the sensation vaguely ticklish. He’d never been a man of many words, so you lowered your book again and went back to reading. The light in the room was dim, though; after a few minutes, the glow from the light at your bedside no longer sufficed, and you were too tired to strain your eyes to squint at the page. You could, of course, just turn on the cabin lights—but Zoro was asleep by now, and you hadn’t even liked the book that much anyway.

You set it on your nightstand, gazing down at the slumbering man in your lap. Despite the glare he so often sported, Zoro looked near-angelic in his sleep, his face all smooth planes and straight lines. Those dark eyes of his were hidden like this, black lashes splayed across his cheeks as shadows emphasized the hollows of his bone structure.

He really was beautiful, an ever-comforting presence within the Straw Hats that your eyes had always strayed to. There was a certain kind of fondness you held for him that none of the other crew members could quite compare to, although if you voiced those thoughts Luffy would probably end up giving you a lighthearted scolding. You could already imagine the teasing from the other members of the crew—Usopp and Sanji particularly—making fun of your little crush, which is why you kept your lips firmly sealed. A secret was a secret, and this was yours to keep.

You finally tore your eyes away, focusing instead on getting out of the position you’d gotten stuck in. Somewhere in the back of your mind you liked the idea of Zoro sleeping in your lap, but the clothes you wore were getting increasingly uncomfortable. You carefully slipped out from under him, cradling his head so as to support him as you gently lowered him to the mattress. Thankfully, he didn’t rouse, and you slipped to the other side of the room to open up your wardrobe, satisfied knowing you weren’t disturbing him.

You made deft work, first brushing through your hair and rinsing your face with some clean water before focusing your attention on changing your clothes. You removed your trousers, instead donning a pair of shorts. You were halfway through peeling off your blouse to replace it with a softer, silk one, when Zoro coughed from behind you.

You froze, daring to glance behind you whilst still topless. Zoro had awoken, eyes having lost all trace of sleep as he slowly sat up, staring at your figure across the room. He coughed again as soon as your eyes met, dropping his gaze. “Sorry,” he said very carefully, voice hoarse and grating.

“No, it’s okay,” you managed out, but you were still frozen. Your thoughts were on the dark look that’d been in his eyes the split-second before he’d looked away—surprised but sharp, cutting like just his gaze could pierce through your soul. Gooseflesh had prickled up along your arms.

“I’ll just… go,” Zoro muttered, already having gotten up as he started shuffling towards the door. You jolted into action, nearly dropping the shirt still in your hands as you turned towards him.

“No, you can—” your words softened, seeing his gaze flicker rapidly around your figure before finally landing on some spot by your cheek. “You can stay.” You paused, hoping your words weren’t too direct. “If you want.”

“You should put your shirt on,” Zoro said, almost choking on his words, like they were too big to fit in his mouth.

Your gaze dropped down before a steady blush started climbing up the sides of your face. “Right,” you started, but it was like you’d lost control of your hands. The shirt still hung limply from your grip.

“Or you could…” Zoro paused, lips parted as he sucked in a soft breath. Carefully, he moved back towards your bed, the only sound in the room a soft thump as he sat back on it. “Not.”

You swallowed. You could barely feel the lax of grip as your fingers released the shirt, letting it fall to the floor in one pathetic heap. You took a tentative step towards Zoro, and then another, until you were right in front of him. The soft night breeze through the window caused chills to erupt down your spine. Or maybe that was Zoro’s expression—nearly studious in his attentivity, eyes grazing across your chest and torso like he was taking in information for a new, particularly high-paying bounty.

“Zoro,” you started. He finally glanced up at your face, and you shuddered, biting down hard on your tongue. “I, um—hi.”

“Hey,” he said carefully, like he was testing the word on his tongue. Your gaze flickered down to his lips. He seemed to notice, but he didn’t say anything; rather, he raised one of his hands, pressing it against your side until his fingers tightened against your waist, a present, ever-pulsing rush of warmth. “I think my chest is bigger than yours.”

You flushed, a quick rush of crimson gracing your cheeks as you turned away. Zoro’s grip on your waist tightened, and a low laugh escaped the bottom of his throat. “That was mean,” you whined. Zoro’s other hand came up to your face, fingers pressing against the underside of your chin. He carefully angled your face down, so you couldn’t look anywhere but straight at him.

“It worked to calm you down, though,” he said easily. You were about to protest against the fact that you had been calm in the first place, but then Zoro was kissing you.

Zoro was a lot less aggressive than you’d originally expected, but as you sunk deeper into the kiss, it started to make sense. Zoro was all clean lines when he fought, practiced and perfect—no space for sloppy lines or scribbles. The way he kissed was similar; he applied pressure, but not too much pressure, and his thumb traced firm circles into the skin of your waist.

He angled your head with the hand firmly propped against your jaw, so you didn’t have to do a lot of the work—just press against his lips and move against the gentle rhythm he’d set. His teeth scraped carefully against your lower lip, and he tugged, letting a soft gasp out from your throat.

Zoro took the opportunity to pry your lips apart with his tongue, the fingers splayed against your chin coaxing your jaw open until he could slide his tongue against yours. You let out a soft whimper, hands scrambling to his shoulders and running along the muscles of his back. Of course you’d known he was well-built, but the firmness of his body forced another squeak out of you—one he was more than willing to swallow up.

Eventually, Zoro’s hand dropped from your jaw, skimming along your body line before coming to rest on the underside of one of your breasts. You gasped as he started to massage the skin with his thumb, accidentally biting down on his lower lip in the process. He groaned, the sound low as his rhythm sped up, the hand cupping your waist dropping down to your hip.

And then he was hoisting you up and onto his lap. “Oh my God,” you muttered, causing him to break away, eyes glinting with amusement.

“What?”

A heady rush had blossomed along your cheeks again. “Nothing. You.” Somewhere in the back of your head, you wondered how strong Zoro had to be to lift you off the ground so easily with only one arm—granted, it hadn’t been that far of a lift, but still. “Kiss me again.”

Zoro laughed but obeyed, his hand still working at your breast as the other dropped to your thigh. Your fingers interlaced with his short hair, tangling within the moss-green locks as his tongue ran along the ivories of your teeth. His teeth scraped against your lip as he moved away, lips instead following the line of your jaw and moving down to your neck.

You dropped your arm from his hair, hand pressing flat against his upper back. Zoro’s muscles flexed as he chased down your throat, and you sighed as he pressed gentle kisses along the line of your vein.

“Been—wanting to do this for a while,” Zoro panted between kisses, placing a final one kiss at the junction of your collarbone before glancing tentatively back up at you. You met his mouth in another kiss, a smile you hadn’t felt rising bright along your cheekbones.

“Me too,” you whispered, and a look of relief flashed across his face before he was ducking his head again to press more kisses along your neck. You let out a laugh—you could feel the rumble of his lips against the sound as it left your throat. Carefully, you ran your finger along his earrings, soft clinks filling the room at the action. “What was that? Did you think I didn’t?”

“Dunno,” Zoro muttered, and you laughed again before he nipped at your skin, teeth scratching in a gentle bite. At your chest, his hand squeezed your nipple, and you gasped.

“That was mean.”

“Mhm.” Zoro didn’t seem appeased, his kisses turning sloppier—open-mouthed, full of bite. He never pressed down hard enough to hurt, but your mouth was full of soft gasps and whines, and your hand had come down to clench against his bicep. God, his arms. “I don’t hear you complaining.”

You nudged him, meaning only for it to be a slight press. But Zoro let the action guide him, falling onto his back with you pressed against him, flat against the bed. He stilled, both hands dropping to your hips as he gaze lifted to drink you in.

You were certain you were a mess—blushing, lips probably swollen, bruise blossoms that would purple by morning scattered all along your neck. But the way he looked at you made it seem like you were all dolled up—like you were outfitted in a flowing gown, eyes sparkling and hair perfect instead of the mess it most undoubtedly was.

“You’re pretty,” he murmured, almost too quiet to hear. Actually, you were certain you weren’t supposed to hear it, because before you could respond, he was pulling you across him, fluidly rolling you onto your back. His forearm pressed against the mattress beside your head, caging you in. Zoro seemed to like this angle, moving down your neck to your chest with more gentle kisses.

You were content to let him take what he wanted, eyes not moving from his face as you watched his lips brush over your breast. His tongue was hot against your skin, and you sucked in a tight breath as he swirled it along your nipple. Zoro steadied you with a firm grasp, hand pressing against your side before pushing up to attend to the breast that his mouth wasn’t. You squirmed, a soft pool of warmth sitting in your lower belly as he worked. A tight knot had formed somewhere inside, and you let out a breathy gasp.

Zoro’s gaze traced lower, hand leaving your breast in favor of skidding down your figure to rest at the hand of your shorts. He paused, eyes flickering upwards to meet yours. Hastily, you nodded, and his fingers dipped below the cloth, head lowering to press another kiss by your hip bone. Your hands clenched against the bed sheets as his fingers skimmed the rim of your shorts, coaxing them down inch by inch before they finally slid down to your knees. You kicked them off insistently, and Zoro laughed, one hand coming to stroke your thigh as if to make you stop moving.

Even though you’d partly expected it, you hadn’t been ready for the soft kiss he pressed against your inner thigh. His hand hooked around the side of your panties, dragging them down as he kissed up your skin, and you took in a sharp breath that he wholly and entirely ignored. His movements became more insistent as you squirmed, open-mouth and biting, tongue darting out from between his lips to languidly swipe up your thigh. Finally he reached the junction of your thigh and core, mouth pressing a feather-light kiss that dragged an entirely shameful sound out from your throat.

Zoro pushed your panties all the way off your hips, letting them sit by your knees even as you squirmed to kick them off. “Shh,” he murmured, and you stopped, heart pounding as the sound sunk deep into your bloodstream. The tight knot in your lower belly had only grown tighter, and your breath caught in your throat as you watched Zoro, his eyes flickering all around your exposed core.

He ran a finger along the side of your slit, and you shuddered, watching as he experimentally traced it across your folds. He lowered his head to your hips, pressing a kiss onto your clit. You were barely able to suppress the buck of your hips as Zoro’s hand came to rest on your thigh, pinning you down as his other hand worked along your core.

His finger found your vagina, carefully sinking between your folds as his tongue worked languid circles around your clit. You let out a moan, voice stuttering against your throat as his finger slipped deeper inside you. It only took him a few moments to push another one in, the soft scrape of his cut fingernails eliciting sparks that drew another breathy moan out of you.

