#Like it means so much to me because like. This game means so much to me! No joke!!

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.12 how you get the girl

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 12/x (probably 18)

ᰔ words. 11.3k

a/n. man the color scheme for this chapter is kinda giving BRAT lolol...i mean gojo IS brat. anywho, i don't have much to say at the beginning of this chapter but i do have a LOT to say at the end of it sooo see y'all at the bottom!! hope u enjoy. also BIG THANK YOU to @whereflowerswenttodie who beta read parts of this chapter for me n convinced me not to scrap it lol

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1 :: ♬.*ﾟplaylist

11:03am you: hi! 11:03am you: good luck today 11:03am you: incase i don’t see you

11:05am Gojo Satoru: Why wouldn’t you? Aren’t you gonna be on the field for your newsletter shots?

11:07am you: i mean yes but idk where i’m gonna be stationed so 11:07am you: it might not be on UTokyo’s side of the field

11:08am Gojo Satoru: Okay then I’ll look for you before the game starts

11:10am you: no pls don’t. coach yaga thinks i distract you. i don’t want to get yelled at again. he scares me :(

11:12am Gojo Satoru: Haha you’re silly 11:13am Gojo Satoru: East side entrance at 2 11:13am Gojo Satoru: Be there

11:14am you: or be square?

11:15am Gojo Satoru: Yea whatever shape you wanna be in is fine cutie

It’s a bright sunny day outside, perfectly blue sky with a scattering of fluffy clouds seen outside the window of your shared room in your apartment, and you realize spring is fully here from the way birds chirp past the glass. You’re stuffing your camera case full of chilled Kodak film rolls, your last stash left, and it’s the last piece of equipment you pack before slinging the strap over your shoulder and heading out the door.

Mina had offered to give you a ride to the stadium since your car’s still at the shop, but you’re happy you opted for the bumpy bus ride and although you come close to low-grade concussions from the bang of your head to the window at every other speed bump, the music in your ears while someone else is operating a public transport vehicle helps you think creatively before shooting shots.

It was surprise enough that Mina of all people was going to this game, and when you questioned her about it in the morning, she looked at you like you were absurd to assume anyone from UTokyo wouldn’t be at this game, and sure enough, it’s all anyone on Instagram has been repping on their stories or talking about in the bustling minutes before lectures. Even Utahime was going to this game, and she hates all intercollegiate sports. You knew the game was a big deal, given the way Coach Yaga was yelled at via email by the Dean of UTokyo to make sure the team wins today because a multimillion dollar Nike sponsorship would be greenlit by the prospect (for some reason you were cc’d in an email chain among divisional higher-ups, but you weren’t opposed to snooping in on conversations that were entirely outside of your tax bracket).

It’s because it’s the second to last home game before the season ends, and apparently this has been statistically the best season the UTokyo D1 Men’s Soccer team has played since the new millenia. No pressure to the players on that fact, but failure wasn’t much of an option for them anymore. 

And you can feel the stakes the second you step inside the stadium. Packed would be an understatement, there were people flooding the aisles, overbooked for the sake of the university pocketing an extra buck no doubt, but spectators could care less since they were able to at least get in on the basis of that irresponsibility in the first place, despite the stadium’s capacity having long been reached before the pregame festivities even start. Banners and signs drape over railings with the school’s striking blue and golden colors, every single replay screen is lit up and brightly pixelated at every north, south, east, and west entrance for inclusive viewing. As you pass VIP security and make it into the lower field-level entry, the scattered chants from the crowd amplify in volume and you almost wince a little to yourself from the noise. The stadium felt like a living, breathing entity, pulsing with the collective heartbeat of everyone inside. 

You’ve never been more overstimulated in your life, except instead of finding it frightening, it was electrifying. And for once, you think you can understand what an athlete must feel when playing on their own home turf surrounded by those that are wholeheartedly rooting for them.

Hana is quick to spot you, panic clear across her face as she regards you with a couple pages with your assigned vantage points, a rushed briefing session, and then she’s darting down the sidelines to make sure equipment is set up appropriately where needed. She’s understaffed, given you told Utahime about Kai’s little intervention last week and she made a nasty point to the university (and possibly a handful of legal threats) and they relented in firing him. So now the three of you were down a photographer, and the extra work shows in the instructions she gave you as you skim the sheets. 

A glance at your phone tells you it’s close to 2pm, and your eyes take in the expanse of green on the field. UTokyo’s players practice kicking shots off to the right goal post, while YCU’s players practice shots off to the left. You can’t spot where Gojo is, but you faithfully head down to the East Side entrance like he asked you to. 

When you round the corner, you almost crash right into an Ichiko mascot, but swiftly dodge, and then you stop in your tracks when you see Gojo standing right at the concrete entrance. He’s leaning back against the adjacent wall, arms crossed at his chest, and he’s stretching his neck side to side with a creased brow, an intense look in his eyes, lost in serious thought, scanning the wall across from him like he’s mapping out plays in his head. 

When you approach him and catch the corner of his eyesight, he leans off the wall and flashes you one of his so extremely charmed to see you grins on reflex, and suddenly there’s nothing your senses seem to pick up on except him. Like everything else around you just disappears.

“Hey, you,” he says when he comes up to you, and you walk him like a dog back to a corner that’s tucked further away from noises and sights. You lean your back against the wall now, the coolness of concrete seeping through the fabric of your shirt, and he stands a step in front of you. Your hands toy with the strap of your camera.

“Are you ready to win today?” you ask him, and look off to the right into the flourishing seats that are still being filled to the brim, “clearly there’s no pressure.”

He breathes in deep, and releases it slowly, like there really was tension to relieve. “We’ve got no choice but to win.”

“Is that something Coach Yaga says to you guys often?” you ask him, because the man recited the same thing about five times in that email chain. “Also, apparently you take years off of his life.” Another thing he recited about five times in that email chain.

Gojo only addresses what he wants to address, as per usual. “Yeah, it’s something he says to us often.” 

“So,” you say, “what did you want to talk about?”

He looks at you puzzled, tilting his head to the side. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

It’s hard to assume that he didn’t have something to talk about with the intention of telling you to meet him here, because this is the same place you confessed to him a few weeks ago, and so is also the place he so painfully rejected you. But maybe he doesn’t think about these kinds of things as much as you do. “I see.”

His tongue pokes to his cheek as he studies your anticipating expression, and then he sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. “What are we doing? I mean, I like you, and you like me too, at least I hope you still do. Why don’t we—…why don’t we just give it a go already? I don’t see how we can move forward if you won’t at least let me take you out on a date.”

Your hands stop fidgeting with your camera strap from his words, and you lick your lips, suddenly unable to keep eye contact with him so your gaze drifts down to his chest in front of you. His uniform is clean, no smudges of dirt or grass, just pure white fabric underneath heat-pressed blue and golden accents, and of course, that signature number 10. You’re sure he’s all you’ll ever think of when you see that number now for the rest of your life. 

You know when you want something so bad you don’t know what to do once you have it? Because it almost seems too good to be true? 

“I just wanted to let stuff between us breathe for a little bit,” you confess, “it’s just, it was a lot to deal with. Being around you when I thought you didn’t want me the way I wanted you. I don’t know if this is odd to say, and maybe I’m overthinking it, but I just feel like somewhere along the way, I kind of…forgot who you were for a little bit.” This kind of vulnerability would have you running away with your tail between your legs with anyone else, but not with him. Not after everything. 

His expression softens, melting away that confrontational energy he had earlier, and he nods slowly. He opens his mouth to speak, but he can’t seem to find words. The presence of them is there, though, you can feel them. But what good are his thoughts if not voiced? 

“I just wanted to spend a little bit of time getting to know you again, I guess.” You squeeze your arm in reassurance of yourself because he wasn’t giving it to you. You let out an awkward laugh. “I don’t really know what I’m saying right now, to be honest.”

You can tell he’s at a crossroads, and you think back to this week and his efforts to get you to open up to him again. You know how he feels right now, because it’s exactly how you felt when he rejected you. Like when someone is so close, yet so far, you can feel that they’re within arms reach but never truly. And they’re slipping away for some reason that you may never know, but all you can do is assume that it’s a fault of your own. You’re not really sure what he can do to make you feel secure about this whole thing anymore, and you can see the slight panic in his eyes when he realizes that too.

“I don’t mind waiting,” he tells you, rushed with a desperation entirely contrary to his words, “what’s a week or two when I want to spend a lot more of those with you anyways.” But he takes a deep breath, like he’s already mentally preparing himself for an agonizing wait in his head.

There’s a sound over the stadium speakers, something technical and sporty and goes entirely over your head in dismissal, but to Gojo it seems to have a different effect, as he’s suddenly attentive and stands up straighter, that focused expression on his face from earlier resurfacing. You realize he needs to get back to the field. 

“Can we continue this conversation after the game?” he asks you hastily, already turning towards the center of the stadium. And he adds an obligatory, “sorry.”

“Yeah, sure,” you quickly agree, suddenly feeling like you’re taking up his time. 

He gives you a small smile, unsure in its presentation but pure in its intention. But he can only take one step towards the field before you reach out and pinch the fabric of his jersey to keep him still. He feels the tug of it and fully faces you once again. 

“Um. Just a sec,” you say, “I have something to give you before your game.”

“Oh?” he looks at you with interest, “I fucking love things.” 

“You have to close your eyes though.”

“…what is the thing…” He squints at you with a what are you up to expression.

“Just close your eyes!” you snap at him.

“Okay, okay, jeez,” he holds his hands up in front of him in surrender, shaking his head to get his hair out of his face and then he closes his eyes. “You’re scary as hell sometimes. Excuse me for being cautious.”

You roll your eyes, useless because he doesn’t see it, and then take a step towards him. You cup his jaw with the palm of your hand, his cheek twitching slightly from the unexpected contact, and then you raise on your tiptoes to press your lips to his cheek. It’s short and sweet with the sound of a peck.

“For good luck,” you whisper, then you quickly lower yourself back onto your heels, take a step back and tuck some strands of hair behind your ear. The ground suddenly interests you.

He opens his eyes, blinking a few times with shock and his hand comes up to brush the tips of his fingers against the spot you kissed him, and then his gaze goes comically dazed when he reaches out to hold you. “Alright, c’mere you,” he says, closing his eyes and puckering his lips as he leans down to kiss you but you laugh and push his face away.

“No no no, only on the cheek for now,” you say with a small laugh.

He does nothing to restrain his frustrated groan. “You can’t do something that cute and then expect me to be chill about it.”

“If you win, then, maybe I’ll let you kiss me for real.”

“Maybe?”

“Yes. Maybe.”

He’s close, towering over you near this bustling east side entrance that he seems to like so much, and his eyes drop to your lips. “Alright. I like those odds.” 

You give him a smile and slip away from him to get back towards the field, and you feel his eyes on you as you walk away.

The pregame events are a blur, with blaring music accompanied by the sounds of the sports announcers clipping across the speakers, finally quieted down in time for the players to line up on the field for the national anthem which was then followed by UTokyo’s alma mater. 

You’re stationed on the same side of the field as Minato, UTokyo’s side, while Hana is covering the sidelines of the opposite end with the opponents goal post. Minato’s filling up a cup of Gatorade for himself at the athlete’s station and then he comes back around to find you.

“Are you ready to take your shots? I see Hana wanted you to shoot on film today,” he says to you as he sloshes around Glacier Freeze in a flimsy plastic cup.

You twist your aperture dial with your thumb. “Yesss, all set. I’ll try to keep up.” 

He nods at you in approval.

The atmosphere feels nerve wracking. Something felt different about this game, the stakes feeling high. Well, of course they’re high, because if they lose today then they’re out of the tournament. But the stakes feel high for other reasons too, an energy you can pick up on but can’t quite discern. 

Your eyes drift across the field where you can see a referee placing a ball at the center of the field. Off to the right, you can see Gojo standing with a few of his other teammates, including Geto, Nanami, and Choso, and they’re all gesticulating to various corners of the field as they discuss what you can only imagine have to do with their plays for today. And you realize— it’s their last college soccer season. Their second-to-last official home match before the championship, and for those of them that haven’t qualified for the national league, it may be their second-to-last match of this caliber for the rest of their lives. One of the final chances that they have to prove something of themselves. The determination was palpable. 

The chief referee’s whistle cuts through the air with three short chirps, and that gathers the attention of all the players on the field. UTokyo wins the coin toss, choosing to kickoff, and YCU’s players choose to attack the left side goal.

Your stomach churns with anticipation, the crowd hushing too as all the players take their places on the field. If you feel nervous, you can only imagine how the athletes feel. There’s a rhythm that you’ve learned over the past couple of months getting to know the sport, where players stretch out their necks and kick out their feet and take subtle deep breaths as they survey the stands. Idle moments before the start of the match where they have no choice but to look forward and only forward, so they take a moment to stay in the present for as long as they can gather. You’ve never been much of a sports spectator, and perhaps you’ve only recently had some personal interest in the team, but you realize you feel pride in your school as you stand behind chalk sideline and see UTokyo’s colors scattered across the field in uniform. And fuck, you wanted them to win. You wanted them to win with fierceness and wrath, and it’s a desire you share with the crowd. 