“Isn’t it a little—unfair that I’m the only one not wearing anything?” you managed out between breaths, and Zoro stopped his motions, head lifting and eyes glancing up at you from under his lashes. One of his eyebrows arched in question, and his lips were glossy with your fluids, causing your core to squeeze around his fingers. Somehow, he didn’t even seem to notice the motion.

“Oh, that’s what you want to focus on right now?” he murmured, all low and throaty. He always spoke low-pitched, vocal chords all brash and grating from the back of his throat, but his voice hummed even deeper now, although that didn’t seem humanly possible. Your muscles clenched again, and Zoro’s gaze dipped down to where his fingers were still pushed inside of you. He fluidly pressed in deeper, fingers curling inside your body before pulling out and working back in. Your retort was lost as you moaned again, the tight feeling of your gut slowly unwinding as he moved back and forth inside of you.

His mouth lowered to lick at your clit again, and you cried out, barely suppressing a scream as his fingers dug, more insistent, inside of you. He pressed one final kiss against your clit, and then sat back, eyes fixed on working at your core instead. His fingers pumped in and out, steady and fluid. Your breaths came out breathy and broken, climbing closer and closer to your climax until he finally reached the summit inside of you.

“Come,” Zoro whispered, the hand not taking care of you running reassuringly along your thigh. You came suddenly, hips stuttering from where’d they’d lifted off the mattress, a cry ripping out of your throat. Zoro slowly slipped his fingers out of you, rubbing soothing circles into your inner thigh as you ran out your climax. Your breaths evened out, becoming less deep, less frantic; Zoro watched all the while, a glossy shine over his eyes and the faintest of smiles pressed along his lips.

You tilted your gaze down to his face, catching him just as he started to move again. The fingers drenched in your fluids came up to his mouth, and he licked them clean. Your stomach dropped, somehow already turning you on despite having come just mere seconds beforehand.

“My turn,” Zoro said softly, sitting up to start unbuttoning his shirt. You hoisted yourself up, hands skimming along the sheets beside him, uncertain of whether he wanted you to touch. You glimpsed a stiff tent in his pants as he sat up, and swallowed hard, eyeing the pull with apprehension.

“Do you want me to—” you tried gesturing down to his hips, but he caught your hand swiftly, pressing it against the buttons of his shirt. “What do you want?”

“Sex,” Zoro said. Nothing else. You held back the choke that dared to escape your throat, and a sheepish grin crossed his face. It was lopsided, nearly a smirk, if not for the genuine warmth glimmering at his eyes. “Sorry. That was vague.”

“It’s okay,” you assured, stifling a laugh. Your hands worked fastidiously at his buttons. It took far longer than you felt it should’ve, fingers all clumsy as you tugged them through their holes, unlooping them from where it fixed the cloth together. Soon enough, though, Zoro was stripping the last of the fabric off, tossing it carelessly across the room before pulling you into another kiss.

He was sloppier now that you’d come, more comfortable in his element—you could taste the tang of yourself on his lips, and you let out a sigh, hands moving down his figure to work at his belt. He had to stop kissing you to tug at his pants, pushing them down his legs before finally kicking them off fully.

You ducked your head to press a kiss at his navel, eyes tracing the length that jutted out from his hips. Your breath caught, gaze fixed to a pale vein running up the line of his length. “Up,” Zoro murmured, and you glanced up. Zoro pressed a long kiss to your mouth, one hand skimming around your butt to pull you up by the headboard. He ran a hand over your core, as if to ascertain you were relaxed enough for him.

“Do you have anything for it?” he murmured, lips sending chills down your back as he pressed a soft kiss at your jaw.

“I’m on the pill, yeah,” you huffed out, arms winding around his torso. Zoro hummed his response, fingers running up and down your thigh as he adjusted, hips sliding against yours to meet your core.

You sucked in a breath, but he was gentle with it, pushing in slowly, hand running along your lower back and coaxing you still. The sensation sparked tingles all over your body; up your spine, along your hips, down your legs like Zoro was electricity himself. You let out a little sigh as he pushed up to his hilt into you, hips stuttering against his as you both paused for breath. He brushed a ghost of a kiss along your lips. “Okay?” Zoro murmured.

“Perfect,” you answered, arms clutching tighter around him, fingers digging into his back. You hoped it wasn’t too sharp, but considering how big Zoro was, it was likely he barely felt the pressure—the crescents of your fingernails were probably just pinpricks to him.

Zoro started moving, then, his actions soft and fluid at first, fingers pressing reassuring circles into your waist and hips. He was nearly tender with it, motions languid and slow, like he had all the time in the world. Your breaths came out easy, soft and just barely edging towards gasps.

He started thrusting with more insistence soon, though; Zoro’s hips bucked against yours, and your grip tightened along his shoulder blades as he pushed in and out of you. Soft gasps and whines left your throat, in stark contrast to the heavy groans and grunts that barely stuttered past Zoro’s lips.

“Like that,” you said, barely able to let out words of encouragement as he hit your sweet spot, buried deep inside of you. You let out a throaty moan as he moved faster and faster, thrusts becoming harder and more aggressive. You knocked your head back, one of your hands reaching to grab Zoro’s from where it propped him up by your head. He welcomed the invitation quickly, fingers interlacing with yours, coaxing your palm open into a kiss of your hands. His thrusts worked harder than ever, and you stopped chasing the friction, letting your hips buck up against his as he shoved into you.

A low groan erupted from his throat as he hit your spot again, mouth coming down to bite into your shoulder as he suppressed the cry that tore from his mouth. You swallowed, gasping hard for breath as you felt him come inside you, your walls clenching tight around him before you also felt the familiar burst of pressure. You let out a gasping moan, mind buzzing with sparks and tingles. Vaguely, you felt Zoro’s hand against your hip, moving up and down in calming strokes.

It took a moment for you both to recover, coming down from the blissful high after long seconds ticked by. Zoro removed his mouth from your shoulder, carefully prying his jaw off from your skin. He scrutinized the marks he’d left—crescents of teeth, undoubtedly—before lowering his head again to press an apologetic kiss to the bite. You laughed in surprise.

“I can be a gentleman,” Zoro protested lightly, though his words didn’t hold much of a fight as he carefully slid out of you. He did it slowly, inch by inch, leaving a hollow sensation in his wake when he eventually parted from you. “You okay?”

“Lovely,” you answered honestly, eyes grazing up his chest before meeting his. “You?”

“I’m good,” Zoro answered, a vague smile on his lips. It was soft, tender; maybe not as big as ones you’d seen when he was laughing with the crew, but special nonetheless. He studied you for a moment, and you took the opportunity to trace his face with your eyes. His pupils were blown, slowly receding back into small dots of shadow, and his lips were kissed red, swollen over and glossy with your saliva. “Want me to draw a bath?”

“No,” you said, content just to watch him like this. “We can clean up in the morning, it’s getting late.” You hesitated, suddenly uncertain, teeth tugging at your lower lip. “Unless… you want to go?”

Zoro snorted. “No, I think I like it here,” he decided. He sat up, reaching to pull the blankets over your figure so the gooseflesh you hadn’t even noticed on your skin would subside. “Too tired to move, anyway. Might stay here forever.”

“Dramatic ass,” you mumbled, wrapping a hand around his wrist and tugging him closer to you. Zoro obeyed, sliding beside you, one arm moving to wrap around your waist. “Go to sleep, you big dummy.”

Zoro’s breath was light against the shell of your ear. “That was unwarranted.”

“Sleep,” you insisted, and Zoro huffed, reaching the arm that wasn’t around you to the nightstand. He flicked the lantern off, then turned back towards you, finally settling down. His lips pressed a soft kiss along your shoulder, and you smiled, your hand reaching down to meet where his was splayed along your belly.

“Good night,” you whispered.

“Night,” he mumbled back, the end of the word tapering off into a soft, tired breath. You could feel his chest move, up and down in a steady, soft rhythm. You buried your head into the crook of his arm, letting out a contented sigh before finally closing your eyes to drift off to sleep.

© halfvalid 2023

[mxstellatayte]

pretty please: chapter one.

pretty please masterlist.

chapter one warnings: lewis lowkey being a sugar daddy, (sex spoilers after this,) legal use of alcohol, consensual sex!!!, lewis is really good at dirty talking lol, lewis has a big dick haha, oral sex (m and f receiving,) multiple orgasms (f receiving,) belly bulge, praise (m and f receiving,) lewis hamilton aftercare king

chapter one word count: 5.3k (3k words of porn tho don't worry)

taglist: @pear-1206 @vivi-81 @irishmanwhore

join my taglist here!

you made me an offer i can't refuse

thursday, 23 may, 2019

you push out a shaky breath, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles in your outfit one last time before stepping out of your hotel room. today is the day you've been both dreading and looking forward to for the past two weeks- the day you interview the one and only lewis hamilton at the monaco grand prix media day.

when you'd been offered the opportunity for a one-on-one interview with one of the most iconic faces in both the fashion and motorsports world, you thought you were dreaming. turns out that the journalist who had originally been assigned to the project had a family emergency and needed time off of work, so the chance to lead the project was yours and yours alone. of course, once you realized that you were not dreaming, you accepted. despite your preparation, you're still terrified. you have ten questions at the ready in your small notebook that you've read over and attempted to memorize approximately twelve times each hour for the past three days, but the practice does nothing to soothe your anxiety.

"fuck it," you say to yourself, inspecting your makeup one last time before slipping your feet into your signature shoes- platform high top converse. once on the streets of monaco, you hail a cab to take you to the circuit, your black and purple media badge secure in your purse. your stomach is twisting with anxiety the whole way there, and when you pay the driver and step out of the cab, it only increases tenfold.

you're about to interview lewis hamilton. no big deal.

yeah.

not a big deal at all.

the next hour and a half is a whirlwind of meeting with lewis' manager to getting your questions checked over to getting a tour of the media center to seeing the recording booth where you're going to be interviewing the driver. it's a nice room, but it's separate from the rest of the media areas, so you assume it's likely not normally for recording podcasts.

"how long do i have before the interview?" you ask, turning to lewis' pr manager.

"about twenty minutes, but lewis is going to be here in ten for soundcheck. make yourself comfortable for now, can i get you anything? water, tea, coffee?"

"a cup of tea would be lovely, thank you." you smile and nod, sitting down inside the booth on the plush couch. in a feeble attempt to quell your nerves, you take your mini notebook out of your bag and go over the questions for the umpteenth time today, but the words on the page blur together as you try to squish down the stirring in your stomach.

"here's the tea for you," someone says, and you're expecting it to be the manager you'd spoken to, but when you look up, you're met with an unfairly beautiful face. oh. okay. this is happening. you're casually accepting a cup of tea from five-time world champion lewis hamilton. the man you're about to interview.

no big deal.

the interview goes by without any hiccups, and, before you know it, your hour in the booth is up, and you say your on-camera goodbyes before they stop recording. as you're about to leave, though, lewis gently touches your upper arm and asks to speak to you for a moment-

only if you don't have something to rush to, of course- and your heart leaps into your throat. had you said something wrong or hit a sensitive nerve with one of your questions?

"i want to thank you. not a lot of reporters are able to ask questions beyond the simple 'how do you plan on winning this weekend' and 'what changes are you going to make based on mistakes made at the previous race,' so i applaud you. your questions were really different from what i was expecting, and your interview style is really unique. i enjoyed talking to you." he extends his hand and you shake it firmly, your chest feeling like it might just explode with pride.

"thank you, mr. hamilton. i'm incredibly grateful for the opportunity to speak with you, and i'm looking forward to any i may have in the future." the driver beams, and you can't help but notice the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. it's annoyingly pretty.

"i won't have any of this 'mr. hamilton' nonsense. call me lewis. after talking to you for an hour, i can tell that you're very knowledgeable when it comes to both motor sports and fashion, which is really impressive. and i look forward to speaking with you in the future, too." the two of you chat for a few more minutes before he's summoned once more, and you bid your goodbyes.

a few minutes later, as you're trying to calm down your heart rate so that you can maintain some small semblance of composure before returning to the outside world, one of your long-time friends from college approaches you from behind, and, in her standard fashion, scares the shit out of you.

"boo."

you shriek, your previous efforts to stabilize your heart rate now entirely in vain. "christ, amelia! do you have to sneak up on me everywhere?"

"absolutely. i also have something to tell you something." your eyebrows furrow as she almost instantly moves on from the fact that she nearly scared you half to death mere seconds ago, but you almost fully pass away by choking on your saliva two seconds later. "you've got it really down bad for him, and you're not subtle about it. at all."

after you're done recovering from yet another near-death experience, you punch her left arm. hard. "you are so lucky i don't have a weapon right now." amelia laughs, her head thrown back and her shoulders bouncing with delight.

"awe, come on." she smiles at you, her eyes glittering in their signature way, signaling that she's about to drag you into a potentially messy and new situation. "you know that the rules state very clearly that there's a zero-tolerance policy for physical or verbal harassment."

i got it bad for you, so baby

thursday, 28 november, 2019.

it's your third time interviewing lewis in the 2019 season, and since you first spoke to him at the monaco grand prix, things have changed for both of you. following the success of your interview with him at the monaco grand prix and the article you wrote to go along with it, you'd been promoted from your previous position as fashion field journalist to the lofty title of fashion and sports researcher and journalist. as soon as lewis hears the news, he's sure to congratulate you, this time at one of the biggest spectacles in motorsports: the abu dhabi grand prix. you can't help but beam with pride when he mentions your new title, thanking him again for his time, and remembering to call him by his first name despite how strange it feels.

"i should be congratulating you on something, as well, six-time world champion," you grin, happy as your friendly banter with lewis seems to fall into place. your first time meeting him, you were so terrified of saying something wrong that you didn't let yourself really let go and show your personality. the second time, in mexico, you were able to relax a little bit more and even crack a few jokes. today, you're all smiles and even got breakfast with him before the scheduled meeting time. one anxiety you'd voiced was that the same paparazzi that you've worked with in the past don't take photos of you with the driver and sell them to the media, which would undoubtedly start a pr disaster for both of you.

"if you'd rather have breakfast in the paddock, i can have that set up," he'd offered, and, once again, who would you be to decline such a kind offer?

so here you find yourself, enjoying an expertly brewed italian iced coffee and two perfectly crumbly strawberry scones, sitting across from the reigning world champion of motorsport.

you know, standard thursdays.

"one thing i don't think i've mentioned before," lewis begins, setting down his cup of tea, "is how much i admire that you try to find the human behind the driver."

your eyebrows furrow. "i don't think i follow."

"i now realize my wording is really weird. let me fix that." you laugh, taking another bite of your scone. "you don't exclusively ask questions about driving. you dig into our hobbies and interests outside of the paddock. in my experience, the way you balance questions for both motorsports and fashion is fascinating."

"it's all part of the job. i wouldn't be where i am without interesting questions, would i?" lewis smiles, shaking his head.

"i doubt it, but you are pretty damn smart. i bet you'd find a way to make it here one way or another."

"i'm flattered."

the conversation continues easily as the two of you finish your breakfast, then, as you begin to prepare yourself to stand and leave, he stops you. "actually, there's one last thing i wanted to do before we went on camera."

your head tilts in confusion as you set your signature lipstick back in your bag, a deep red balm that you've used since you started working at vogue. it's become your trademark product, and almost everyone in the office knows exactly which one you use. "do i need to be worried, lewis?"

"no, not at all! it's this," he says, and your eyebrows rise in complete and utter shock when he pulls out a small box wrapped in white paper and a crimson bow wrapped around it all. "i wanted to get you a gift as a way of saying thank you for all the curveball questions you've thrown at me this year." your hands shake as you take the box from him, and you already know exactly which brand it is. cartier. sure, you've written pieces about their timeless looks and elegant aesthetics, and owning a piece of their jewelry has always been a dream of yours, but it's always been just that: a dream.

"lewis, i can't accept this. i- i'm honestly at a loss for words. seriously, no." you can't help but flush at how he's looking at you, those annoyingly beautiful eyes of his and the stupidly perfect crow's feet that only show up when he really smiles- when he smiles the way he is now. gods, amelia was right. you really are down bad for the driver.

"please, just open it up. if you don't like it, i'll take it back and you can choose something you prefer." he nudges the box towards you once more, and the crisp wax seal that sits on top of the paper is incredibly enticing.

"are you serious?" a part of you wants to think that this is some sick joke, that there's cameras on you and it's all going up on one of those prank channels on youtube. a much, much bigger part of you believes lewis, though. that is the part of you that takes the box between your shaking hands, carefully pops open the wax seal, nimbly unties the beautiful ribbon, and gently unfolds the pure white paper. when you finally open the box, you gasp, tears threatening to well in your eyes. "lewis..."

"do you like it?" his voice sounds anxious and hopeful, and you can't help but realize how much thought he'd put into this gift. when you'd invited him into your office to review some photos that were to go into an article in the next vogue issue a few months prior, he'd seen the vision board on your wall and asked about it. bashfully, you had explained to him that it was a silly idea you had when you graduated from uni with your friends- each of you made one, cutting and pasting photos from pinterest, magazines, newspapers, and anything you could find, assembling your dreams in a mishmash of colors and ideas. one of your dreams on the board had been to own this exact necklace- the cartier juste un clou necklace in white gold. the fourteen diamonds set in the precious metal glitter back at you, and you can't help but smile.

"i love it, lewis. thank you so much." he visibly relaxes, his shoulders loosening and the crease between his eyebrows disappearing.

"i'm glad. here, turn around. let me put it on you?" you happily oblige, lifting your hair out of the way after you stand so that he can fasten the delicate clasp over your spine.

it's safe to say that both his and your fans noticed the necklace hanging between your collarbones, sitting just below the star necklace you wear daily on top of your dark grey high-collared shirt. you try your best not to look at the comments on the videos of your interviews, but amelia had shown you one that day after the unedited interview went up online.

"are they dating or something? i can't get over how lewis looks at her."

sunday, 1 december, 2019

after the race, lewis crossing the line not only in p1, more than 16 seconds ahead of the rest of the grid, but with the fastest lap, as well, you're sure to congratulate him on your social media accounts and in person in the pit lane. "lewis!" his head turns at the sound of your voice, and he sees you moving as quickly as you can down the pit lane, neon green paddock pass hanging from your neck alongside the black and purple media pass. your signature converse and light wash jeans complete your outfit, and his heart swells with joy when he sees that you're still wearing the necklace he gave you.

"hey! i'm glad they let you down here after the race. i was a bit worried i'd have to wring a security guard's neck to get you down here."

"aw, you'd do that for little old me?"

"i'd do just about anything for the most interesting reporter in the paddock," he replies, ever so cocky and so annoyingly pretty. seriously, was he a saint or something in his past life? it feels painfully unfair that he was blessed with such perfect looks and charm. it makes your stomach twist with a flirty giddiness you haven't felt since you were a teenager. it's exciting. "are you coming to the after party?"

"i don't know if i'll be able to. i have a lot to do in the next few days and i honestly don't know if i'm going to be able to take a break on the plane back to london. i'll probably be sitting in my seat going over notes and writing up an article or answering an obscene amount of emails."

"please? just one night? i'll buy your drinks." he bats his eyes at you, and it really shouldn't make you fold as easily as it does, but here you are, sitting in his mercedes and driving to a probably very heinously overpriced club.

a girl needs to be a passenger princess every now and then, right?

when you arrive at the club, you have to force your lips to stay closed so that your jaw doesn't drop in shock and awe. paparazzi swarm you as soon as you step out of the car and lewis hands the keys to the valet, and for a moment, you're convinced this is some sort of sick and twisted fever dream as microphones are shoved in your direction and cameras flash quickly enough to make you glad you don't have photosensitive epilepsy. when lewis' hand rests on the small of your back and he smiles brightly at you, though, you're reassured that this is very much real.

"after you." you smile back at him, your own anxiety lessening just a tiny bit now that you know that he's right there by you.

pretty please, come on over and ruin my life

how did you end up here?

you'll blame it on the alcohol.

either way, lewis' lips feel amazing on yours, and you waddle slightly as he backs you up to the bed in his extravagant hotel room. "need this off," he mutters, hands searching under your shirt and gripping at your waist. your brain is a foggy mess of lust, alcohol, and a lot more lust, and as quickly as you can, you pull back from the kiss (much to lewis' dismay,) tug your shirt out of your waistband and yank it over your head, tossing it somewhere to your right. almost immediately, strong arms wrap back around your torso and you're caged in, and every single one of your senses is flooded with lewis, lewis, lewis. his skin is hot underneath where your hands lay, your right on his cheek and your left clutching the side of his neck as if letting go would result in falling off the face of the earth.

his kisses are messy, desperate, and wet. his tongue glides along your own and you moan wantonly, the noise only further spurring on his efforts. as you lay back against the bed, lewis kisses his way down your chest (when did your bra come off?), lavishing each of your breasts with his tongue and hands. one hand works over your flesh, kneading and pinching while his tongue licks over your right nipple, gently biting and sucking and smirking when you moan once again, switching to the other side. "lewis, oh my god-" you interrupt yourself with an embarrassingly loud whine, your back arching as deft fingers pop open the button on your jeans, unzip the fly, and slip into your panties.