Gojo spends a minute talking to the referee before the black and white striped man pats him high on the back in the good sport and urges him towards the center of the field. He lifts his foot up onto the ball, rolling it back and forth underneath the spikes of his cleat, and you can see it in his eyes, even from all the way over here, that he seems to have different ideas in mind for this game too. High stakes. Pre-determined, set with will, evident in the clench of his jaw and the concentrated furrow of his brow as he surveys the field with his eyes, and you’re lost in the sight for what feels like forever because you can hardly register the chirp of the ref’s whistle. 

And then the kickoff starts. 

The ball is tapped to Geto to start the play, and the first few minutes were intense as the ball was passed back and forth between UTokyo’s players, placing pressure on YCU’s defense as they inched closer and closer towards the goal. A pass between UTokyo’s #4 was intercepted by YCU and the ball was rushed down towards the left side, the crowd’s horror evident in the uproar as they raise to their feet in fearful anticipation, and with ruthless offense, YCU’s forward takes a clear sink shot towards the goal, and the crowd holds their breath before they watch Choso lunge for it in air, gloved hands firmly grabbing the ball and then pulling it to his chest with a possessiveness you can only expect to see from a skilled goalie, before he crashes down into the ground and the crowd releases relief in the form of rowdy roars.

Ten minutes in, with everyone on their toes, each team tested each other’s defenses. UTokyo were known for stellar offense, especially within the past few years with players like Gojo Satoru and Takuma Ino joining the league as powerful forwards, but UTokyo’s overall offense was still statistically second to none other than YCU. And the pressure YCU was putting on UTokyo’s defense was wearisome to say the least. You glance to see Nanami, who is UTokyo’s best defensive player, huffing and puffing as he stands between two light-footed YCU players in an attempt to guard, and fails an attempt to steal the ball before it gets to the feet of YCU’s striker #6, passed in a split second off to his teammate, with a fake so seamless that it has Choso just a couple inches away from touching the ball before it’s sent flying into the net. 

The noises from the crowd are still loud, but dampened in spirit. 

With the referees hand signal up in the air, the current score is confirmed. 0-1, YCU. 

Coach Yaga calls for a sub, in which he switches Nanami out for who you believe is a 2nd-year defensive player name Yuta you’ve seen around practice with a promising statistical record for interceptions, and you watch as Nanami takes the bench before he swipes the sweat off his face in exhaustion. God. Just fifteen minutes into the match, and YCU already has UTokyo’s defense winded from play. 

You bring your camera up to your face, forgetting for a moment that there was still a job to do here, and you position the direction of the lens towards the center of the field, where Gojo takes his place at the ball once more. Yuta briefly passes by him, signaling some play to him by holding up a number three, likely something Coach Yaga asked him to pass on to Gojo, and you see him briefly nod, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes slowly and pulls his jersey up to wipe at the sweat at his forehead. 

The referee chirps the whistle, Gojo taps the ball to Yuta, and the play starts. 

YCU immediately puts pressure on UTokyo’s offensive play once more, with eager movements to steal the ball, but it’s passed between UTokyo’s players with ease, more practiced and more sure. The kind of play that you and the rest of the school was used to seeing from them. However, Geto loses the ball on a left-back pass, but right when YCU makes attempts to cover field in a long-shot kick towards the left, Yuta intercepts the ball and swiftly passes it to Gojo.

The crowd immediately rises to their feet in anticipation, watching as Gojo shuffles the ball down the field, dangerously close to off-field boundaries, a signature tactic he uses because he knows there’s not a single player in the league that can match him in precision and control to keep the ball in-field on a steal, and he swiftly passes it towards Geto with a side-swept kick, beelining down towards the goal post, in perfect time for Geto pass-back to meet his feet and when Gojo was this close to a net, there was no stopping him. 

He draws his right foot back, and explosively kicks the ball forward, chipping the grass under it in the motion, and it’s sent flying towards the goal, and then threaded past the goalie right to the back of the net. The cheers that erupt across the stadium rumble the ground beneath you. 

1-1, even match.

UTokyo spends no time celebrating, other than a few pats to Gojo’s back as he nods in acknowledgement, no emotion on his face other than pure concentration and greed. The greed to win, like a righteous sin. He stretches his neck out, panting slightly as he takes his place towards the right side of the field and the referee chirps his whistle to signal YCU to start the kickoff.

They quickly make attempts in moving the ball towards their scoring-end of the field, but face push-back from UTokyo’s defense, unable to make it much further past the midfield line, and you bring your camera up to take a snap of Gojo, who you see is still standing off to the right side of the field. But when you position it and peer through the viewfinder, that space he once stood at was empty. You pull your camera down, and blink at the sight, and then the crowd is picking up in volume once more.

Gojo sprints down the flank, cutting past every defender, and moves towards YCU’s attacking goal, which was a shocking place to be for a center forward, but you could feel his desire and determination to steal this back-and-forth ball, and succeeds when YCU makes an open pass, thinking they were in the clear, only to have Gojo sneak in at the last moment and get the ball at his feet. 

The play moves by in a flash, a blur that you or anyone else in the stadium could hardly keep up with it, movements so fast you were shocked a human being was capable of even running that far in such a short amount of time, and in an almost embarrassingly easy play, Gojo makes a fool out of YCU’s defenders as he slips the ball through the legs of his last obstacle before he struck it with sharp precision, sending it soaring to the corner of the goal, past the outstretched arms of the goalie, and into the net. 

2-1, UTokyo.

It was electrifying, the feeling that strikes through the stadium, one that reaches you in your own blood. You’re shocked, standing here, after witnessing Gojo score two goals within the matter of minutes, against one of the top three teams in the league. It’s a shock that reaches everyone, including Coach Yaga who’s standing about ten feet down the line from you, his arms crossed, and you see his eyes for the first time as he takes his sunglasses off to get a better look at what he’s seeing.

You trail his sight, dragging your gaze across the field until it lands at Gojo, who is barely acknowledging the encouraging pats and shakes and goodhearted shoves that his teammates were giving him, because he was focused. It might sound crazy to say, but you swear his eyes looked like a fiercer shade of blue, like they were lit up, and you’re insanely glad you’re not one of YCU’s defensive players at the moment because you feel fearful of him even just standing on the sidelines. 

Your gaze trails back to Coach Yaga, who slowly puts his sunglasses back on but his brows are narrowed tightly as he crosses his arms over his chest tightly.

The “athletic zone”... You’ve heard of it before. A state of pure focus, of peak performance, where an athlete experiences optimal concentration and a sense of effortless control over their actions. In which they perform at their highest level, where time slows down, any and all distractions fade away, and they’re completely immersed in their sport at hand. At the task at hand.

Coach Yaga seems to pick up on the fact that Gojo was on the edge of tapping into that state. 

YCU makes a substitution, and you watch in anticipation as they begin the kickoff. 

There’s fire in their veins with desperation to even out the score once more, rushing the ball down the off-field line, one of their center forwards mimicking Gojo’s signature attack pattern, and Yuta struggles to keep up with the expert dribbling of a fourth-year player with more experience on him, so much so to where he completely leaves the ball unguarded and there’s an open shot, but Geto places pressure at the last moment, in a fierce battle for the ball, before YCU’s center forward loses the ball over the goal line. 

Choso picks the ball up, tapping on it harshly a few times as he surveys his eyes down the field, and all offensive players begin to shuffle towards their attacking goal in anticipation for the goal kick. He signals his hand down and then holds up two fingers in the air before placing the ball down on the six-yard box. He tightens the strap of one of his gloves, eyes squinting, and you follow his gaze down to a part of the field where you note UTokyo’s best aerial players are located and being guarded by YCU’s defense. And with complete trust in his team, that’s exactly where he kicks the ball. 

Geto makes first contact with the ball, his chest colliding with two other YCU players as his head comes out on top and he headbutts the ball closer towards the inner field, and Gojo immediately gains access to it with a bounce of his knee. The crowd holds their breath, fear that they’ll lose the ball to a steal in the split second it spends floating in the air, but Gojo urges it forward with a bounce off of his chest and then rushes it straight down towards the goal post. 

You wonder what sight he sees right now. Where you’re dead center, at no angle, lunging towards the sight of an open goal with a sole goalie standing in the center, anticipating to block your shot, and three defenders on your tail. There’s no room for error, no time to think, only instincts that you cultivate in the last leading milliseconds. They say that, in sports, athletes channel one hundred hours of practice in just a brief second on the field. A split second success that was years in the making. You can’t even imagine possessing that level of perfection in your body, or possessing that level of confidence that you can follow through with it in a moment as dire as this.

It was unreal, the way Gojo fades away from all the defenders, and faces no fear when confronted with the sight of the goalie in front of him while drawing his foot back to kick the ball. You lift your camera up at the last second, no time to think about aperture or ISO, just like he had no time to second-doubt a single twitch in his muscles, and his foot makes contact with the ball so harshly that you can hear the explosive sound even among the delirious cheers from the crowd, before he hook, line, and sinks it straight past the goalie’s head, rushing by like a scarcely deflected bullet, and into the net behind him. 

3-1, UTokyo.

The whole stadium is momentarily speechless, all players and referees and recruiters and reporters and coaches and employees alike, before the most deafening cheers you’ve ever heard in your life scatter across the stands.

There’s a moment of brief reprieve, where the players can catch their breath while YCU makes yet another substitution, as if they’re just trial-and-erroring it at this point, and the cheers in the stadiums remain idle as you can’t tear your gaze away from Gojo.

It’s one of those moments where you realize that someone who you thought was so familiar to you was actually someone you hardly knew at all. You knew he was a talented soccer player, everyone on campus knows it, potentially one of the best to ever grace the league, and the amount of times you passively watched his plays on a lecture hall projector screen as your professor enthusiastically broke them down during class, even before you met him, was good enough for you to realize that he was insane, a one-in-a-million, a talent you cannot replicate, one you have by divinity. One you were born with. 

And yet, somehow, getting to know him these past couple of months, he just felt so human. For someone so seemingly beyond you, he felt so…close? In those moments where it was just the two of you, it was hard to imagine that he was capable of such greatness, and that so many people were rooting for him with wholehearted tears in their eyes and cheers from their hearts, because most of the time, when he was with you, he was just a dorky idiot. You find that your heart is beating fast in your chest, that feeling of being unsure of what to do with what you’ve been wanting resurfacing powerfully. 

“This is insane,” you hear Minato say from beside you and you jump a little from your thoughts being interrupted.

You twiddle with your camera straps. “I know…almost done with the first half and we’re up 3-1…I thought YCU are number one in offense for the league?”

“Oh, yeah, I mean, yes, that is insane too. But what’s even more insane is that three of the goals so far have been scored by one player.” He tips his chin towards the right sight of the field and you trail his line of sight. “By Gojo Satoru.”

Your brow furrows as you watch Gojo, his hands on his hips and his mouth slightly open as he indulges in a few shallow breaths to gain energy while YCU prepares for kickoff. Three goals, by just one player. Your eyes widen when you realize that is insane, especially for a D1 semi-final qualifying match.

“You know what the divisional record is for most goals scored by a single player during a championship match, y/n?” Minato asks you as he lifts his camera up to take a picture of the area Gojo was standing in. 

You shake your head and wait for his response.

He drops his camera down and glances at the photo on his screen. “Four. During Keio Uni vs. Osaka Uni, near the beginning of the tournament back in 1997 by Osaka’s center forward number 24, Yuji Nakazawa. Meaning no one’s managed to beat that record since the new millenia, for a couple decades. Although a few players came close.”

You blink at him, and Minato is jerking his chin over in the direction of Gojo again.

“I think he’s trying to beat the record.”

You can only widen your eyes at Minato in realization, and then the chirp of the referee’s whistle draws everyone’s attention back to the field. 

The sports announcers go wild on the speakers, the crowd raving all the same, standing to their feet like the team just won the championship match.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!! We are watching HISTORY in the making!! Gojo Satoru, UTokyo’s very own 3-year consecutive MVP, has scored his 34th goal of the season, highest of any player in this year’s season so far, and is now on the road to beat the league’s long-standing record for most goals scored by a single player in a championship match since 1997!!” And the crowd roars even louder as you stare out at the field in awe.

YCU starts the kickoff following the prompt short chirp of the referee’s whistle, and with two minutes remaining on the clock for the first half, make desperate attempts to book it down the field towards their attacking goal, one of their midfielders making a clumsy attempt to strike the ball to the net in the final minutes of the half, and Choso easily catches it in his arms, right before the buzzer of the timer sounds, and the match moves into halftime. 

All of UTokyo’s players immediately flock towards Gojo in sportful glee, finally having a chance to surround him and harass him with harsh pats on his back and ruffles of his hair for his play in the first half. Choso even puts him in a headlock because they all don’t know what else to do with their excitement and adrenaline rushing through their bodies. Their win for today was basically confirmed with the way he was playing. 