"fuck, darling, so wet for me already," lewis groans, his head buried into your neck as he bites gently at the sensitive skin there. "i'm gonna have to get a taste before i fuck you."

"yes, oh my god, please," you whine, the mere thought of the driver between your thighs making another rush of butterflies flood your lower tummy. you almost laugh when you realize that you still have your converse on and he's struggling with the laces, so you lift yourself up off of the bed and shoo his hands away, instead expertly undoing the white laces in less than ten seconds and kicking them off your feet, leaning back onto your elbows as they hit the ground with a muffled thump. "you are way too overdressed."

sure, you've seen photos of lewis shirtless before, but it doesn't compare to seeing it in person and up close, and...

fuck.

he's beautiful.

"that's not fair."

"what?" lewis laughs, crawling back over you after you both pull your pants off and toss them to the side, and your breath briefly catches in your throat as the scent of his cologne overwhelms your senses.

"you aren't allowed to be nice and hot. it doesn't work like that." lewis laughs, leaning down to press another kiss to your lips that intoxicates you more than any of the high proof alcohols you've drank in the past few hours.

"well, i guess i'm a rule breaker, then." he shuffles you up the bed so that your head rests on the plush pillows, sighing in relief when you think he's finally going to fuck you, but you gasp when he slides his way back down to your thighs, pulls them apart with his hands, and settles between them. "fuck."

"lewis, please. need you."

"what do you need, baby?" he teases as his hands begin stroking up and down your thighs. you're about to respond, but you cut yourself off with a cry when his fingers gently stroke up your panty-covered slit, the sensitivity making your back arch and your hands grip the sheets tightly.

"fucking hell, i... i need you to eat me out."

"i thought you'd never ask." his fingers tug at the waistband of your panties and you lift your hips slightly, just enough for him to slide them off of your legs and add them to the growing pile of clothing on the floor. without wasting a second, he dives into your cunt, tongue dragging along your slit from your entrance all the way up to your clit, and you both moan in unison. his hands grab at the meat of your ass, pulling your hips closer to his face, and you yelp, but it's quickly cut off with another moan as lewis' tongue prods at your entrance, hot and insistent.

"mmgh, lewis, fuck, so good." you barely have any control over your own mouth as lewis eats you out, his tongue expertly lapping up every part of your cunt as if it's the best meal he's ever tasted. he quickly figures out what makes you twitch and moan and focuses on that, his nose bumping against your clit as his jaw hinges open and he swallows you whole. his hands tightly grip your ass, the pads of his fingers digging into the skin and definitely leaving some form of marks to appear later in the night, but that's the least of your concerns when you have the world champion of motorsport between your legs. the moans that tumble past your lips echo off of the bare walls of the lavish hotel room, but not a single noise you make is embellished in the slightest- he's just making you feel that good. the coil in your tummy builds and builds, but your brain has been reduced to mush from pleasure, so you have to resort to scrabbling your hands at whatever you can grab, your fingers ultimately tugging at his neat braids. lewis thankfully gets the hint and only increases his efforts, his left hand moving from your ass to gently push two fingers into your entrance, and, when he curls them upwards, perfectly hitting your g-spot, you nearly sob, your orgasm hitting you a lot sooner than you had anticipated. "oh, lewis, don't stop, please. feels so good, baby, fuck."

lewis helps you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm, pulling his fingers out of you and pressing a tender kiss to your hipbone before climbing back up to you and connecting your lips in yet another messy kiss, and you groan when you can taste your cum on his tongue. when lewis' boxer-covered erection grinds against your sensitive clit, your mouth falls open in a gasp, letting him take the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth and run against yours. when you kiss him, it feels like you've stepped through the gates of heaven and you're kissing an angel. you suck greedily on lewis' tongue and he moans in response, making you smile into the kiss.

lewis pulls back momentarily and you pout, but the sight before you is absolutely beautiful. his skin glows with a thin sheen of sweat and his lips and chin are covered in a mix of your cum and spit. it's gorgeous. "are you okay with this?"

"more than okay," you grin, leaning up to peck his lips quickly. "it's fantastic."

"in that case, i'd love to fuck you properly..." at his words and the feeling of his lips ghosting down the side of your neck, pressing feather-light kisses along the sensitive skin, you shiver, your hands coming to rest on the sides of his torso. "if you'll have me, of course."

"please do." with another smile, lewis pushes himself up and off the bed, returning promptly with a condom in his hand. you bite your lip and watch eagerly as he pulls down his boxers, and...

fuck.

you're fucked.

"seriously, lewis? are you kidding?" your head falls back with an exasperated laugh, your shoulders shaking as you realize: of course he's big. if he's nice and attractive, then it's almost a guarantee that he's going to have a big dick. "you really just have it all, don't you?" the mattress dips, and you raise your head again, looking back at him as he crawls towards you, almost catlike in his motions.

"i could say the same for you. beautiful, kind, intelligent, an absolutely killer ass..." you scoff and roll your eyes, trying to come up with a cocky response, but your brain short circuits when you feel lewis begin to push the head of his cock into you. "oh, fuck."

"lewis, oh my god," you keen, your hands reaching up and finding purchase on his broad shoulders for stability. his left hand holds your waist while his right grips at your hip, the tightness of his hold almost painful... almost.

"baby, you're so tight. taking me so well. 's like you were made for me." you're pretty sure the words spilling from lewis' mouth are just mindless, sex-brain-induced babbles, but either way, it makes your pussy throb around him, and you both groan in pleasure when his hips finally meet yours. he looks down at you and almost chokes- you look absolutely stunning. your eyes are screwed shut, your lips parted as breathy moans sneak their way past them, and your hair is splayed around your head like a halo.

when you finally manage to pry your eyes open and steady your breathing, lewis is gazing down at you, and you can't help but pull him down for yet another kiss. how many times have you kissed him tonight?

not enough, you decide.

between soft and slow kisses, you breathe out the words that lewis has been praying you'll say: "you can move, lew." when he does, slowly pulling out most of the way before pushing back in, the drag of his cock against your walls makes you shudder, your nails digging into his shoulders and undoubtedly leaving crescent-moon shaped divots in the skin. "oh... oh, fuck, baby."

"you like that, baby? you like having my cock inside of you?"

all you can muster in response is a meek "mhmm," but that isn't enough for him. he grabs your face, forcing you to look at him, and halts his steady thrusts, making you whine.

"use your words. i know you can- you showed me this morning."

"yes!" you sob. "yes, i love feeling you fill me up. i love it, lewis. it feels so good. feels perfect."

"there you go. i knew you could do it." his words make you moan even louder as he resumes his thrusts, this time at a much faster pace. "fuck, look at that. taking me so well... i can even see it. gimme your hand, baby. feel it yourself." he places your left hand low on your stomach, just between your hipbones, and... oh.

oh.

you can feel his dick filling you up under your hand.

"lewis, oh my god!" your moans only increase in volume with his own when he presses down onto the bulge in your tummy with his hand, changing how deeply you feel him, and it sends you hurtling towards your second orgasm of the night embarrassingly fast. "fuck, fuck, lewis, don't stop. feels so good, baby, just like that, yes!" your own hand sneaks around his wrist and rubs circles around your clit, which makes you clench around him, which in turn throws you into your orgasm. "lewis, 'm cumming, 'm cumming, ah!"

"just like that, baby, cum for me. so perfect. so, so perfect." lewis talks and fucks you through your orgasm, his own fingers taking over when yours falter on your clit. when the end of your orgasm trails off, you try to catch your breath, but when your post-orgasmic clarity dawns on you, you realize that lewis didn't cum.

"oh, fuck, lewis... let me suck you off. you didn't cum."

"are you sure? i'm-" he cuts himself off with a grunt, his hips stuttering as he slows his thrusts so as to not hurt you in your oversensitive state, but when you nod, your bottom lip pinched seductively between your teeth, he gives in. "alright, yeah. yeah." he pulls out of you and you roll over, shuffling your way down the bed until you're settled between his legs, your arms resting on his upper thighs.

"you're so pretty, lewis. so, so pretty." if it was a bit brighter in the room, you would've seen the way lewis' mouth ticks open and his dick twitches at your praise, but the singular bedside lamp is barely enough to light the room. instead of noticing, you gently peel the condom off of his cock and toss it in the trash can underneath the bedside table, then settle back between lewis' legs and let a fat drop of saliva leak onto his cock.

"fuck, if you keep saying things like that i'm not gonna last long," lewis groans, his head thrown back into the pillows.

"oh, you don't want to hear me call you pretty? you don't want me to say that you're one of the most beautiful people i've ever laid eyes on, and that i've waited months to be here just to tell you that?" your hand begins lazily stroking his hard cock as you continue rambling shamelessly, your mind a sex-addled haze that you have nearly no control over. after watching in awe as a pearly bead of precum swells at the head of lewis' cock, you decide that enough is enough and that you have to taste him. your tongue falls out of your mouth, the flat of it brushing up the bottom of his dick until you reach the tip, and then you secure your lips around it, and fuck, if having the taste of lewis' cum on your tongue isn't enough to make your eyes flutter shut for a moment, you don't know what is.

lewis' hand finds itself in your hair, pulling gently as you begin to bob your head along the length of his dick, and you can't help but feel pride bloom in your chest when his hips begin bucking up to meet your mouth and hand, shoving the tip so far back you swear the back of your throat might be slightly bruised in the morning. you moan shamelessly as he does so, letting him fuck your mouth as he pleases until he cums, warm ropes of sticky fluid filling your mouth as he spills into you. pulling off, you swallow part of his load and clean what little remains off of his softening cock with gentle kitten licks, smiling faintly as he whimpers quietly at the oversensitivity. after crawling up to the head of the bed and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, lewis' eyes search yours before dipping down to your mouth. you're a bit confused as his left hand comes up to your face, thinking he's going to kiss you again, but instead, his thumb swipes against the corner of your mouth and pries past your lips, a silent order that you obey willingly. you'd missed one tiny drop of his cum on your cheek. his thumb pops out of your mouth momentarily and you collapse down next to him, the exhaustion of the jam-packed day finally catching up to you.

"i'm gonna go grab a towel to clean you up, yeah?" you nod sleepily, a quiet hum escaping your body. "you're staying here tonight. i won't stand for letting you out of my bed for the next twelve hours." this time, if a question mark could be a sound, that's the noise you make. lewis understands you, though. "we'll take my jet. don't worry about your fight." another content sound from you.

by the time lewis returns to the bed, warm damp washcloth in hand, you're asleep, and he can't help but tuck the strands of hair out of your face after he cleans up your swollen cunt and tucks you into the soft bedding, joining you shortly thereafter.

yeah.

he's fucked.

[obsessivelullabies]

— stalker simon riley.

warnings : intense stalking/yandere themes. suggestion of kidnapping at end. mdni, 18+. gender neutral reader.

a/n : i need to sleep but the idea came to me </3 dunno if i'll make a part two but it would probably be both endings? idk

simon riley had been stalking you for years. his obsession started after you’d shown him, a stranger, a simple act of kindness. could you blame him? he was going through a rough patch. you were exactly what he needed to make him feel better.

everyday he had on leave was centered around you. it wasn’t like he had anybody else. simon learned everything he could about you through your social media, your routine, what you spent time doing.

over time, his obsession only get more obscene. he set up cameras outside your house to ensure your safety, he found a way to comb through all your messages and began leaving gifts on your doorstep.

it started with something cute. maybe flowers or some chocolates he knew you liked. innocent stuff. it escalated into creepy notes, polaroids of you doing everyday things.

one day, as you were at the grocery store, he finally broke into your home. due to his military training, he was sure he could go undetected. he set up more cameras inside. this was his best fucking idea. this way, even when he was deployed, he could see your gorgeous face and body.

simon would spend time observing you from the comfort of his apartment. he’d fist his cock to your pace as he watched you fuck yourself with dildos. he knew he could fuck you so much better. the idea consumed him, how well you’d take his cock, the slutty little moans and gasps you’d let out.

once he set up those cameras of you, his desires only got worse. he’d have a wall of printed out photos of you in his apartment. every night, he day dreamt about how badly he needed you. he thought about waking up beside you, cooking you breakfast, kissing you, snuggling with you.

you were his safe haven. his escape. when he was deployed, he always pushed forward thinking about the day he’d finally be able to hold you in his arms.

simon knew he had to make you his. in his mind, he had two options. one, slowly and naturally infiltrate your life, be the perfect man you needed. or, the faster, easier way: taking you.

after lots of thought, he knew what he had to do.

masterlist.

[caitlinsclark]

WINNER caitlin clark caitlin clark x reporter!reader | summary: Caitlin has a very apparent soft spot for her favorite reporter. based on this concept! word count: 2.8k masterlist and tag list

You should’ve put two and two together from the beginning, but it was hard to believe that the attention you received from Caitlin was meant to be anything more than friendly. The first time you got a subtle hint that there was more was after her team’s win against New York Liberty. The conference room was buzzing with reporters, a rumble of excited murmuring keeping the area from being quiet.

Caitlin sat in the center of the long table, her face showing pure exhaustion and a part of your heart squeezed in your chest for her. Though a weak smile remained on her face, her eyes contradicted it as they appeared sunken in and her movements seemed sluggish.

A few minutes in, her fist held the weight of her head as she stared blankly at the wild sea of reporters. The list your boss had created for you was held in your grasp, but it descended from its position near your chest as you lost the will to push any invasive questions onto the clearly tired girl.

“Caitlin, how do you feel about the somewhat bitter comments made by other players in regard to your rising success in the WNBA?” A reporter from a few rows over pushed a clear and untrue agenda about an incident that could be boiled down to nothing more than the game.

A sigh left from deep within her chest, one that was clearly building up through the entirety of the previous questions the media had been forcing. As a media trained athlete, the brunette was able to deflect the pushy reporter flawlessly and stoically then proceed to move onto the next without a blink.

When it was finally your turn to take her attention, which you had admittedly been waiting a little too eagerly for, you pretended to glance over the notepad in your hand. Though you had no intention of relaying any of the pushy questions written down. Your boss wouldn’t be too mad if you gave her a break once, right?

“Caitlin, hi,” You grinned and sent her a tiny wave and stated your name, hoping she'd remember you but didn't want to get your hopes high. Caitlin’s head lifted from where it rested against her hand, at a speed that rivaled her enthusiasm on the court earlier. Her eyes scanned your figure from head to toe in a less than conspicuous manor, but you chalked it up to curiosity.

A tiny smile, an improvement from her previous frown nonetheless, appeared on her lips at the mention of your name, “Hi, and I know.” Though it was quiet, you still caught the end and it knocked the wind out of your lungs. The softness in which she greeted you with was enough to make your knees buckle and question your fleeting professionalism.

You couldn't ignore the way the athlete gazed at you, as if you’d already had a hundred conversations before. The familiarity she greeted you with was welcoming and invoked a small warmth to spread within your body. You had to briefly shift on your feet to humble yourself.

Admittedly, Caitlin had your name within her Instagram search history. Twice. Her first time seeing you inside the conference room was enchanting to say the least. The stark contrast from how you posed yourself with a genuine interest to learn about her as opposed to the other story-hungry people around you was enough to pull her in.

You two had a few quick interviews spaced out during her rookie season that you assumed she had forgotten about with how much press she does. But nothing could’ve wiped her mind of the way she got an ego boost when hearing nothing but praise falling from your lips at the mention of her name. She wanted to keep it that way.

The reporters surrounding you followed her line of vision, curiously observing what could have possibly elicited that reaction from the athlete. Despite the switch in the media’s attention, Caitlin’s intense gaze remained on your features with her lips pursing in an anticipation at what you were waiting to ask.

You cleared your throat with your hand in front of your mouth, dragging out the spectacle as Caitlin gazed at you in amusement. Not even the tall microphone in front of her face could hide the upward tilt of her lips as you prepared to ask the question, intending and hoping to give the girl a break.

“My sources tell me you’re pretty decent at basketball,” you started with a quick glance back at your notes once the severity of her unwavering eye contact began to warm your face. She made a so-so gesture in response to you which left the crowd laughing as well.

“Have you ever thought of maybe, possibly making something like a career out of it?”

The laugh that pulled from Caitlin at your unfunny question surprised everyone in the room, including yourself. But you weren’t in a place to ponder it and laughed along, as a(n extremely) pretty girl finding your (un)funny advances hilarious was not something you wasted time questioning.

Caitlin could tell your intentions considering the comparison to the statistical questions you posed just a few days ago and the conference before. Which only made her stomach flip as the recognition of you noticing her well-being now rang in her head.

Her eyebrows raised in a playful expression, as if challenging you, “Are you saying I’m not currently making a career?” It was clear she wasn’t taking offense and seeing the humor, maybe even thankful for the pause in serious commentary. But the arms that crossed over her chest and muscles that began to flex had you needing a pause for some serious commentary.

“No, no, you must be doing pretty good. My cousin looks up to you. Then again, she’s kinda at that state where she still looks up to Princess Ariel for example, are you really okay with being grouped there?” Your tone shifted as if it was a pressing headline and faked a grimace, but only for a second until your nonchalant character somewhat broke.

But she couldn’t didn’t even have it in her heart to hold it against you with the way your face scrunched up, it was cute while it lasted. And maybe it was even more cute after too, she couldn’t help but note.

Caitlin was quick to play off your little act even somewhat defensively, “She was one of my favorites,” Her fingers toyed with the pre-wrap holding back her messy ponytail, lingering near her cheeks that started to tint red. Her smile that was now directed at the table, shyly for a player of her caliber and power, seemed to light up her face in a drastic change from minutes ago.

She sure looked like a winner now, you thought as you scanned her face in detail. The previously sunken in look of her eyes was now distracted by her bright grin, dazzling the entire group. You glance to the media person next to you and think she could pass out just at the dazzling charisma radiating from Caitlin's spot on stage. Caitlin tried to smooth down her hair, as she now somehow felt unkempt in the presence of you.

Though, you knew no better and were quick to counteract as you tapped your lips with your pointer finger thoughtfully, “She’s mine too.” But the way your eyes narrowed right at her had Caitlin’s hopes spiking up that you were referring to more than just the character.

The goofy smile now fully graced her features and you ached to take a hundred pictures of the look on her face in case it disappeared again. Though you feared that still wouldn’t be enough to capture it properly. Maybe you could threaten the reporter next to you for a replay, though.

And as she found herself basking in the small laugh that you attempted to keep down but failed to, she had to shift in her chair and clear her throat to compose herself. The next reporter asked the question, she still felt relief in the comfort of your attention on her. You tried not to read into the way her positive demeanor remained for the rest of the questioning.

Now Caitlin felt like a winner too. But maybe not only from the basketball game.

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

The next conference solidified the lingering suspicions that your mind had sparked about Caitlin’s actions toward you in the previous one. It was following a painfully close loss to the Mystics and it wasn’t hard to see the disappointment littering the entire team.

The brunette’s eyes had immediately scanned the front row of hungry press, though the one she was looking for didn’t seem to turn up.

A multitude of questions rumbled out by the media, which were all being fielded directly to Caitlin, had her frustration levels growing and growing. Her forehead rested on her fist, face turned down at the table as if even looking at the cameras was painful.

“Caitlin,” Another reporter prepared to ask her a question except she couldn’t help but interrupt the continuous stream only targeted at her.

The athlete waved her hand dismissively and gestured to her teammate on the left, “No, I’m good. Ask Aliyah a question.” The reporter attempted to repeat her name but Caitlin shut her mouth and leaned back in her chair.

Her frustration toward the media extended to a lack of respect to not only her, but her teammates as well.

In midst of the loss, she didn’t see you push your way to the front. Maybe it was a little too eager, but how could you not continue the tradition of relieving your favorite team from the vultures known as your fellow reporters? At least that’s what you were gonna keep telling yourself as you purposely straightened your shirt before Caitlin could see you.

Taking your opportunity to change the narrative, “You both had a really strong fight out there today, what did you feel like your best asset was that you’ll take into next game?” Though you tried to target your question toward Aliyah so the pretty (tired) girl beside her caught a, much needed, break.

To your own shock, Caitlin’s head turned at the sound of your voice and her chin settled comfortably on her palms in your direction. A small sigh escaped her lips, heard by her fellow player who immediately caught on to what had her friend reverting to a behavior like one of a lovestruck little girl.