You catch a glimpse of him through the crowd of people, and he has a boyish grin on his face, reveling in the embarrassing amount of attention from his teammates, that focused look from before dissolving into his normal self again. But you can see through him, as well enough as you’ve learned to at least, and you can tell he’s not satisfied. He’s thinking it’s not enough. There’s still more to be done, and it’s not time to celebrate yet. 

His eyes scan down the sideline until they find you. 

Your heart jumps a second in your chest. He stands up straighter, despite his teammates still clinging to him, and there’s a twinkle in his eyes when your eyes meet. 

Cheerleaders take their place out onto the field, performing their numbers with loud music blaring, and the recruiters seated at their white tables get up to roam across the sidelines in discussion with referees and with Coach Yaga and with whatever players they can sink their greedy teeth into, as well as sneak at refreshments while they’re at it. You can see off to the right that Hana has reunited with Minato and she’s showing him some of the shots she took over at the opponent's side. 

UTokyo’s players start to make their way to the benches to grab for towels and drinks of water and to sprawl across in rest, and you hear loud familiar laughter approaching as you watch the players sprawl across the benches, so you avert your eyes towards the source of the sound. 

You see Gojo approaching the benches, two of his teammates slung with their arms around him in some type of adrenaline-drunken glee as they talk dramatically and theatrically which Gojo entertains with his own drunk-off-of-adrenaline glee. And you raise an eyebrow at his demeanor when he makes eye contact with you.

“There’s my freaky little photographer,” he says, and he’s standing up straight and—wait, is he puffing his chest out as he makes his way towards you? Oh for fucks sake.

Gojo has always been confident around you, for as long as you can remember, but in the fair few moments he’s been cocky, he’s been a menace. And you can only assume the testosterone-induced high of being on the verge of breaking a league record in front of the entire school then subsequently getting homiesexually praised by his teammates for the better part of the past five minutes, not to mention with the crowd and the reporters feeding his ego with a spoon across the speakers, he’s been transformed into the final boss of cocky.

His teammates surround you too, their hands on their hips as they assess you and Gojo when he meanders right up to you, arms held out to hug you, a sleazy sight you’ve seen probably six times this week, and you feel a rush of warmth in your cheeks as you place a hand on his chest to keep him away.

“You’re sweaty and gross, please stay away from me,” you reprimand him, “this is an expensive lens that is not humidity-proof.” 

“Hey, you’re the girl that Kentaro socked in the face with a ball the other day at practice, right?” one of his teammates asks, leaning in towards you to take a closer look at your face.

“Oh yeahhh, ‘cause Satoru wasn’t paying attention,” another one of his teammates chimes in teasingly, hardly heard over the loud remix playing in the background as the cheerleaders continue to perform on the field. 

You shrink a little from where you stand. Gojo’s got an irritated look on his face and he’s shrugging his teammate’s elbow off of his shoulder.

“I really hope you’re getting my good angles,” his teammate to the left comments before winking at you, and you purse your lips together. 

The one on the right leans in too, looking at your cheek with an assessing look in his eye. “At least it didn’t leave a scar on your cute face—”

Gojo shoves the both of them back and away from you by elbowing them in the chest, and they make deep eugh noises before stepping away and rubbing at their sternums with pouts on their faces.

“Get the fuck away from her,” he grumbles, “she’s mine.”

Your cheeks flush slightly with warmth at the attention, and you watch as his teammates scurry away to adhere to some social hierarchy Gojo seems to possess over them.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Yours?”

“Yes. Eventually. Whatever, did you see me out there?” he turns his torso towards the field and points behind himself with his thumb, “when I—”

“Oh god, you know what’s soooooooooo super sexy to me?” you interrupt him. “When guys are humble.”

“Oh c’monnn,” he curls his arm around your waist and pulls you to him, to where you stumble a little on grass and he holds you when you fall into him with more clumsiness than grace. “Tell me you aren’t at least impressed by me.”

You pout, because you are, and you’d really like to give him some reassurance and validation, but for some reason his cocky attitude is setting you off. “Satoru,” you sigh, wiggling a little in his hug, but he holds you tighter, “I’m working right now. Cut it out.”

He lets go of you at that, sober enough from the adrenaline to realize you’re being serious, but he steps into your space so only you can hear him. “What? Are you embarrassed?”

“Of what?” Your face twists with confusion.

“Of me. Are you embarrassed of me?” he asks.

“No. Why would I be embarrassed of you?” you ask with sharpness.

“I don’t know, just, sometimes I feel like you’re always annoyed by me,” he says with a sigh. “It’s like, you’re really sweet sometimes, and then kinda rude out of nowhere, and it’s sort of messing with my head.”

You pout. “You were messing with my head for weeks.”

“And I’m sorry about that,” he quickly interjects, like he already knew you were brewing up that counterargument, “but you don’t have to act like you’re all disinterested and indifferent just to get back at me for it.” He places his hands on his hips and wipes his temple on the round part of his shoulder when he feels a drop of sweat trickle down from his hairline. “You don’t have to act embarrassed around me either.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” you deny, and your cheeks feel hot, and for some reason you feel angry. “In fact, I’m the one that should be asking you that question. Because I still very clearly remember that time you said I was just someone you know in front of your friends.”

He groans and tilts his head back with frustration. “Can you just let that go? Things have changed between us since then. Move on.” 

“You kissed me and then pretended I was just a stranger to you in front of your friends,” you grit as you cross your arms. “That’s the level of sincerity that I know from you, Satoru.”

“Oh, okay, so there’s nothing else I’ve done that shows you that I’m serious about you?” he asks rhetorically with incredulity, throwing his hands up in the air in disbelief.

No. That’s not true, not true at all. But he’s pissed you off now and so all logic was to the wind. “Doesn’t matter. If you’re not embarassed of me, and if you’re really serious about me this time, then fucking prove it.” You’re speaking out of spite, and you fear you’ve just set him off too.

“Fine,” he says, and he grabs the microphone straight out from a passing reporter’s hand, replacing it with a gatorade bottle. The reporter stares at the bottle he’s now holding with confusion. “I will.”

“W-Wait—” you squeak out, feeling the hair at the back of your neck bristle in anticipation and a shiver gets sent down your spine. The cheerleaders are making their way off the field at the end of their routine, and you can hear the thumps across the loud boisterous speakers when Gojo whacks his palm to the microphone to make sure the thing was on before he jogs to the center of the field.

The crowd is already cheering, ecstatic to see the afternoon's star player and pride & joy of their school, and Gojo takes a moment to soak in all the glory in comical appreciation with bowing towards all 360 degree angles of the stadium.

“Uhhh,” you hear Choso from beside you, who’s strapping his thick goalie gloves tightly to his wrists, “Why the fuck does Satoru have a microphone while standing in the middle of the field.”

“It can’t be for any publicly decent reason,” Geto muses.

All you can do is watch.

“Hi, uh,” Gojo starts, static blaring slightly across the speakers and the crowd winces with him, “sorry. I’m Satoru, Gojo Satoru, you might know me from—uh, the game you’ve been watching?”

Cheers all around, because as if a single person wouldn’t know who he is. The stands were rowdy and most definitely drunk off of sidestep beers the stadium has been serving all afternoon long. 

Gojo is about to continue speaking, when he catches sight of the table of recruiters in the corner of his eye and he turns to face them out of respect. “Oh, yeah, uh, number 10,” he tugs his jersey up at the shoulder to stretch out the fabric, the 1 and the 0 flattened in view, “division player ID 233-997. Coach Yaga keeps my business cards in his purse if you want one.”

“SAAAAATTOOORRUUUU!!!!!” you hear Coach Yaga yell from somewhere in the distance.

“Anywho,” Gojo continues, and the music dims slightly, so he glances at the stop clock on the screen, which shows him he’s got roughly five minutes left to pull off whatever idiocracy he had in mind before the second half of the game starts. “Just here to say that there’s this girl I really like.”

The crowd gets louder, almost deafening, and sonically mostly feminine in (delusional) hope he’s gonna name call one of them.

Gojo’s voice is crisp and clear through the speakers as he clarifies. “She’s standing over there,” he says as he nonchalantly points to your exact latitude and longitudinal direction, “with the big camera slung around her neck that looks like it could pull her down to the center of the earth. Yeah. She’s super cute and I really like talking to her.”

“Uh-oh,” Geto murmurs from beside you, and you glance at him to try to get a read on the situation but you can’t.

Gojo starts to pace across the center of the field now, like he’s working the crowd. “But get this—she thinks I’m not fuckin’ serious about her!!!”

The crowd groans with him in unison. Yep, most certainly drunk. Or high off of glee. Either way, he’s playing them like a violin.

“Huh?” Gojo’s voice sounds distant now, away from the mic, and you can see on the large pixelated screen that he’s being interrupted by someone that looks like one of the videographers, “oh, what’s that? This is being broadcasted? Uh-huh. Oh. I’m not allowed to cuss? Oh fuck, okay. Er— shit, okay. Wait—shoot, okay.”

Choso’s smirk is heard from beside you, and you catch Geto and Nanami shaking their heads in your periphery.

“LIKE I SAID,” Gojo continues into the mic, “the girl I like thinks I’m just messing around, so. Uh. To show her that I’m serious about her, I’m gonna…” He looks up at the sky to ponder, and you can hear people shouting all sorts of suggestions of nonsense from the crowd. And instead of saying proclaim my undying affection for her through a romantic soliloquy straight from my heart in the presence of the entire school, he says—“I’m gonna strip. Yes. Down to my tighty whities, Imma strip.”

H–

Huh?!?!?

You don’t even have time to be horrified or scared, you’re just bewildered beyond belief that that’s what he came up with.

What the fuck kind of reassurance did you ask for. And what the fuck kind of reassurance were you about to get?

The crowd goes wild, it’s no surprise to say everyone and their mothers wants to see him naked, even the straight dudes would dig it for the gym inspo. And he points straight to you, sleazy look on his face and you’re going to ignore the fact that he just winked at you too as he crosses his arms to hold the hem of his jersey and pulls it up over his head in the most raunchy and slutty way a man can take his shirt off.

The music manager is quick with the bit, and is most definitely a fellow Gen Z college student, because Justin Timberlake’s SexyBack (ft. Timbaland) starts playing across the speakers and the crowd goes ballistic.

“Ayo why’s Satoru Magic Mike’ing the field right now?” one of his other teammates calls out through a mouthful of protein bar, “What the fuck did I miss?”

The cameraman does God’s work in a hella zoom-in of Gojo’s sweat glistened abs, then pans up the naked expanse of the perfect taut skin across his chest, and you can’t help but stare even among all your horror. It’s like when a male bird embarrasses the fuck outta himself to attract a female bird sitting on a perch, except instead of within the context of a NatGeo documentary, this was your real life. Everyone wants him, but he’s making a fool out of himself for you. 

He pretends to stretch his arms up into the air, a cover-up to flex his biceps, and then he kicks his cleats off, and the socks come off too. Entirely unnecessary, as showing one's ankles is simply too slutty, but alas he’s a whore. And when his thumbs dip into the waistband of his shorts, and there’s anticipating screeching from the crowd, he finally gets chased by security. 

Except he’s an intercollegiate D1 athlete, why the fuck wouldn’t he be able to outrun a bunch of dudes in black?

The camerawork on him is phenomenal as he runs across the sidelines of the field, eliciting a wave down the bleachers. So good in fact that you’re pretty sure the camera man could shoot for the Olympic track and field, with the way the stadium’s got a clear sight of Gojo mouthing the lyrics Them other fuckers don’t know how to act from the song still blaring with satirical rage on his face as he makes a fool of the men chasing him around the perimeter of the field.

And then he does it, drops his shorts, discards them with a kick, and he’s down to his tighty whities as promised. Cameraman has got to be displaying some previously undiscovered level of talent as he zeroes in on a shot of said tighty whities, with Gojo’s—forgive me, I need to be crass—huge bulge prominent in Big Dick Energy fashion except his tighty whities have little red hearts in rows across the fabric so do with that duality what you will.

He’s outrun security with a steady grin on his face as he eats up the drunken crowd’s cheers and riots and roars and you feel like you’re the only sane person in this stadium, or maybe you’re just not used to the fanatics of a college sports crowd. You peep the men in black trailed all the way on the left side of the field where they abandoned their pursuit of Gojo.

He taps imaginary pockets at his thighs, very muscular thighs you take indulgence in noticing, as if he expected to find something there, and he looks around when he doesn’t. He shrugs and grabs the microphone of the next passing sports commentator he spots, and then he makes his way back to you.

His breathing is a little shallow, and he inhales deep to catch his breath. “Baby.” The crowd SCREAMS at the way he purrs the word into the mic. “Will you do me the honor,” he’s huffing and puffing, heard across blaring speakers, “of being my lawfully wedded girlfriend?” And then he holds the mic to your lips.