Though you tried your best to give your full attention to Aliyah as she started her answer, it was a battle that people much stronger than you would’ve lost. Your eyes drifted over to the brunette donning a 22 jersey once, only to snap back to her teammate once you caught Caitlin still looking at you. If there was a subtle way to fan yourself, you would’ve started already.

You gave Aliyah your full attention until she finished up her answer, expecting that to be the end of it, “The team dynamics are just getting more and more solid as we go on.”

Despite her previous dismissal, Caitlin jumped at the chance to also answer the question once she was sure her teammate was finished.

“Me personally,” She paused to point at herself, drawing out her answer as long as possible and a smirk lit up her face when directing her answer at you, “I feel like we have been melding as a team. The dynamics are only getting more and more improved from here.” Her hands returned to hold up her chin as she looked at you in awe, forgetting about all the cameras capturing her reaction.

Aliyah’s face scrunched up in protest, “I literally just said that?” The conference room broke out in laughter but Caitlin continued, this time with a sheepish smile that was on full display as her focus finally shifted.

“So yeah, team work helped us...”

She failed to see the sheepish smile you hid behind the notepad in your hands as you took in her body language and ignorance to the room around you. The forwardness of her undivided attention was not something that many were as fortunate to have.

“Chill with the heart eyes, yikes,” Aliyah muttered to her teammate, pushing her elbow off the edge of the table to cut her rambling answer off. Caitlin stumbled and almost hit the table, trying to play it off with a laugh but still kicked Aliyah in retaliation under the table. She knew who Caitlin was trying to impress.

When press was over and the media began to clear out, Aliyah made a conscious decision that she couldn’t bear to go through another press conference with a love sick, yet single Caitlin.

“Sorry CC, but like you said, not me, team work is gonna help us here. Same way it helped in the game,” Aliyah put her hands on Caitlin’s shoulders, dusting off her jersey, “I’m gonna throw you to the wolves and you’re gonna do the rest. That’s team work!” Her teammate turned her figure around and gave her back a shove before any response formed in Caitlin’s head.

The brunette caught herself before she could stumble too bad. The room had cleared out by now as officials ushered everyone out but it seemed like time was on her side. Or maybe you had purposefully pretended to retie your shoe to get the workers to give you a few seconds, the world may never know.

But your perfume seemed to get stuck within her senses and jam every coherent thought trying to get past her mind block, which was simply made up of you. She was met with a dazzling smile on your features, one that she couldn't believe was all for her.

“A basketball player without good balance? Was I right when I said you were only pretty decent?” Your lips formed an ‘o’ as you let out a mocking gasp, and though Caitlin was already steady on her feet you still put your hands on her arms, “Do you need an escort so you don’t risk an ankle?”

Caitlin’s head was going haywire at the, unnecessary but very much welcome, contact you were offering and tried not to move too much. You got a small smile out of her but were determined to do more.

“I’d be happy to be said escort,” You throw out, quite boldly but not close to the level of boldness she was reaching during the past conferences. You play it off, but you swear she begins to flex under your light grip on her arms, “You know, just for your own safety, of course.”

She nodded slowly, her playfully narrowed eyes seeing through your act, “I guess I don't mind being a flight risk if that's the precautions we have to take."

The hold you had on her arms slid slowly down the skin of her arms, igniting bursts of warmth in your wake, all the way down to her hands that you now grasped. She was quick to slot her fingers between yours, adding a level of intimacy to the moment that made your heart skip a beat.

“Can’t have Indiana’s big winner tripping just like that into the wrong girl next time,” you stole one of your hands back to adjust the pre-wrap that was slightly askew. Caitlin held her breath as you got so close, internally scoffing at the insinuation of falling for anyone else.

Her shoulders shrugged, a sluggish posture taking over once the recent loss came back to mind, “I wasn’t much of a winner tonight.” Her hands squeezed yours as if it was a natural reflex, a certain air of familiarity that had been going unsaid for quite a while now.

“You don’t think,” you paused with hesitation but continued with a small glance at Caitlin’s lips with a confidence that only her touch was fueling, “there’s anything else you can win tonight?”

And though you hadn’t been certain before, nothing could hide the way she glanced at yours in return, “I can think of a few things.” The softness of her voice had a hesitance, a fear of breaking the moment you two had been building to for months now.

You gently slid your free hand up to her cheek, with no further guidance as she practically pounced on you. Her lips moved harmoniously with yours as her free hand applied pressure against the arch of your back so the only thing you could feel was her.

Another win for her, just not in basketball.

[starkidmunson]

damned if i do (give a damn what people say)

It seems Steve Harrington is back off the market

The latest news on the pop star’s love life comes mere weeks after word of a fallout with longtime beau, journalist Nancy Wheeler. While neither party has confirmed the rumors, many of Harrington’s closest friends have hinted at the end of the relationship in interviews and on social media.

One thing everyone failed to mention, however, is that Harrington appears to have moved on and is now dating Corroded Coffin front-man, Eddie Munson.

The two have been friends for years, tracing as far back as the early 2010s, though it’s difficult to put a pin in exactly when they met. Neither are particularly vocal about their personal lives and often change the subject when the other comes up in an interview; a diversion tactic they’ve been playing for years.

Still, the alleged new couple has been spotted around some of Harrington’s favorite Manhattan hot spots several times over the past week.

The rockstar has a bit of an edgier vibe than Harrington’s usual flings; more outspoken and unpredictable than the ‘type’ Steve has typically shown an interest in; at least publicly.

Only time will tell if “Steddie” (so dubbed by the fans in support of the relationship) is true… and if they’ll last.

_____

“I can’t believe they think I’m dating Eddie,” Steve grumbled into the pillow on the floor of his hotel room. With a huff, he turned his head and looked off to the wall on the far side of the room. “I mean, it’s crazy that I can’t go out to dinner with anyone besides you and not be on a date.”

Robin leveled her foot to the center of his back, before shifting her weight onto it, then grinned in satisfaction as Steve groaned and his back popped loudly in several places. “It’s not like it’s that surprising. The tabloids went feral over you and Nancy breaking up after they were convinced you guys were already secretly married.” She shifted her weight back off him, dropping to sit cross-legged beside Steve. “Plus, it’s not that much of a stretch.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asked, pushing himself up until he was sitting with his back against the wall, leg stretched out against Robin’s.

“It means you two have never looked at each other the way friends do. It makes sense that they’re picking that up.” Robin shrugged, brushing off her comment like it wasn’t shattering part of Steve’s bubble.

“We look at each other totally normally!”

The look Robin leveled Steve with had him pushing himself up off the floor and making his way toward the bathroom.

“I don’t have time for this right now, I need to start getting ready, but we don’t do anything normal friends wouldn’t because that’s what we are, Robin!”

“Are you trying to convince yourself of that, or me?” Robin asked and sighed heavily when Steve slammed the bathroom door closed in response.

It was only about five minutes before there was a familiar knock at the door; three in quick succession, followed by two after a short pause.

“I think we need to talk, sweetheart,” was understandable, despite being muffled by the door, before Steve was racing out of the bathroom to beat Robin to undoing the locks and letting Eddie in. “Why didn’t you tell me we’re dating?” Eddie asked through a pout, leaned against the doorframe.

Steve rolled his eyes and moved out of the way, letting Eddie follow him inside, before pointing at Robin. “See! Very much not dating!”

“Well,” Eddie started, teasingly, only to get hit in the face with a pillow from Steve’s bed. “I’m kidding, Steve. It’s not even a bad thing. I mean, they’re actually being really fucking cool about you being bisexual.”

“Being out as bi doesn’t mean that every person, regardless of their gender, is automatically my love interest just because I breathed near them.” Steve snapped, obviously frustrated despite Eddie’s attempts to ease the situation.

“Hey. Don’t get mean. You know what’s not what Eddie meant.” Robin responded. Steve looked back and forth between the two of them for a long moment, before he collapsed, face first, onto his mattress with a loud groan.

“C’mon, there’s no need to meltdown over this. If you want me to, I can post something about catching up with old friends to try to make it go away.” Eddie offered, gently, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed from Steve.

It took a long beat, but Steve eventually lifted his head from his pillows and shrugged. “I don’t want to make you do anything like that. It’s fine. It’ll all work out in the end. I'm just having a weird day, I guess.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, and when Steve didn’t elaborate, he turned his head to Robin, who shrugged.

“Nancy texted him this morning asking to not talk about her at shows and he’s been in a sour mood about it since.”

“Robin!” Steve groaned, pressing his face back into his pillow miserably.

“Have you been, though?” Eddie asked, confused. “Talking about her, I mean? I thought I was doing a decent job at getting the highlights and I have no memory of you dropping anything profound about you and Nance on any crowds.”

“Not directly,” Steve spoke into his pillow, before turning his head and staring at the wall as he answered. “I made a few comments about my songs. How to get someone back. How to gaslight someone into thinking you love them before letting everything go at the drop of a hat for one of your best friends.”

A silence settled over the room for a moment, before Eddie burst into giggles, which set Robin off. Eventually Steve joined in, turning his attention to the two of them with a heavy sigh.

“I guess I was an asshole about it, huh?”

“I think it’s justifiable.” Eddie offered, to which Robin nodded in agreement as she started toying with Steve’s hair. “If you feel like you’re going to say something about Nancy, you could always say something to me instead. Really confuse the shit out of everyone.” He teased, but Steve beamed.

“Wait, that’s actually a great idea.”

Robin looked apprehensive, holding her hands in the air. “Steve, you remember you just freaked out about this, right? And now you’re going to play into it? Publicly?”

“It’ll be fun. I’m not gonna say anything directly about Eddie. But just. References. And then we can watch the fans lose their shit on TikTok later.” Steve reasoned with a grin, and Eddie smiled back at him.

“I promise to spend the entire show dancing my ass off and singing along. For the bit.” Eddie said, his hand over his heart.

“You do that anyway, you’re just usually backstage.” Robin pointed out, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Well, obviously, I have to join you and Dustin in the family tent tonight. Duh.”

“Yes!” Steve agreed with a laugh. “This is going to be so much fun!”

“You’re both psychotic.”

_____

“Indianapolis, you're making me feel awfully special tonight.” Steve bit at his lip as he looked around Lucas Oil Stadium to thousands of people screaming back at him. “This is as close to a hometown show as I really get these days, so thank you for always making sure to remind me how special of a place home is.”

The music started to pick up again, but Steve kept talking. “I kind of spent the last few years coasting by without anyone paying too much attention, but now that I’m back on the road, everyone’s suddenly deeply invested in my life, and it's strange to be back so close to somewhere I called home for so long, in the same position I was in five years ago.” He ran his fingers through his hair, before huffing out a laugh.

“But you guys, you've always been there. Unwavering in a way I will never be able to express my gratitude for.” he paused to glance around the crowd again, grinning as they cheered. “Not many people can say the same, you know?”

“Where is he going with this?” Dustin asked, leaning close to Robin, who shrugged, trying not to have a visible reaction. There were always cameras on them in public like this. Any reaction would be taken out of context and exaggerated.

“Did you see the tabloid rumors about Eddie and Steve?” She replied, and couldn’t help but smile as Dustin’s head whipped back forward to Steve.

“I mean, there’s Robbie, the kids I used to babysit. And, uh…” he trailed off, which Eddie took as his cue to move to the front of the family tent. “Maybe someone else. This one's for you.” Steve said, leaving the “you” ambiguous enough to be open for interpretation.

Eddie, hamming it up, made a heart with his hands, before immediately starting to headbang along to the love song next in the setlist.

_____

In a surprising twist, Dustin managed to wait until the security team had moved them out of the crowd and behind the stage with the crew nearly two hours later before his outburst.

“What the fuck?!” He asked as soon as the were away from the crowd. “Why are you two playing into this? It’s just going to get more headlines and attention on the two of you, which neither of you usually like!”

“But it’s different if it’s on our terms.” Eddie responded, not even looking up from his phone as he answered Dustin.

“Is it, though? Is it really on your terms if it’s not even true?” Dustin sounded exasperated, and while Robin could relate, she was planning on sitting this one out until Eddie shoved his phone into her face.

“It’s already on TikTok. 4 videos in.” He said with a grin as Robin watched Eddie make a hand heart toward the stage before his hair started flopping all over as he sang along. The clip was captioned “steddie is real!!!”

“So you’re proud you’re deceiving fans?” She asked, which made Eddie’s grin fall.

“Don't be so dramatic,” Steve called as he approached from the stage exit. He was covered in sweat and still in his performance clothes, holding a half empty water bottle. “It’s all in good fun. They never need to know if it was real or not.”

“I think you’re downplaying this by a lot. What happens the next time one of you is seen out on a date?” Dustin pressed, and continued despite the way Steve rolled his eyes. “I mean it, an honest to god date. People are going to lose their minds, trying to figure out what broke up Steve and Eddie, when you were never even together in the first place! They’ll turn you against each other, they always do. And if you weren’t dating, isn’t that just as bad of a look?”

“Woah. Henderson. Chill. It’ll be fine, man. You’re WAY overthinking this.” Eddie said, before he grinned at Steve. “Could you see my hand heart from the stage?”

“I could. Did you catch the wink I sent your way at the end of the song?”

“I did, nice touch! I patted my hand over my heart, so maybe that’ll end up on social, too.”

“I’m going to throw myself into the White River.” Dustin groans loudly, to a round of laughs and elbow nudges.

_____

Steve could pinpoint the exact moment things finally felt out of hand two weeks later.

He was getting ready for the show that will wrap up his first weekend at his “home away from home” in 5 years when Eddie texted him about being late to that night’s show.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

Eddie had missed the last two shows in Chicago

It shouldn’t matter.

Eddie’d been there, religiously, at the 4 shows before Chicago on the tour, and 6 others before that when his band wasn’t playing their own concerts. Steve even made 3 trips of his own to Corroded Coffin shows, around his own obligations.

But it still made him frown at his phone for a moment too long. Long enough Robin caught him.

“More headlines about Steddie?” She asked, slipping the phone from his hands before he could stop her. When she read over the message, though, her expression softened. “Oh, Steve, I’m sorry.”

“It’s no big deal.” Steve rushed out, snatching his phone back and shoving it into his pocket. “It’s fine. I’m not upset, there’s no reason to feel sorry. Besides, he just said he’ll be late, he didn’t say he isn’t coming.”

“Would you be upset if he wasn’t coming, then?” Robin asked. Steve glared daggers at her, and sighed when she held her hands in the air, feigning innocence.

“I don’t know.” He mumbled, honestly.

___

The intro tape was just about to start as Steve was making his usual trek toward his starting point, when he heard someone running and calling his name from behind him, rather than out in the crowd. He paused and turned, to see Eddie rushing toward him.

“I’m so sorry, I just wanted you to see that I made it before you went on!” He was out of breath, his hair more wild from running than usual, and Steve…

Well, frankly, Steve was tired of pretending like Eddie wasn’t the hottest person he’d ever seen.

So Steve met Eddie halfway, threw his arms around his neck and pressed their lips together in a move Eddie seemed to have anticipated because he wasted no time returning the favor.

It was only Steve’s cue music that had him breaking away, biting at his lip and grinning at Eddie, who grinned back at him, before using the hands he’d placed on Steve’s waist at some point in the interaction to turn Steve toward the stage.

“Go, before you miss the start of your own show, superstar. I’ll still be here after.” Eddie said.

“Promise?” Steve called over his shoulder as he made his way toward the stage’s catwalk.

“Cross my heart, big boy.” Eddie drew an x over his heart for dramatic effect, then laughed and ran his fingers through his hair as he watched Steve run to make it to his place on time.

[mariacallous]

The first thing to say about the hate and scorn currently directed at the mainstream US media is that they worked hard to earn it. They’ve done so by failing, repeatedly, determinedly, spectacularly to do their job, which is to maintain their independence, inform the electorate, and speak truth to power. While the left has long had reasons to dismiss centrist media, and the right has loathed it most when it did do its job well, the moderates who are furious at it now seem to be something new – and a host of former editors, media experts and independent journalists have been going after them hard this summer.

Longtime journalist James Fallows declares that three institutions – the Republican party, the supreme court, and the mainstream political press – “have catastrophically failed to ‘meet the moment’ under pressure of [the] Trump era”. Centrist political reformer and columnist Norm Ornstein states that these news institutions “have had no reflection, no willingness to think through how irresponsible and reckless so much of our mainstream press and so many of our journalists have been and continue to be”.

Most voters, he says, “have no clue what a second Trump term would actually be like. Instead, we get the same insipid focus on the horse race and the polls, while normalizing abnormal behavior and treating this like a typical presidential election, not one that is an existential threat to democracy.”

Lamenting the state of the media recently on X, Jeff Jarvis, another former editor and newspaper columnist, said: “What ‘press’? The broken and vindictive Times? The newly Murdochian Post? Hedge-fund newspaper husks? Rudderless CNN or NPR? Murdoch’s fascist media?”

These critics are responding to how the behemoths of the industry seem intent on bending the facts to fit their frameworks and agendas. In pursuit of clickbait content centered on conflicts and personalities, they follow each other into informational stampedes and confirmation bubbles.

They pursue the appearance of fairness and balance by treating the true and the false, the normal and the outrageous, as equally valid and by normalizing Republicans, especially Donald Trump, whose gibberish gets translated into English and whose past crimes and present-day lies and threats get glossed over. They neglect, again and again, important stories with real consequences. This is not entirely new – in a scathing analysis of 2016 election coverage, the Columbia Journalism Review noted that “in just six days, The New York Times ran as many cover stories about Hillary Clinton’s emails as they did about all policy issues combined in the 69 days leading up to the election” – but it’s gotten worse, and a lot of insiders have gotten sick of it.

In July, ordinary people on social media decided to share information about the rightwing Project 2025 and did a superb job of raising public awareness about it, while the press obsessed about Joe Biden’s age and health. NBC did report on this grassroots education effort, but did so using the “both sides are equally valid” framework often deployed by mainstream media, saying the agenda is “championed by some creators as a guide to less government oversight and slammed by others as a road map to an authoritarian takeover of America”. There is no valid case it brings less government oversight.

In an even more outrageous case, the New York Times ran a story comparing the Democratic and Republican plans to increase the housing supply – which treated Trump’s plans for mass deportation of undocumented immigrants as just another housing-supply strategy that might work or might not. (That it would create massive human rights violations and likely lead to huge civil disturbances was one overlooked factor, though the fact that some of these immigrants are key to the building trades was mentioned.)

Other stories of pressing concern are either picked up and dropped or just neglected overall, as with Trump’s threats to dismantle a huge portion of the climate legislation that is both the Biden administration’s signal achievement and crucial for the fate of the planet. The Washington Post editorial board did offer this risibly feeble critique on 17 August: “It would no doubt be better for the climate if the US president acknowledged the reality of global warming – rather than calling it a scam, as Mr Trump has.”

While the press blamed Biden for failing to communicate his achievements, which is part of his job, it’s their whole job to do so. The Climate Jobs National Resource Center reports that the Inflation Reduction Act has created “a combined potential of over $2tn in investment, 1,091,966 megawatts of clean power, and approximately 3,947,670 jobs”, but few Americans have any sense of what the bill has achieved or even that the economy is by many measures strong.

Last winter, the New York Times columnist Paul Krugman, who has a Nobel prize in economics, told Greg Sargent on the latter’s Daily Blast podcast that when he writes positive pieces about the Biden economy, his editor asks “don’t you want to qualify” it; “aren’t people upset by X, Y and Z and shouldn’t you be acknowledging that?”

Meanwhile in an accusatory piece about Kamala Harris headlined When your opponent calls you ‘communist,’ maybe don’t propose price controls?, a Washington Post columnist declares in another case of bothsiderism: “Voters want to blame someone for high grocery bills, and the presidential candidates have apparently decided the choices are either the Biden administration or corporate greed. Harris has chosen the latter.” The evidence that corporations have jacked up prices and are reaping huge profits is easy to find, but facts don’t matter much in this kind of opining.

It’s hard to gloat over the decline of these dinosaurs of American media, when a free press and a well-informed electorate are both crucial to democracy. The alternatives to the major news outlets simply don’t reach enough readers and listeners, though the non-profit investigative outfit ProPublica and progressive magazines such as the New Republic and Mother Jones, are doing a lot of the best reporting and commentary.

Earlier this year, when Alabama senator Katie Britt gave her loopy rebuttal to Biden’s State of the Union address, it was an independent journalist, Jonathan Katz, who broke the story on TikTok that her claims about a victim of sex trafficking contained significant falsehoods. The big news outlets picked up the scoop from him, making me wonder what their staffs of hundreds were doing that night.