“W-Wha—” you stutter, and there’s chanting across the crowd with words that barely make sense until you finally realize they’ve started to yell say yes! say yes! say yes! “Oh my gosh, okay, yes, fine, now please, for the love of god, put some freaking clothes on!”

The crowd goes wild with cheerful glees, and Gojo shoots fists up in the air in celebration as he runs all the way towards the center of the field with high knees, and you’re gawking at the sight, before he falls backward onto the grass and makes delirious snow angels on the ground. You see Coach Yaga’s vein popping in his neck from pure agitation as he storms off towards the center of the field to knock some sense into Gojo, but you know that Coach Yaga can’t kick him out, because they still have a game to win. The perks of being the most valued player in the league is getting to act like an absolutely insane idiot because you know they still need you in the end to bring it home.

You glance to the right, seeing his teammates nodding slowly then getting back to wrapping athletic tape around ankles and stretching out shoulders, with immediate acceptance of his actions like it wasn’t even out of character for him to do. And you realize again that you don’t know Gojo as well as you think you do.

And then the halftime timer is up.

You see Gojo approach the benches in a quick jog, squeezing some water into his mouth with his green gatorade squirt bottle, and when your eyes flit up to the screens on all four entrances, you see that the cameramen are still all focused on him accompanied by the continued buzz of conversation among the crowd following his public spectacle. But he seems to already be past any semblance of embarrassment as he takes the attention with ease, before he glances up to make eye contact with you and then lightly jogs right up to you.

“Did that prove to you that I’m not embarrassed of you?” he asks you, cocking a brow with a smug look on his face as he gets all up in your personal space. 

“I don’t know, but I’m certainly thoroughly and expeditiously embarrassed of you now,” you say, cheeks feeling flush when he leans forward so he can make eye contact with you at eye level. “I’ll have to move to a different country.”

His grin is relaxed. “Yeah well you asked for it.”

“Maybe. But I underestimated what a lunatic you are.”

“You’re my girlfriend now, you’ve gotta get used to it.”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest. “Satoru–”

“Tomorrow,” he cuts you off, “Hinode pier. I’ll pick you up at six. It’s a date, so wear something cute. And preferably easy to take off.” And then he’s attentive to the chirp of the referee’s whistle in the air before jogging backwards towards the feel and eventually turns on his heel towards the field while you’re left with warm cheeks and a heart that felt like it was moving at a mile a minute.

The timer for the second half refreshes on the screen while you loosely hold your camera in your shaking hands. It occurs to you that you haven’t taken a single photo of him before the start of the kickoff, and so you bring the piece of consolidated metal up to your eyes, peering through the viewfinder and focusing it on the center of the field. And there he was. Your muse.

Gojo lets out a breath, which you can see even from here that it’s shaky and staggered with resistance, and he lifts his jersey up to swipe at the sweat trickling down his face as he eyes the ball underneath YCU’s player’s foot just prior to the start of the second half. There it was—that look again of pure focus. 

3-1, forty-five minutes on the clock. And the referee chirps the whistle to start the second half.

It’s immediately evident that YCU has returned to the field following halftime with renewed energy, pressing high down the flank relentlessly past UTokyo’s defense, so fast it was hard for anybody to even keep a steady eye on the ball with the fluidity of their passes. The persistence pays off in the fake double-pass that slips past Geto’s feet, a moment of hesitation in the broken flow of UTokyo’s defense, and one of YCU’s strikers has the perfect line of shot towards the goal before digging his foot under the ball and sending it flying towards the corner of the goal post, scoring themselves a goal within just the first five minutes of play.

3-2.

The pressure mounts at the next kickoff, and with about seven minutes of solid play, with back-and-forth passes, multiple attempts at both goal posts to no avail on either side, it was clear that exhaustion was bustling in the veins of all the players.

One of YCU’s offensive players seems to capitalize on this, jumping on a defensive lapse of a pass Nanami attempted to make towards Yuta, and the ball is swiftly stolen then raced back towards the goal post. Choso prepared himself at the line, light on his feet paired with a solid stance, but in a millisecond of a moment, YCU’s offense unexpectedly passes the ball to a player racing up the midfield, and the player chips the ball neatly into the exposed corner of the goal despite Choso’s attempt to lunge for it in mid air.

Equalized, 3-3 game, momentary shock across the players’ faces, and the crowd bustles with something that sounds less like glee and more life fear. YCU was prepared to live up to and hold onto their title as the league’s number one offense, and as Minato explained to you during your time working in this job, an offensive team isn’t good at scoring goals, but rather exceptional at breaking down the other team’s defense.

Your eyes zero in on Geto, who stands in the center of the field for kickoff, and he’s huffing and puffing. He's the lead of defense for the team, and you can only imagine the level of pressure he feels right now. He glances around to his players, over to Nanami who seemed to share the same level of exhaustion, and then he glances towards Gojo who stood in front of him off to the right. Except you notice that Gojo looks relaxed, albeit still exhausted, but there’s a composed expression on his face even in the moment of heightened stakes. With locked eyes, Geto nods at Gojo and raises two fingers up into the air to signal a play, of which Gojo seems to respond to by closing more distance between him and the goal post prior to the kickoff, positioning himself almost directly in front of it, to which YCU’s defense immediately begin to guard him in a tight radius. 

The kickoff begins, with Geto making a few passbacks with Nanami as they close distance towards the field before passing it off to UTokyo’s string of offense and then receding back to their defending goal. UTokyo continues to close distance, raising stakes for YCU as their defense begins to falter under pressure, and the ball gets passed to Gojo, who only keeps it in possession for less than three seconds before he passes it back to Yuuji, a risky decision to make in the second half of a semifinal match, but the first-year swiftly unleashes a powerful shot that rockets past YCU’s goalkeeper, up towards the corner, except–

It bounces off the metal of the goal post, shot off with projectile speed back towards the center of the field, but with razor-sharp reflexes, Gojo headbutts the ball in air, twists his torso and strikes the ball with his foot past a dumbfounded goalie who can’t even move an inch to guard the ball that he already knew was going to sink right into the goal, and that’s exactly what it does. 

The stadium erupts with the momentum.

4-3, UTokyo. 

It was a sweet moment, one you manage to capture on camera of Gojo running up to Yuuji and ruffling his hair in reassurance, despite the missed goal. Your heart feels warm in your chest, feeling your own sense of melancholy that this was one of the last times they’ll ever get to play together on a team. 

Your eyes widen when you glance at the scoreboard, realizing that he’s tied. Gojo is tied for the most goals scored during a championship match. There were less than three minutes left on the clock. UTokyo either preserves their lead, or they risk moving into overtime, which, judging by the exhaustion on the UTokyo players’ faces in the wake of YCU’s relentless offense this entire game, moving into overtime would be a hefty, hefty risk. 

YCU’s center forward takes his place in the center of the field, fire evident in his eyes as he glances across the field. YCU are light on their feet, channeling everything in their bodies into these last moments of the game as they prepare to start the kickoff. You glance across UTokyo’s players, and although they look spent, there was a resolute look to all of them. It wasn’t the time to give up or feel at ease even near the end of this grueling battle. Now was the time to play. 

The referee chirped his whistle, and the kickoff began.

YCU immediately presses hard, as all their other plays have been all game, in their desperation to score. You can already see UTokyo’s midfielders move sluggishly in comparison to YCU’s offense, a drag to their feet as YCU pushes past the first layer of defense towards their attacking goal. Geto takes an aggressive approach, making moves to steal the ball while Nanami and Yuta guarded both flanks, and there was a relentless pass-off happening that ate up more than a minute of the remaining time.

Nanami succeeds in stealing the ball, but immediately loses it under his feet by a YCU midfielder, who makes a broad pass down the sidelines to YCU’s star forward who then powerfully kicks the ball towards the unguarded area of their goal, a dangerous shot that was clear towards the crossbar and Choso makes a leap for it, high into the air, his glove brushing against the ball, the entire crowd holding their breath in anticipation–

And the ball lands in the net. 

4-4, tied game. With one minute and seventeen seconds left on the clock. 

There was no time wasted in getting back to center field. No time spent dwelling in the horrific roars of the crowd as they watch with anxiety and fear. No time spent to process or consider or signal any plays. Not even a single second used to catch breath. When there is this much at stake, an athlete thrives on momentum. 

To your surprise, Gojo isn’t the one that takes place at the center of the field to start the kickoff. Yuta stands there instead, and you notice his eyes are erratic as he surveys all corners of the field. 

The referee chirps his whistle. 

Yuta immediately passes it off to the side to UTokyo’s midfielder, who curls it towards their attacking goal with a swift pass to Ino, who closes distance towards the goal, but one of YCU’s defender slips in, undoing any progress they had made in their offense by stealing the ball and sending it back towards mid-field. Forty-three seconds. The crowd’s roars heightened as YCU continued to push forward, thirty yards now from scoring, and UTokyo’s defense was desperate to stop them but their momentum was cracking in the wake of their exhaustion. 

It was a moment you don’t think you could ever fully or truly recall, one that you wish you had focused all your energy and attention to so that you could commit it to memory for the rest of your life. The image of Gojo pushing all the way to ten yards before their defending goal, a place where no center forward should really be at in a game like this, but it was exactly what their defense needed. It was exactly what the team needed. It was exactly what the school needed. For the ball to be in his possession.

With twenty-two seconds left on the clock, he steals the ball from right under YCU’s offensive feet, and then charges towards the opposite side of the field. The crowd rises to their feet, thunderous roaring that overtook any and all senses, as Gojo weaves through forwards, center forwards, midfielders, and defenders, covering the entire span of the field in lightning time. Fifty yards, forty yards, thirty yards, twenty hards, ten yards–

In a moment you couldn’t believe, he digs his foot underneath the ball, and sends it flying out towards the goal. There was not even a margin of an inch in which it slipped past the goalie’s hands, past his head, and swiftly flew right into the net.

With three-two-one seconds, the match was over. 

5-4, UTokyo’s win.

The final whistle blew, and for a moment, there was silence. As if the world paused to catch its breath. Then, all at once, the crowd erupted with glee that shook the entire stadium at its core. Flags waving, scarves held high, toasts of beer held up to the sky, it was deafening, and it almost makes you want to cry. Thousands of voices shouting in unison, celebrating the hard-fought victory of their school’s team. A type of pride that was fostered, and well-deserved, and long-lived.

You quickly glance towards the field again, and see Gojo standing right at the same spot where he had kicked the last and final goal, staring towards the net. You can’t see the expression on his face, but it surprises you how still he is. Like a statue, staring at the goal with the ball tucked into its corner. The very epitome of what it means to succeed in this sport was right in front of him, and it seemed like he wanted to soak the visual in for as long as he could.

His trance is abruptly interrupted when his teammates swarm in, rushing over like a wave of pure adrenaline. They slap him on the back, ruffle his hair, shout his name, the sounds of gleeful disbelief mixed with exhausted sighs of relief swarming into the air. And Gojo finally melts away from the tension of the match and into the celebration as he weakly returns the embraces of his teammates while he catches his breath. 

“IT’S OFFICIAL!! IT’S OFFICIAL!! UTOKYO’S VERY OWN GOJO SATORU HAS OBLITERATED OSAKA UNIVERSITY’S RECORD FOR MOST GOALS SCORED BY A SINGLE PLAYER IN A CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH!!” 

The speakers are blaring the voices of the sports announcers, along with ambient music to match the intensity of the match that everyone had just witnessed. 

You should probably be doing your job. You know, take a picture of the huddle of players on the field as they bask in the glory of a close victory, but instead your feet start moving on their own. Like a magnet drawn to him, you make your way towards Gojo, only a slight hesitation in your step as you stop about ten feet away, suddenly unsure. But when he makes eye contact with you, all that fear melts away.

He hastily pats the backs of some of his teammates, acknowledging their praise at the center of the huddle before tightly squeezing past them to make his way over to you. Your heart is beating fast in your chest, feeling an almost overwhelming sense of pride in your school’s team, but more importantly, in him. What was the acceptable thing to do? Run to him, into his arms, and hug him while he twirls you around? Tackle him to the grassy ground? Kiss him like your life depended on it? You have no clue what the acceptable or sane or normal thing to do is. But he’s made his decision for you when he walks right up to you, his hands holding your waist as he pulls you towards him. He smells earthy, of grass and salt and sweat and of all the hard work he poured into today, the wear and tear of the game evident in the wear and tear of his jersey. He only manages to huff out an exhale at the sight of you, like some relief washing over him just by looking into your eyes. Forget the fact that the crowd was all watching and that all of the screens you could see past his head were focused on the two of you, because all you could hear or see or think was him.

“I believe you owe me a kiss,” he says, huffing as he catches his breath but that doesn’t stop the smile that makes its way onto his face.

You nod your head, giving him your own version of a sweet smile as your arms slide up past his shoulders, crossing behind his neck, and he leans down to kiss you.

You hear a swell from the crowd, some teasing comments off in the distance from some of his teammates, you’re pretty sure you hear Coach Yaga yelling at him to get back to the benches, but it all melts away with the feeling of him smiling against your lips as he kisses you at the center of this stadium.