A host of brilliant journalists young and old, have started independent newsletters, covering tech, the state of the media, politics, climate, reproductive rights and virtually everything else, but their reach is too modest to make them a replacement for the big newspapers and networks. The great exception might be historian Heather Cox Richardson, whose newsletter and Facebook followers give her a readership not much smaller than that of the Washington Post. The tremendous success of her sober, historically grounded (and footnoted!) news summaries and reflections bespeaks a hunger for real news.

[honeytonedhottie]

how to keep a dolly mind⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🧁

this post is inspired by @arielleslipgloss's post about dolly mindset and i just wanna make my own post about keeping a doll mindset so i hope that u enjoy…💬🎀

WHATS IN UR MIND ;

whats in ur mind manifests. what u think consistently everyday is what u will experience, thats just how the brain works. so if ur thinking positive thoughts, you'll experience positive things but the same is true if u think negative thoughts.

BE POSITIVE ;

affirm. affirm. affirm. if u dont want to experience it, then dont dwell on it. when u spend so much time dwelling on negativity you'll only perpetuate that into ur reality so can we not? be POSITIVE and dwell only on things that u want to manifest and experience.

DONT THINK TOO MUCH ;

with that being said, DONT THINK TOO MUCH. sometimes its good to get out of ur own head and just affirm positively on autopilot. dont spend so much time pondering things that upset you. ofc its important to ponder things that you struggle with because thats how u overcome them, but if u dwell on them too much you'll only perpetuate it. make ur mind a good place to be. dont worry about a thing ♡

dont give others the power to make u uncomfortable in ur own mind. dont dwell on other people's negative opinions or criticism, dont be consumed by a situationship. the center of ur universe should be you, you and YOU.

HOW TO MAKE UR OWN DOLLHOUSE (IN UR MIND) ;

this section is inspired by something that i read about in the book pyscho cybernetics and essentially the idea is that u create a space in ur mind that is completely and wholly yours. a place that u can go when u need a breather and i though it was just ADORABLE.

so create ur own dollhouse in ur mind. how i did this was i focused on my 5 senses and i imagined myself creating a space for myself. once i was done imagining it, i imagined myself walking into it and just relaxing in it.

♡ i imagine a cute room (pretty large) with baby pink wallpaper

♡ i imagine a balcony with fresh flowers and a cute pink chair

♡ pink drapes DUH

♡ plush couches with leopard print throw pillows and cashmere blankets

♡ very 90's hollywood mansion inspired with cute dolly music playing softly in the background

and whenever i want to i just imagine myself walking into this space and relaxing on the couch. painting my nails, doing a face mask or just talking to myself and its so soothing…💬🎀

WHAT SHOULD CONSUME UR THOUGHTS ;

♡ shopping

♡ glitter

♡ self pampering

♡ your education

♡ YOUR FUTURE (the most important one btw)

♡ urself and ur future

WHAT SHOULDN'T CONSUME UR THOUGHTS ;

♡ toxicity from any source (bad friends, social media etc)

♡ the past

♡ jealousy

♡ and anything that u DONT want to manifest

THINGS THAT CAN HELP UR MIND ;

if u find it particularly difficult to stay positive or ur just going through a hard time, first of all know that ur NOT alone and things will always get better 💗 some things that can help ur state of mind can include ->

getting a full 8-10 hours of sleep every night, staying hydrated and eating a balanced diet, getting sunlight and fresh air everyday, journalling and other forms of self expression. and to finish off this post i wanna leave u guys with some dolly affirmations to live ur best dolly life 💗

🧁 i am so flawless from head to toe

🎀 i am absolutely in love with myself, and why WOULDN'T i be?

🧁 i manifest instantly

🎀 i am more than capable of anything that i want to do

🧁 i am gorgeous on the inside and on the outside

🎀 im just SUCH a ray of sunshine and beauty to everything and everyone

[requiemforthepoets]

i want to be with you everywhere 𖦹 OP81

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: you, big crowded places, and bad sense of directions are always a never good mix.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: another draft i found lol this was inspired by real events lmfao hope you enjoy this blurb! :)

REMINDER: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect to the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 830

WARNINGS: typos and inaccuracies

You and Oscar were the quintessential couple in the paddock. Oscar’s calm demeanor perfectly complemented your vibrant nature. However, there’s one thing about you that makes your life more interesting—your notoriously bad sense of direction. You don’t know how or why you’re bad at directions, at this point, it can be a blessing or a curse, depending on the situation. Your bad sense of direction can also be a good laugh for your friends and had also become a running inside joke in your family.

“Oscar, babe, I swear I thought the media center was this way!” You exclaimed, looking at your phone map, which seemed to be leading you in circles around the paddock.

Oscar chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You’re adorable, you know that? But we’ve passed that same coffee stand three times now.” He pointed at the stand, causing you to pout, with cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I just…I’m really bad at this.”

“I know, and it’s one of the many things I love about you,” Oscar said, pressing a kiss on your temple. “Which is why I’ve come up with a little solution that can help us.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a little device. Which you had recognized instantly from the logo that is printed on it—it was an apple airtag, and handing to you with a grin. Grabbing it, you looked up at him, a bit puzzled.

“What’s this for?”

“Every time we go to a race or anywhere unfamiliar, I’m going to clip this onto your bag or slip it into your pocket,” he explained, smiling. “That way, if you get lost, I can always find you easily.” You laughed, eyes twinkling with amusement. A bit touched as well with his little gesture.

“You’re really going to track me like a wayward puppy?”

“Exactly,” Oscar said, his eyes full of affection. “Consider it a modern-day love token.”

The next race was held in Monza, and true to his word, Oscar has managed to discreetly attached the airtag on your bag before you left the hotel. As you both navigated through the bustling crowd, you felt more at ease knowing Oscar had your back, literally.

You began having the itch to venture out, the need for a coffee fix and grab a coffee as well for Oscar. Walking out confidently, you had managed to convince yourself that you perfectly knew the way like the back of hand, but you had spoke to soon. You had found yourself in a maze of unfamiliar trailers and motorhomes, panic was slowly creeping up on you. But you were able to remember the airtag.

Fishing your phone out of your pocket, you quickly open the Find My app, seeing Oscar’s dot not far from you, and sending him a quick message:

osco 🫶🏻 [2:45 PM] : lost again. can you please come find me?

Not a minute later, Oscar appeared around the corner, a wide grin sporting on his face.

“You found a way to use the airtag already, huh?” You sighed in relief, running up to him and wrapping your arms around his waist. “I did. Thank you for this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Oscar hugged you back, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “At this rate, you’d probably end up in the Red Bull garage trying to convince them you’re a McLaren fan.” You giggled, swatting his chest playfully. “Hey! I’m not that bad.” You pouted, causing him to coo at your cuteness and pecking your lips softly.

“Oh, really? Remember last week when you ended up in the Ferrari hospitality trying to ‘borrow’ their wifi?” Oscar laughed and your eyes widened. “In my defense, their coffee was fantastic.”

He shook his head, still laughing. “Well, this time, you got lost trying to get coffee from the McLaren team’s designated stand. You were so far off, you almost ended up in the pit lane.” Your eyes immediately sparkled with mischievousness. “It’s not my fault their coffee stations look like they’re in a maze.”

“Well, here’s a pro tip,” Oscar said, guiding you back towards the seats. “Next time you’re lost, just look for the airtag beacon or, you know, follow the scent of freshly brewed coffee works perfectly too.”

As you both made your way back towards the McLaren motorhome, you playfully pretended to get lost again, dramatically scanning the area and calling out, “Oscar! Where are you?” This silly action had made him laugh and grabbed your hand. “I’m right here, love. Even if you did get lost every time, I’d be happy to find you. Besides, it has become my favorite side quest.”

“And I’ll gladly always let you find me.” You smiled, heart swelling with love.

The airtag had pretty much became a staple in your relationship. No matter where the races took you, you knew that you have your personal navigator, and Oscar knew he had someone worth finding every single time

[satellitebroadcast]

Israeli troops are torturing Palestinians from Gaza, including through the use of electric shocks and anal rape using M-16 rifle butts, according to the testimony of a Palestinian medic published by Human Rights Watch (HRW) on 27 August.

Walid Khalili, a Palestinian paramedic and ambulance driver, was abducted by Israeli soldiers in Gaza in November and taken to the Sde Teiman and Negev (Al-Naqab) detention centers in Israel.

Israeli troops abducted Khalili after he was dispatched to the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood of Gaza City to rescue four wounded men.

When he arrived, he saw Israeli troops execute the men on Mughrabi Street, near the Labor Ministry building. “I saw the four men being executed in cold blood,” Khalili said. “I saw it with my own eyes, I was three meters away. When they were shot, I hid under the ambulance, and next to it there was a building, so then I ran inside the building. The Israeli forces raided the building and started yelling at me to raise my hands.”

Soldiers kicked and beat Khalili with their rifle butts, breaking his ribs, before transferring him to the Sde Teiman facility in southern Israel.

HRW writes that Israeli soldiers dragged him on the ground, removed the cuffs on his ankles, and dressed him in adult diapers. They then took him to a warehouse where dozens of detainees, also in diapers, were suspended from the ceiling, with the chains attached to their square metal handcuffs.

Khalili said he was suspended from a chain so his feet would not touch the ground. The soldiers dressed him in a garment and a headband attached to wires. They shocked him with electricity and threw cold water on him every second day.

He told HRW, “The world was spinning around, and I fainted. They hit me with batons. I kept fainting and hallucinating. He kept asking me about the hostages, and moving Hamas hostages, and where I was on October 7. With every question I was electro-shocked to wake me up. He told me confess and we will stop torturing you.”

Every three days, he was taken to a new location and given an unknown drug in pill form before being interrogated further. “The pill made me feel weird, it was the first time I have felt like this, as if my inner mind was speaking what was in my heart, not me. I felt like I’m flying. I saw hallucinations.”

An Arabic-speaking Israeli guard interrogated him, asking him about the captives taken by Hamas to Gaza on 7 October. Khalili said the interrogator knew “how many children I have, all their names, my address,” and threatened they would be killed if he did not confess.

Khalili was later taken to the Negev base in southern Israel. He was held there with another Palestinian detainee from Gaza who was visibly “bleeding from his bottom.” The man told Khalili how “three soldiers took turns raping him with an M16 [assault rifle]” before he was brought to the detention center. “He was terrified. His mental health was awful, he started talking to himself,” Khalili said.

The sexual assault of Palestinian detainees gained media attention in Israel after five soldiers were detained earlier this month after raping a Palestinian man with a cell phone in Sde Teiman. CCTV video of the rape was also published by Israeli Channel 12.