It was a moment so pure, so sweet, so picture perfect, and for once, you’re not the one behind the camera taking the photo. You’re the one that’s in it.

.

.

.

.

.

[end of kickoff ch12]

a/n. aaa thanks a lot for reading!! pls the fucking public stripping scene was so stupid i apologize on behalf of kickoff gojo for his behavior 😂😂 i’ll put him in his cage dw this chapter had some of what i consider to be the most challenging aspects of writing for me (internal conflict, grand public gesture, sports jargon) and so writing it felt like an uphill battle the ENTIRE time i wrote it and edited it. i considered scrapping it sooo many times cuz i just wasn't happy w it...but whatever i can't expect to be 100% happy w every chapter i put out there haha. i think kickoff has become a lil sacred for me since i've been working on it for a while now but likeee...sometimes u just gotta say fuck it we ball (tbh kickoff gojo probably says that to himself before a match) anywho, i am veryy thoroughly excited for what i've got planned for the chapters to follow, especially moving into the last angsty arc before the end of the series!! so i look forward to picking up momentum w this series again :0 honestly chapters 10 through 12 were the most difficult things i've written so far for a lot of reasons, but i have a feeling things will go more smoothly for me creatively going forward since what i've got planned falls well within my writing comfort range oh also there seems to be a little confusion about the number of chapters left, as i know i had originally said 12, but i anticipate that there will be about 18 chapters of kickoff total!! so still around six chapters left before the end :)) much lovee thanks for reading!!

OH WAIT ONE LAST NOTE I'M SORRY i didn’t really have a way of organically incorporating this into the story n i’m not sure if i’ll get a chance to in the upcoming chapters, so i just wanted to share this part of ch7 (gojo’s pov chapter) that is relevant to this chapter:

During the thrilling semifinal match between Keio Uni, Gojo’s father’s team, and Yokohama Uni during the end of his senior year, spectators witnessed a game that most college soccer enthusiasts would deem was a once-in-a-lifetime watch. Both teams engaged in relentless offense, and Gojo’s father was on his way to shatter the record of the most goals scored in a single championship match within the history of the league, but when he received a call from his wife during a timeout with the most life-altering news he could have ever heard, he abandoned everything on the field that day to go home and be with her. Grainy footage from the televised broadcast still exists online today—the moment he sprinted across the field, confused players glancing in his direction, amidst the uproar of the crowd. She called to let him know she was pregnant. 

the record that gojo broke in this chapter is the same record that his father almost broke before he got the call that he was going to be a dad :0 

➸ you're all caught up!

additional notes. please do not pressure me for updates or ask when i will next update (read rules); taglist is currently closed (consider subscribing to the story on my ao3 for email updates if you'd like! :0)

taglist:

@megumisdivinedogs @witchbybirth @avatarl0v3r @mwtsxri @asherheed

@wynney @delulux3 @higurumapet @zombriesworld @xenop0p

@phoenix-eclipses @who-can-touch-my-boob @mo0nforme @reagan707 @lost-resonance

@foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @beabadobeee @thexmistress

@tsukikourito @pickuptruck01 @gabriiiiiiii @4y3sh4 @tiredflame132

@cliosunshine @btszn @izayas-rings @semra4 @ethereally-lyann

@drthymby @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010

@joemama-2 @horisdope @banenemilk @nanasukii28 @spindyl

@ri-sa20 @thexmistress @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @sashisuslover

@chwesuh-imnida @megumisthirdog @imjustaweirdnerd @angelicscribe

[taglist is closed]

[brenwritesss]

Tru Fru part 5

Paige Bueckers x reader

Summary: You miss your girlfriend too much, and she's completely whipped for you.

Warnings: smut and language

a/n: the final part of the Tru Fru series!! Have fun!!

It’s been seven months since you and Paige had made your relationship official and life couldn’t be any better. You loved waking up to her beautiful face every morning, going to every one of her home games at UConn, kissing her during the sunset, but most of all your favorite part was being loved by her. She spoiled you as if you were the only girl in her world. Every week followed the same routine: flowers, gifts, date nights, cuddles in bed, and sex. It was almost too good to be true. 

However, with the end of the semester approaching, that came with too much homework and studying, and not enough time. Being a STEM major was tough work, especially when all you wanted to do was spend the time you dedicated to your work on your girlfriend instead. What made matters worse was that Paige was away for a game, and the amount of phone calls, texts, and FaceTimes didn’t lessen the miserable feeling of missing her at all. Not to mention, with all the stress you had been having throughout the past week, not having her with you to release that tension and stress was beginning to show. 

You were sitting at your desk, so deep into your homework that you almost didn’t notice your phone ringing. You pick it up, Paige’s caller ID flashing across the screen. You couldn’t help the small frown that crept onto your face as you answered. “Hey.”

Paige’s voice that always soothed you came through your speakers. “Hey baby, I’m not interrupting anything right?”

You shook your head as if she was in the room with you. “No you’re not.”

“Ight, chill. You haven’t been responding to my texts all day so I got worried. Everything okay?” You could hear the genuine concern laced in her voice and it tugged at your heart. You didn’t mean to not respond, but with all the work you were doing and missing her, you kept pushing it off, not wanting her to see how much her being away was affecting you.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay. Sorry, I’ve been studying all day that I haven’t really been on my phone.” That wasn’t a total lie.

“I miss you,” she paused. “Well, I always miss you so I bet you already knew that.”

You wanted to laugh but knowing that she missed you just as badly as you did made you want to break down. “I miss you too.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked you. In the seven months you had been dating, Paige had instantly learned how to read you, even when she wasn’t near you. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” you lie. “Why?”

“Y/n, you’re my girlfriend. You think I can’t tell when you’re lying? Talk to me, princess.” And this was the reason you fell in love with her. How she cared about you was unlike anything else you had ever experienced.

“I just…” you trailed off, debating if you actually wanted to tell her what had you upset. “I’m really stressed out.”

“With finals?” It was like she read your mind. Almost.

“Yeah.”

“Babe, how many times do I have to tell you that you got it in the bag,” she reassures you. “You’re the smartest girl I know. Not to mention the hottest.”

Thank God she wasn’t here to witness the blushing mess you had just turned into. You let out a small, breathless laugh. “Thank you.”

“But seriously, you’re putting way too much pressure on yourself. And I know this because I did the same thing when I was training, so I get it. But it’s not gonna help you," she paused and you could hear her take in a deep breath. "God, I wish I could hold you right now.” It was almost like she said that last part to herself and it made your heart jump.

“Yeah, I wish that too. I know I shouldn’t be doing too much, I just can’t help it. You’re not even here so I’m bored.” And that was when you heard her smug, deep laugh.

“Babe,” she says into the phone. “Don’t boost my ego like that.”

“Shut up.”

“Tell me how much you miss me.”

You sigh, only causing her to laugh more. “I miss you. A lot.”

“Yeah?” she asked you and you could just picture that hot smile on her face. “How much?”

“Too much,” you whispered into your phone.

“Don’t lie to me like that.”

“Okay, fine. I hate that I’m feeding your ego like this but I’m miserable without you.” You braced yourself for her reaction to your words.

“There it is,” she says while laughing. “It’s almost like I was expecting that answer.”

You roll your eyes. “Fuck off.”

“Fuck off? Hell no. Fuck you? Every damn day for the rest of my fucking life.” You’d be lying if you denied that Paige saying that did things to you.

“Don’t say things like that.”

“Why? Because it’ll get you all wet?” 

“Paige Bueckers, what the fuck is wrong with you?” And you stood by what you said. Paige knew exactly how she was making you feel because she had made you feel it almost every day for the past seven months.

“Answer a question for me baby.” You replied with a soft “hm”, telling her to continue. “Is one of the reasons that you’ve been missing me so much because you’re horny?”

You froze. Damn, she knew you well. “Maybe.”

“I fucking knew it. You’re horny. Babe, I’m making you wet right now aren’t I?” She spoke to you in that hot, soothing voice that just made you melt every time you heard it.

“Talking like that, what do you expect?”

“Send me a picture of that pretty pussy for me real quick. I need to see something,” she ordered. And as she had expected, you did just what she had asked because a few minutes later, you sent her a photo of your pussy, all wet for her. Did it take you a few tries to get the angle right? Yes. Did Paige need to know that? Hell fucking no.

Paige, still on the phone when the photo was sent, sighs heavily through the mic. You just knew she was staring at that picture. A few seconds passed before she sighed again, “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Wait what?” That girl was states away and was not expected back for another three days. What the hell did she mean by that?

“I don’t think your pussy can go three more days without some attention. I’ll be at your place by midnight, love you baby.” And with that, she hangs up on you.

It was in that moment that you knew Paige Bueckers was insanely whipped for you.

So naturally, you did what any other sane, sex-deprived college student who was missing her girlfriend would do and sent her another picture. Only this time, you made sure it was extra wet. Just how she liked it.

Paige ❤️

All wet for me

Better be laid out all pretty for me

Yeah, that did it. If it weren’t for the fact that you knew she would be here soon, you would have jumped in bed and gone to town. But Paige wants you all wet and pretty for her. And who were you to argue?

You felt as if you had lived through a hundred years before you heard a knock on your door. You wasted no time in almost running across your living room to the front door, grabbing the knob, and opening the door to reveal a tall and muscular Paige leaning against the doorframe, hands in her pocket. She lifted her eyes up from the floor and they landed on you, taking in the sight of you in your bra and her shorts. She pushed herself away from the doorframe and stepped closer to you. “Told you I’d be here in a few hours.”

Your throat went dry and you suddenly lost the ability to speak. Although, you figured that was only one of many times that would happen tonight. Paige walked in and shut the door behind her, not even waiting another second to wrap her big hands around you. The contact you had missed so much this week was finally back again and it made your heart flutter. 

Her arms tightened around your waist, gently picking you up as you wrapped your legs around her waist. “Missed you so much.”

“From those pictures, I could tell,” she says as her hands move to your ass to support you. She kisses your cheek, walking to your room. “I missed you too.”

“Need you right now.” Your words set a fire inside Paige as she practically threw you on your bed, ripping her shorts off you. Her hands roamed all over your body and that was when you believed that your body was created to fit her hands. It just fits so well.

“Fuck baby,” she whispered in your ear. “You have no idea how bad it was on that plane, looking at your pussy and not being able to touch her.”

“Just my pussy?” you asked her in the most innocent way possible with a look that made her shiver against you. You tugged at her shirt, pulling it off her with ease.

She took it from your hands and tossed it to the side. “Every damn part of you.” That was all she said before she devoured your tongue, sucking it in between her lips and creating a slobbery, wet mess between your mouths. You wanted to get her kisses tattooed on you, never forgetting them for the rest of your life.

Her hand brushes up your stomach, palming your breast and that’s when you feel a small surge of pleasure coarse through your body and straight to your core. She brings her mouth toward your right breast, cupping it in her hand as she gently rolls her tongue over your nipple. You moaned at the sudden rupture of heat from her tongue, raking your hands through her hair. She spits on it, licking it all up again. “Only mine to see and suck like this.”

“Mhm,” you breathe out, tightening your grip on her hair. “Only yours.”

She licks a line all the way up from your tits to your jaw, latching her mouth back onto yours. One of her hands steadies herself on the bed while the other grabs your leg and hooks it over her waist. Using that same hand, she rubs it up and down your thigh, leaving goosebumps after each trail. You tighten your leg around her waist which earns you a small moan that you could almost feel deep in the back of your throat. 

“Paige baby, please,” you whisper into her mouth. She lets go of your lips, leaving a trail of hot kisses down your neck. 

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Need you to fuck me,” you say bluntly. It was almost as if you could hear the low growl coming from her throat as it vibrated through your bones.

Her hand moved from rubbing your thigh to caressing your inner thigh, inching up higher and higher. The way she caressed your thighs perfectly made you whine out for more as she demolished your collarbones and neck. Her fingers moved toward your pretty pussy lips, practically feeling your arousal. She pulled away from your neck and looked down towards her fingers, admiring the sight below her. You whimpered at the feeling of her fingers on you, just teasing you. “Baby please.”

Paige goes back to kissing your neck, nipping at your skin occasionally. “Just relax, gonna get you so wet for me.”

She spends the next few minutes teasing you; circling your clit a few times then applying pressure as she slid her fingers down to your entrance, drawing an invisible circle around it, then dragging her fingers back up to your clit only to repeat the same pattern again. She had you a whimpering mess, grabbing at her back and her hair, lightly pulling at it. 

“Fuck, P,” you whined.

“Keep those beautiful words coming,” she says as she finally enters two fingers into your tight hole. You gasp as your grip on her shoulders tightens. You try to clench your legs together but she moves her knee in between them to keep them apart. And of course, knowing Paige, she had to say something about it too. “Don’t even think about it, princess.”

Her fingers thrust in and out and you could hear just how wet you were becoming. And to Paige, that was music to her ears almost as much as your moans were. And God, did you fucking love that sound of her fingers inside your cunt. “Paige, oh my–”

“Just like that,” she said, speeding up her movements which earned her another pornographic moan from you. She nodded at you. “Yeah, just like that.”

“That’s so fucking good, mmm,” you moaned, making direct eye contact with her. You were becoming soaked now and Paige knew that with a few more thrusts of her fingers, you’d be cumming onto her. And although seeing you cum on her fingers was one of her favorite things ever, she needed it to be better. To remind you how she was the only person who could even touch you like this. So she pulled out her fingers which resulted in an almost suctioning sound and stuck them into your mouth. “Taste yourself, pretty girl.”

You wasted no time in licking her fingers clean, even though you were slightly annoyed at the fact that she pulled them out before you could cum. “What are you doing?”

Paige smirked at you. “You tell me how much you miss me, I see your pussy, and I fly all the way over here, and you think I’m not gonna take my time and fuck the shit out of you?”

That’s when you knew you shouldn’t even think about making plans tomorrow. Or the next day after that. And maybe the day after that too. Before you could even say anything, she slides a box out from under your bed and pats your leg. “Give me two minutes and I’ll be right back. And I better not see your hands anywhere near your pussy when I get back.” She walks into the bathroom with the box.

You felt as if you couldn’t even function properly with your body almost shaking and feeling as if you were out of breath. You wait a couple minutes, starting to grow impatient trying to wait for Paige. Finally, she emerges from the bathroom, a nice, long, and thick strap attached to her waist. You widened your eyes at the sight of her just as you did every time you saw her wear it. Every time, you always questioned yourself as to whether or not you’d be able to take it. But Paige always made sure you knew that you could take it perfectly every time.

She walks up to you and uses her hands to push your legs farther apart. You quiver underneath her touch. She uses two fingers and slides them between your folds, letting them become coated in your juices. She then pulls her hand away and rubs it on her purple dick. The purple, plastic dick she used to fuck you so many times. Once her fingers transferred your coating onto the strap, she then ran it down your folds like she had just done with her fingers. You felt as if you could cum just from that and you wanted nothing more than to flip Paige onto her back and ride her.

“Tell me how much you missed this,” Paige orders you, aligning it against your entrance. You gasped at the movement and gripped onto the bedsheets.

“I–” you breathe out as she begins pushing it inside you. “Fuck.”

“Keep telling me,” she says, not pushing it in all the way.

“I needed you to–”

Your gasps stop you from talking as she begins to sink into you even more. You gather up your strength to moan out, “fuck me like this so badly.”

Paige finally lets the strap sink deep inside you. Your moans filled the air of your room and Paige watched you in awe. She admired everything about you in this state: the way your eyes lingered on her, the way your knuckles turned white from gripping the bedsheets and the way your back arched from taking it.

Paige began slowly thrusting, putting her hands on either side of your waist to gain more control while she thrusted it inside you. You were a moaning mess at this point and you didn’t know where to put your hands. You continuously moved them from the bedsheets to the pillow under your head, to the headboard. 

Paige took your moans as permission to increase her speed. As she moved faster against you, she gripped your hips harder. “Just like that. Taking me like a good girl.”

You could feel yourself getting more slick as she slid inside you every second. And you knew that at any point you were about to cum from her. Paige moved one of her hands from your hip to your nipple, rolling it between her fingers and then bringing her hand back to your hip. 

Paige can tell you’re about to cum and that’s when she not only continues to speed up, but begins to thrust a bit harder, hitting the spot that she knew would make you come undone right on her. “Can’t take it anymore,” you whine out just as she begins hitting that spot deep within you earning more loud moans.

“Yes you can baby, you always do,” Paige says as soothing as she could. “Now let me see that pretty pussy cum.”

And that combined with how deep she was hitting was all you needed to release. You cum right onto Paige’s dick as the knot in your stomach breaks. You almost cried out at the sensation. Paige rubbed circles on your hips and helped you ride out your high like she did every time. “Just like that,” she cooed.

You go numb on the mattress, holding your breath as Paige pulls out of you. You spend the next few minutes trying to regain control of your breathing and let your heart beat get back to normal as Paige takes off the strap. You almost could still feel her inside you and she’d never let you forget it. 

Finally, you gather the strength to speak, “You felt so good.”

Paige laughs as she slides the box underneath your bed. “You always take it like a princess.”

You laugh as your body is still trying to recover from being completely wrecked just a few minutes ago. Paige climbs into your bed, lying down beside you and wrapping her arms around you, pulling you closer to her. You lay your head on her chest, tracing random shapes on her abs. “I love you,” you whisper to her.

She kisses your head and pulls you as close as she can to her. “I love you too, princess.” You’re a smiling mess as you lie with her and enjoy the feeling of being in her arms. That is, until she speaks up, “So, you got any Tru Fru in the freezer?”

[deerspherestudios]

Hi there! I just wanted to let you know that I love your games! Mushroom Oasis especially has an especially place in my heart. Mychael is such an interesting character and one of my favorite types of yanderes—not violent towards his object of affection but still manipulative and willing to cross lines even if he feels guilty about it. Thank you so much for the work you have done; it’s obvious this game is a labor of love and I am looking forward to see how the story progresses.

In the meantime, I have to ask, do you think there might be a future option where the player can cook for Mychael? Totally okay if that is a little too specific. Cooking is just a love of mine and I love to cook for people I love and I feel that is something that Mychael would appreciate.

Also—and forgive me if you have answered this already—but I was curious to see where Mychael’s affection lands on the scale you created by the end of day 3. Or would there be more than one answer since it seems actions taken on this day might start to split between the platonic and romantic routes.

Thank you again for your time and for creating this wonderful game. Your art is so lovely and you have a real knack for fun character design.

HELLO!! Thank you so much for the kind words!! For me personally I've never been a fan of "if I can't have you no one can <3" type yanderes so knowing that it's a shared sentiment means a lot!!

I actually have something of an idea where MC does something nice for Mychael for a change in Day 4!

It was closer to buying a gift and the players can choose what they'd get for him but adding a cooking/baking option (or a more diverse set of gifts rather than just shopping for it) seems like a good idea! As usual the script is still cooking so we'll see!

As for the charts, they're answered here and explained here!

Also,,, idk if you'll ever read the addition below but I'm holding back on gushing rn because uh, this is for you personally but it's basically an appreciation post for being one of my fave authors <3!!!:

AAAA A A 11 !! ??

I'm gonna try and articulate myself in the best way I can but I have been a FAN of your writing since??? Gosh, 2015??? I was following your blog back when the pfp was a torchic (and a treecko i think??) and the header was Swiggity swiff Gotta Yiff ?? Idk if you're comfortable with people knowing of your writing but let me know if I should edit anything here!!!

I LOVED your writing so much it was silly and witty but you can do drama and heart and spicy just as well it was a major inspiration!!! I genuinely though it was a little goof when I saw you were following my blog the other day and THEN YOU SEND ME AN ASK??? IM, , , THROUGH THE ROOF, I would mention my fav fics of yours by name but I'd be outing myself but the scope is huge <3

I've been thinking of how to respond to this all DAY and decided to just be honest but but just know I love what you do <3 Admittedly idk if you still write these days but either way I hope you're doing well!!!! <3

[sungstars]

what sex with them is like. . . ft. mark, chenle, & jisung of nct dream !

cw: nsfw (18+), minors dni, afab! reader, explicit sex, face fucking, switch!chenle, switch!reader

author's note: in honor of me missing dream >.< also dedicated to my very delusional best friends that i love

^ྀི MARK LEE

most of the time sex with mark is always sweet. he enjoys taking his time with you and making sure that YOU feel good. his pleasure isn’t something he’s too concerned about. when you feel good, he feels ecstatic. he would describe himself as a “man of pleasure”, and would never want you to even lift a finger to try to do anything to him.

he gets off on making you feel good, he loves that you’re a pillow princess.

however, every now and then, something in him will snap. he’d be so rough with you that bruises would appear on your skin the next day, his finger nails making indentations that he’ll always freshen up the next time.

pulling your hair, spanking you, biting you, pushing your head down on his dick, that’s the mark you really enjoy. of course his sweet demeanor in the bed room is always a delight, but when mark treats you like a slut, that’s what you really enjoy.

“fuck,” mark groaned, the grip on your hair tightening if that was even possible, “you’re like a bitch in heat.”

your eyes brimmed with tears from not only the tight grip, but also from the tip of his fat cock hitting the back of your throat. your hands wrapped around what your mouth couldn’t reach, eliciting groans from mark.

“fuck, i love you so much.” he squeezed his eyes shut as he continued to fuck your mouth.

^ྀི ZHONG CHENLE

chenle, contrary to mark, makes you work for everything. you want him to touch you? okay, he’ll touch you. his fingers will brush your arm, he’ll rest his hand against your thigh, wrap an arm around your waist and stroke your hip bone gently. he knows that’s not what you wanted, but you didn’t specify what you wanted.

when you would have enough of his teasing, you’d ask him to “touch you properly”

“i’m not sure what you mean?” he would whisper, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, “i am touching you.”

a pathetic whine escaped from your lips, grabbing his hand and pushing it to the heat between your legs, “dont make me beg for it lele.”

without second thought, he snatched his hand back and turned back towards the television. not that he could really pay attention, he just didn't have the patience for any bratty behavior. ever.

"why did you stop?" you whined again, pulling on his sleeve to get his attention even though you knew why he did.

chenle didn't reply, keeping his eyes focused on the movie even though he really didn't fucking care about what was on the screen. he was thinking about how pathetic you were about to turn in order to get his attention.

"lele," you whispered, kissing down his neck to get some sort of reaction out of him, but of course, you didn't.

you were getting a bit frustrated despite knowing chenle's game. he always did this so you should be used to it, but you weren't.

that means you would have to sink to a level that you knew he would absolutely enjoy seeing you succumbed to.

fine, if that meant you could get what you want. untangling yourself from his limbs and straddling his lap. you had a plan.

chenle rolled his eyes at you, leaning his head to the side so he could continue to watch the tv. he had to fight back a smile because he knew you were going to give in.

instead of pouting or whining like you normally would, you wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your forehead against his.

"i know what you want me to do," you said, forcing eye contact, "but i'm not going to do that tonight, chenle."

the victory he thought he had immediately faltered and he narrowed his eyes, "you aren't?"

you shook your head before kissing down his neck once more, slowly moving your hips down against the erection starting to grow underneath you, "i think you should let me take charge for once, hm?"

^ྀི PARK JISUNG

normally when it came to sex, you were in charge. jisung liked when you told him what to do, how to make you feel good, how to make himself feel good. he loved being told what to do in the bedroom.

jisung absolutely went insane when you would choke him, it always pushed him over the edge.

so it surprised you when jisung asked you if he could take charge in the bedroom for once. to tell you what to do, to tell you how to please him, to choke you. he wanted to see what it was like.

and who were you to say no to your sweet boy?

it was like a switch was flipped when the day finally came.

you were on top of jisung in the backseat of his car, pushing your hips down to meet his growing bugle and tongue down his throat.

his fingers were gripping your waist in a bruising manner, groaning when you begin kissing down his neck and sucking dark hickeys into his skin.

"fuck, y/n," he whined, bucking his hips up to get some sort of relief from his aching boner, "stop teasing."

giggling sweetly, you continued kissing down to his collarbones and biting, "i said stop teasing."

you scoffed against his skin, pulling away and looking down at him, "since when did you start telling me what to do?"

jisung's jaw was tense, but instead of saying anything back, he quickly flipped you over and wrapped his hand around your throat.

"stop talking," he spat, hiking one of your legs loosely over his hips, "my turn."

he used the hand wrapped around your throat to slip his fingers in between your lips, forcing you to open your mouth and suck his lithe digits in.

jisung's eyes were dark with lust, starting to grind against your core, "it's my turn to be in charge."

[abyssal-ilk]

A thing that people always forget when chastising vivienne for being so apathetic to cole is the fact that she is a circle mage. People whom are forced to learn that you should not trust demons nor spirits or else they’ll put you down AS A RITE OF PASSAGE. Think back to what Mouse says in DAO. “Keep your wits about you, mage; true challenges never end.” She knows that for the rest of her life, demons will tempt her and try to possess her. She has seen mages turn into abominations, knows how they get them- of course she will support templars who have the skills to subdue them. And now to have a spirit scurrying around without supervision what is the last bastion against a Tevinter Sidereal… I too would be worried as hell if i were a circle mage.

EXACTLY!

not only is vivienne a circle mage, but there are also a few other factors that play into it that make cole so untrustworthy to her. vivienne underwent her harrowing when she was young– in fact, she was the youngest mage to have ever gone through a harrowing and survived it. we don't get to learn much about what she went through during her harrowing, but we DO have this banter between her and cole:

harrowings on their own are already traumatic enough, and with the added insistence from the circles that all spirits and demons are dangerous (which we see vivienne repeat above, "all it can do is harm."), it makes complete sense on why vivienne would be so put-off by cole! especially given how kind he is! she thinks that kindness is a ploy, and why wouldn't she if her harrowing was anything like the warden's in DAO?

and then that's not even acknowledging the fact that cole isn't just ANY spirit. he's the ghost of the spire. he's killed mages before and admits to doing so. and even though he was wrong to do so and realizes that what he did was wrong, that does not mean that vivienne automatically has to suddenly be okay with what cole did. of course vivienne takes cole being the ghost of the spire harder than everyone else in the inner circle. she is the only circle mage there. it is entirely plausible that she sees cole as a threat and views herself as being the person most able to recognize that threat because of what she was taught. it's why she struggles so much to empathize with cole on any level.

ive already talked about this briefly on another post, but cole is also fairly antagonistic to vivienne as well. it's easy to look at their dynamic and think that, well, cole is just trying to help vivienne but he... isn't? his version of helping her is prying into her thoughts without permission and continuing to do so even after she has shown clear discomfort with it.

cole drags her worst memories and thoughts out publicly in front of not just vivienne, but the rest of the party and anyone else who may happen to be standing near them. it's DANGEROUS, what he does, because vivienne is a player of the game. her position at court is a precarious one, and to have someone like cole who can just pick into her brain whenever he wants with no repercussions? it's scary! it's scary because vivienne has no defense against it, especially if the player supports cole and downplays the harm he does. and what can vivienne do about it? she's an ally of the inquisitor, and that makes her cole's ally by proxy. telling cole to stop doesn't work, insulting him doesn't work, trying to get the inquisitor to intervine doesn't work– nothing seems to deter cole.

which is why THIS piece of dialogue is so important to me:

despite everything i've said above, vivienne still cannot help but care about cole. no matter how dangerous he is, no matter what she was raised to believe, she still cares about him and worries for him. their dynamic is SO interesting to me and i really wish people dug into it a bit more rather than just dismiss it as vivienne being needlessly cruel to cole. it's so much more than that.

[countlessofvoids]

Me somewhere in 2026 when a new God of War game is announced and instead of Atreus or Faye oriented game it's another Kratos prequel

[bueckerscore]

i don’t know if it’s because this is paige’s last season at uconn or because i am graduating this year, but i’ve been thinking about her a lot lately about all she’s achieved and what she means to the game. and today we got an annual mirror selfie and it just made me feel all the feels. i get that this might not be the typical space to talk about basketball, and yall are here for fun and games but paige’s skills and her talent as a baller often get overshadowed by her looks, and it’s frustrating because she’s so much more than that. paige maddison bueckers is the future of women’s basketball, whether people like it or not.

i’ve been watching basketball for almost my entire life, and paige is one of those rare players who truly impact you. she’s not just a talent on the court; she’s a role model for so many people at such a young age and that’s truly not easy to do. balancing all this fame and pressure from the media while still being the best at what she is, is truly incredible to me.

paige is a generational talent. her skill, determination, and leadership on the court are incredible to watch. not only she is consistent and a great scorer, but her vision and basketball iq set her apart from any other player in college basketball. paige’s court awareness and be able to see the game differently (“the game in her head is like a chess match”) in setting up her and making everything flow is beyond amazing to see. she sees things before they happen, if she sees one opposing player take a wrong step It's a shot for her or a teammate which what makes her exiting to watch.

what she’s been through battling injuries, pushing through adversity, and still coming back from a torn ACL to play out of position and go to the final four… mannn

to see her achieve this level of fame and success, knowing that i’ve watched her since she was in high school is emotional. to see her from being on court-side films to cover magazines and big brand deals and winning awards it’s been inspiring. she’s one of the best hoopers out there, and i’ll always appreciate her for everything she’s done for the game.

bring that natty home!!

riding with 5 always

[teruuu]

Exploring The Complexities of The Lamb and Narinder’s Relationship

Long post warningsgsgsgsgsh!!!!!! 🥺🥺

For those of you who want a quick rundown of what the AU’s about, check out the link at the bottom of the post.

Warning: Mentions of Cannibalism, Unhealthy & Obsessive Relationships, and Spoilers for The Art of Acquiring Devotion

Now, firstly, I’ll have to give my thanks to @nimbudcat for providing me with ideas as to how the relationship would function and opening the gateway for me to fully explore all the nooks and crannies of their romance.

I’m no expert on the deep complexities of toxic relationships, so I don’t have the courage to fully label the Lamb and Narinder’s love as ‘toxic’, but I know damn well that it’s not a normal love at all. Let’s think—what is a normal, healthy relationship composed of? Trust, of course. Mutual love and trust, absolute honesty... Those are the most basic building blocks of a healthy relationship. In this AU, for Narinder and Lamb, those concepts are extremely warped. They have all of those components in their relationship, but it’s so twisted that it’s difficult for me to define their romance as either healthy or unhealthy.

Narinder and Lamb trust each other, and it runs so deep that the best descriptor for that trust is pure devotion. They trust each other with their lives. This may not make sense since they are immortals, but think about it—the cannibalism that they inflict upon one another results in death for the two, each and every time, and they trust only one another for their resurrections. They allow the most vulnerable parts of themselves only to one another, and this is so incredibly meaningful because of all the aspects of their pasts. They trust themselves of course to always only tell the truth to each other, and the love that they share is simply reverent.

Now, let me elaborate on why all the things I expanded on above mean so much. Let’s start with the Lamb. I as I said in my previous post, the Lamb’s past for this AU is derived from my fanfic. We don’t know much at all about pre-sacrifice Lamb in-game, so I took the liberties to expand on their world myself. I’ll allow some passages from my fanfic to speak for itself:

It was through these traumatic experiences that the Lamb became hungry at the thought of companionship. No, the Lamb doesn’t just want some of Narinder’s Big Fluffy Gyatt™. As I’ve depicted in my other artworks, in this AU the Lamb considers Narinder as their savior, their one and only salvation, and perhaps the only person that has ever cared about them. And this is where things start to get murky—it’s because of this that the Lamb is so incredibly attached to Narinder and is absolutely insane about him.

The Lamb isn’t just attached, actually. They’re obsessed with Narinder. So obsessed that they develop a panic if they don’t hear his voice after more than half an hour. So obsessed that they begin to see any and all followers that interact with him as an enemy. This is also why I hesitate to consider this as toxic, because, see, Narinder likes it.

Moving on to Narinder’s part of the AU, it’s important to understand that, although he pretty much brought it to himself because of his high and mighty behavior, he was also quite isolated in his earlier years.

For Narinder’s side, he firmly believed himself to always be in the right. Think of it as a mad scientist whose ideas are way ahead of his generation. He had innovative thoughts and concepts in mind in the duration of his reign. He’d been supplemented by the knowledge that Shamura had provided him with, and that caused him to possess the mind of a radical inventor. Unfortunately, his ideas were less than desirable for the rest of his siblings and his own followers, so little by little the worship he received dwindled. Narinder was frustrated by this—why couldn’t anyone see the genius that he had to offer? Initially he had good intentions in mind, but he grew a tyrannical mind and eventually decided that the only way for the world to see his wonders is to force it beneath his feet.

Eons of imprisonment provided no aid for his mind. What once was a head full of wonders that could potentially change the world for the better became a twisted and cruel version of itself. Violence and revenge plagued his mind, and it became his one and only obsession. So, when the Lamb came to him, he relished in the worship they had to offer.

Their devotion for one another is purely mutual, but at the same time fully in their own self-interests. The Lamb is devoted to Narinder because Narinder is all that they care about in their mind, and they desperately require Narinder for them to continue living on. As for Narinder, he had never acquired such a passionate follower before, and he grew an addiction for the love that they have to offer. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or not.

They are incredibly violent for one another because that’s all they know. They don’t understand what it’s like to have a normal relationship. They cling to one another, kill for one another, and eat one another because they need each other so badly. The cannibalism is an expression of their eager desire to simply blend into one another because that’s just how much they want the other.

They know it’s wrong. They hate that it’s wrong. They hate each other for making each other feel so wrong and so crazy. But they so, so want it to be right.

(Okay sorry for the bad essay lmao adios)

[eliza-forget]

PLEASE tell us more about your Leshy and the two cats!!!!! The cats are so pretty and also so is your art. I love your art so so so so so much 💖

Well, I'll start by saying that the Leshy himself in my AU is quite dark, violent, and traumatized. He survived the sudden betrayal of Narinder (as the one he trusted and looked up to most as a child), he survived all the turmoil associated with the fact that faith in the bishops was shaken, I call this period as "shaky", and the whole four were on the verge of losing their authority. And already during the game's storyline, Lamb's campaigns, Heket died. In my Au, which is mostly based on my insane playthrough of the game, Leshy was the last Bishop to be killed by Lamb. I mean, there was this sequence: Heket> Shamura> Kallamar. I have that point actually explained in the storyline, but that's not what the main question is about xd.

In the works, where you see him in the clothes of a follower (yes-yes that red one), has its own meaning. It's like a sign of his acceptance of a new way of life and to some extent, a rejection of the past. In this story, he's processing his traumas, learning the ways and lives of mortals, and then he makes two close friends: those two cats.

In general, I can characterize my Leshy as a personality. He changes slowly, but throughout the narrative in my Au. Leshy is still the Bishop of Chaos, in terms of character, but has softened a bit because of his environment in which he resides.

Tirena

Let me briefly tell you about Tirena's storyline. Her parents were nomads who came from other lands to the lands of the Old Faith. They mostly moved between locations, but eventually stopped at Darkwood.In fact, Tirena's family was loyal to what was happening in the lands and tried to please all the local cruel rules. The turning point of the plot for Tirena came at the time of her coming of age, for which her parents sacrificed themselves to the bishop, and she was given a necklace (but not the one she wears now) in memory of her parents. As a result of which she ran away from the place. Stumbled upon Lamb by accident, from behind a campfire in the night. So in the story, she showed up in his settlement and became a devoted disciple in the future, but still with an unconcealed grudge against the bishops.

In comic, she got into an altercation with Narinder on the same topic.

Yolk (yellow cat)

Yolk's former name was Najulmer, and he changed his name at the settlement. His parents were the same cultists who, long after Leshy's death, continued the resistance. Yolk did not share the same point of view with them; he was more interested in studying the world around him, and specifically its strange inhabitants. So he set out on his wanderings in search of that "paradise" by which he meant the Lamb's settlement. Along the way meeting various companions, studying monsters and even cooking with them. He has already been rescued by Lamb when he was trapped by the treachery of his recent companion. In the settlement he quickly finds contact with Tirena, or rather she has to tolerate his intrusive company. Then Lamb returns from a camping trip and summons Leshy from purgatory and he becomes both a nightmare for Yolk, but and an intriguing object of study. He btw yes, never once saw the bishops and didn't even know that Leshy was one.

Somehow that's what the plot of these three sounds like. I hope it was interesting and informative to learn about them!

[moonstruckme]

omg mae bae happy bday and congrats on 7k wowie! would you do apple pie, ¹⁰⁾ a six pack of beer and an apology, with steve harrington? <3

Thank you lovely <3

cw: alcohol, spin the bottle

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Steve finds you in the kitchen. You’ve procured a pair of scissors from somewhere, and you’re snipping apart those plastic rings that hold together six-packs. You glance up as he comes in but look away quickly, picking another up off the counter. 

“Turtles strangle themselves on these things,” you say. You snip a corner, the sound short and crisp. “I don’t know why we still use them.” 

Steve honestly doesn’t think much about sea animals when he’s drinking a beer, but he wants to agree with you. “Me neither.” 

“It’s like, we’re supposed to be this advanced society. Can’t we come up with something that doesn’t kill turtles?” 

“Mhm. Probably.” 

“I just think it’s dumb.” You push out a breath. It sounds frustrated, but Steve knows you well. You’re more stressed than angry. He’s not patient enough to wait for you to get around to telling him that yourself. 

“What’re you doing in here?” he asks. 

You look up at him again. Shrug. “I was sick of being out there.”

“You wanna go home?” 

“Do you?” 

It’s a fair thing to ask. Steve’s your ride, so leaving these things is usually a joint decision. But he feels like the question is pointed. “Do you think I wanna go home?” 

“I don’t know.” Some of the stress is seeping into your voice now, your terseness taking on a new hue. “You seemed mad.” 

He was mad (is mad?). He just hasn’t figured out if it’s fair for him to be, yet, so he wasn’t planning on making it your business. He thought that would be the nice thing to do, but you don’t seem to appreciate being left out of the loop. 

“Do I seem mad now?” he asks. 

You cut through the last plastic ring with a harsh snap. “Christ, Steve, I don’t know. Why are you asking me all this?” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and though it’s automatic he does mean it. “I’m not trying to be mad at you.” 

Your eyes meet his, crushed before you can hide it. “But you are.” 

“Not—” He sighs, jamming his thumb against his brow bone. It’s an anxious habit, a preventative measure against potential headaches. “Not really. Not in a way that’s important.” 

“I think it’s important anytime you’re mad at me,” you say. Your voice has softened and smalled. Steve feels like his guts are in knots. He wants to make an excuse, to explain—It’s not that I’m actually mad at you. I haven’t decided if I should be. So we’re all good, right? For now, I mean. At least until I decide.—but before he get the chance to further fuck things up you ask, “Can you tell me what you’re mad about?” 

Steve drops his hand to look at you. “You really don’t know?”

You wince, and he thinks you do know. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’m sorry.” 

He feels his brows furrow. “For what to happen?” 

“For it to land on you.” 

“That’s not…it’s spin the bottle. You can’t control who it lands on. That’s the point.” 

You shake your head, almost to yourself. Your fingers are fiddling with the ends of your sleeves. “I shouldn’t have even played. I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have if I’d known that was gonna happen.” 

“What do you keep apologizing for?” Some accidental anger makes its way into Steve’s tone. “Who did you want to kiss?”

You blink. “No one.” 

“Nobody plays spin the bottle unless they want to kiss someone.” 

“Well, I guess I changed my mind.” 

“Why?” 

“Because!” Your voice rises, and you lower it just as quickly. You both glance to the kitchen entryway like the calvary is going to come force you back to that stupid party just because you almost yelled. “Because,” you say, quieter, “it was weird.”

Steve forgets to even try to keep his face in check. He feels it twist with hurt. “It was?” 

“Yes! Everyone was looking at us, and it was like a game—it was a game.” You pull your sleeves over your hands, shoulders winding up tight. “I guess I just feel like that sort of thing should be private.”

Awareness dawns upon him like a slow sunrise. Steve has never been known for his book smarts, but he’s not stupid. He knows what it feels like to be liked. He’s just never known what it felt like to be liked by you. 

A little laugh of disbelief stumbles out of him. “You said ‘ew.’” 

You’d been tipsier and fizzy with excitement when the game had started. Smiling and laughing at everything, your giddiness palpable. When your turn had come, Steve had watched you carefully to see if your eyes did that hopeful flit to someone in the circle, but all your concentration had been on the bottle, your smile slipping just a little as it spun. And landed on him. 

Ew, you laughed. No, c’mon, you can’t make us.

That’s the game, Marcy had reminded you gleefully. As a resister, you now had the attention of most of the circle. It wasn’t Steve’s first time playing. He knew how it went. 

Relax. He’d forced a smile, getting onto his hands and knees to meet you in the middle. It’ll be quick. Not too disgusting.

You’d made a face of humorous unwillingness, your eyes darting around the group as if seeking rescue. Fine, you relented. If it’s not a big deal to you, it’s not to me. 

Steve had done this more than once, but it felt especially awkward with you. Crawling into the middle of a circle of spectators, your hand knocking the bottle so that it clinked and rolled. True to his promise, he kept it brief, a short, painless press of his lips. Hardly enough to feel the impression of yours before you were both pulling away, Steve silent and you spewing a string of nervous giggles. 

You’d left before it was Steve’s turn to spin. 

Now you seem near to ripping the sleeves of your shirt, the material stretched over your curled fingers as you worry your lip. You’re back to not looking at him. “I didn’t mean ‘ew’ at you.” 

It had sure sounded like it. “Then what did you mean?”

“I meant it, like, I didn’t like how things were going.” You laugh at yourself, the sound stymied. “Like ew, we have to kiss in front of everyone, or ew, Chris is watching us way too intently.”

Steve makes a face. “He was?” 

“Is that what you’re mad about?” Something seems to dawn upon you now, too, your expression clearing. “That I said that?” 

He looks at you for a second. “Well, it sounds stupid when you say it out loud.” 

“No it doesn’t,” you say, but you look to be fighting a grin. “I’m sorry, it’s not stupid. I didn’t mean to be mean.” 

“It’s okay,” he says genuinely. 

You shake your head. “I wasn’t thinking. But that’s not what I meant.” 

Steve knows this now, but he teases you anyway. “Are you sure about that?” 

You hesitate only half a second before you catch onto what he’s doing. Your smile starts to win. “I’m sure.” 

“Kissing me doesn’t disgust you?” 

“No.” Your voice is bashful now, but your eyes are steady on his as you take a step toward him. 

The knots in Steve’s guts aren’t getting any looser, though there’s a different kind of commotion going on there now. “I don’t know if I believe you.” 

You reach for each other at the same time, his hands on your ribs and yours on either side of his face, and this time there’s no glass bottles to knock or rules to adhere to or spectators to appease. This kiss isn’t short.

[biowho]

Shadow Dragons Blurb anon - YES that's exactly the one I mean! The little backstory bit when selecting the faction?

Fantastic! (I put the og question in this for anyone else who's confused)

I'm going to break down every part of it because I'm not sure how long you've been playing Dragon Age or how much preexisting lore you know, and I'm wording this like you've never played a DA game before (sorry for any redundancy) Also this is just my take on it so keep that in mind xx

Rook risked everything to liberate the incident people of Tevinter, even though it would anger the ruin elite -> Tevinter was built on and functions upon the back of their slaves' labor. Without it, the empire is nothing. This makes the Shadow Dragons as a concept and an organization a threat to the empire's power

The foundling Rook was adopted into a military family and joined the Shadow Dragons to fight from the shadows for change in Minrathous. -> A foundling is someone who was abandoned as an infant or a very young child and then cared for by the people who found them (which gives the 4 race options an explanation as to why they're in the city...or at least the player the ability to infer one themselves) Minrathous is the capital and largest city in Tevinter and where all the big decisions get made. The military aspect of the Mercar family to me implies Rook's adopted family are Soporati, which is one of the lower classes in Tevinter - members of this class often serve in the military. (The family's rank would be higher if any of them are mages, how many generations of mages the Mercars' have would raise the rank even higher. Personally, I'm interested in what happens if you play as a mage Rook and if no other Mercar has magic and if any of them will be seen outside my AO3)

While guarding a visiting dignitary who was investigating a slavery ring in the nearby city of Nessus, Rook concluded that the mission would fail without throwing caution to the wind. -> Rook was on a job for the Shadow Dragons where they were ment to act as a bodyguard for an unknown man of high rank (my fingers are crossed that it was Dorian) I believe Nessus is a typo and it's supposed to be Nessum, the city featured in Absolution. Whoever the dignitary was, he wasn't able to get the information he needed to uncover/stop the slave ring one way or another so Rook overstepped themselves, disobeying orders to just guard the dignitary to get him to the information he needed by putting him in danger

Alone, they snuck the dignitary deep into Venatori-controlled zones and brought him back, along with the rescued slaves. -> Venatori are blood magic and red lyrium (both not good) using mages which are rotting Tevinter from the top down, They're the main antagonistic force against everything the Shadow Dragons stand for. So, not only did Rook disobey their orders, they led this important official through very dangerous spaces that, if they had gotten caught, would have gotten both of them killed and compromise a part of if not all of their faction. However, the risk of getting the dignitary closer to the ring paid off and every slave was freed, and the dignitary was returned unharmed

These actions brought Rook to the Venatori's attention, and the Shadow Dragons decided to keep Rook out of sight. -> Rook's on a shit list now. The opposition knows what they look like/who they are and has been effectively taken from the shadows and put under a spotlight. I'm assuming the Viper, the leader of the Shadow Dragons, made the call to shelve Rook so no other job would be compromised by them being recognized

[alexxncl]

‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 49 SPOILERS‼️

masterlist | all lessons | season 3 | lesson 48.1 | lesson 48.2 | lesson 49.2

now...

it's CANON that he knows he can't cook

so why the fuck 😭

luke :(((( baby :((((((((

i'm glad simeon is finally opening up though. luke being able to event talk to simeon about (before simeon himself, mind you) this proves that he's more than mature enough to have conversations like this. i love seeing how much he's grown since the beginning of the game

didn't take a screenshot of this bc i can only post 10 pictures per post, BUT i'm glad the fact that raphael showed up out of nowhere wasn't glossed over bc why is he here ??? respectfully

this is why simeon don't talk to nobody 😭 y'all can't take SHIT seriously

but in all honesty i'd just shut down and stop talking bc i get overwhelmed easily

but oh luke...

i hope he takes this as a "hm maybe the celestial realm isn't as good as it seems, maybe things aren't just black and white" instead of immediately jumping to "no simeon's too kind to be a demon bc all demons are mean and they suck", but i feel like the devs are gonna go with the latter simply bc they love giving luke development and then ripping it away seconds later

(for context, the other response was something along the lines of "he really cried his eyes out, huh?")

regardless of how much luke has grown and matured, he's still a kid. like, a kid kid. they cry when they're upset, when they're angry, when they're throwing a tantrum, and when theyre confused and/or overwhelmed. i feel like the latter might be the case with luke, which is why i chose the "i'm sure he'll be ok" option

more on this here

they're making it sound like simeon is queer/trans and honestly...i'm here for it. but that's partially bc i fall under both umbrellas. i love projecting 🫶🏽

i do wish it were this easy to come out and have your family/friends accept you bc it was a doozy for me 🫠

ANYWAYS

angst. give me more. PLEASE

i'm just so so glad that he's actually opening up. in the past, it felt like every time we get a crumb of vulnerability, he'd shut back down and act like everything was okay. idk if it's because he's more comfortable in his identity and place in the world, or his place in mc and the brothers' life, but he's more prone to actually talking about what's bothering him. it makes me happy

...this makes me a little less happy

ik simeon his his qualms with the celestial realm, but all in all, he probably still sees the place as his home and the people there as his family

what if this whole arc ends with the celestial realm opening its gates to (certain) demons? what if the boys get to visit their old home for the first time in literal millenia? and what if they get to show satan around?

idk y'all i'm trying to be hopeful, but hope can only get you so far when it comes to this game 😭

development at its finest

not focusing on a way to "fix" simeon, but to help deal with the situation at hand despite and because of simeon's condition

...ig the angst could only last for so long. back to the nerdy shit

[heart4caitlin]

Y’all are freakkkyyyy (I js know caits the jealous type. Second you get home she’s pushing all up on you whispering how bad she needs you and how horny you made her. She wouldn’t stop until your legs were shaking and she had to hold you down. Afterwards she’d tell you how much she loves you but hates that you made her jealous. Obvi you think the opposite bc a jealous caity means a great night for you.)

i feel like yall are reading my mind because i was just talking to my irl a few days ago about jealous/angry caitlin? especially after that lost against washington?

seeing you talk to anyone, especially someone from the other team, after the game gets her so heated towards you. doesn't even want to speak to you on the way home, just keeping her hand on your thigh while she drives back to yalls place.

the second yall walk into the house, she's all over you. pushing you against the wall as she sucks marks down your neck and eventually your chest just to show everyone else that you're all hers.

like you said, she would not stop until your legs are shaking i swear. she loves hearing you gasp and whine for her as she flicks her tongue against your clit. loves having your hand in her hair, pulling her close in you or trying to push her away because "it's too much," but she knows you can take more than this. she loves to suck on your clit because it makes your hips jerk against her face, her hands holding you down by your thighs, making sure you can't move away from her.

maybe she uses her strap on you, depending on how she's feeling at the time. if she does, then she'll make you cum at least two times on her fingers, sliding against your g spot every time just to hear you whine and push against her. she whispers constantly "you can give me one more, can't you baby?" she wants your back arching as you scream her name while tears are running down your face.

her aftercare is amazing! gently bringing you down from your last orgasm, making sure to not overstimulate too much as she moves away from you. crawling back up to you and pressing her lips against yours, brushing your hair out your face. "did so good, baby, you know that?" she'll whisper sweet praises to you as she helps you out of bed and towards the bathroom to clean you up.

[bigfan-fanfic]

I'd Hammer in the Morning (Male!Reader x Thor)

Part One

"What do you mean, you're quitting?" Tony practically shouts.

"Hey, hey, I didn't say the Q-word."

"But you are."

"I... I'm going to be moving to Asgard, Tony. I can't be your personal assistant from a realm away."

Tony fidgets, swinging an arm in your direction. "A 'realm away?' Look how they've got you talking - you can say 'realm' with a straight face!"

"Please don't make this difficult." you try to get that stern but kind note in your voice that Frigga gets when managing Odin or Thor, but you don't quite get there.

"Fine, I won't. Recharge, I don't accept your resignation."

"Pretty sure it doesn't work that way."

"Don't care." Tony quips petulantly. When Pepper walks in, he immediately bursts out. "Recharge is quitting!"

Pepper smiles at you. "Yes, he is, and we're so excited for you. Congratulations, Y/N."

Tony's jaw drops.

"I know it's short notice, but Tony's going to host your goodbye party before you leave, if that's alright."

"I am?"

She silences him with a look. Oh, there it is.

"Fine, fine..."

And with that, after an all-too-wild party that Pepper does her best to manage, you're ready to leave Midgard as your primary residence.

Thor meets you atop the Avengers Tower, the burning runic circle etched into the helipad, little drones already trying to clear up the ash and cinders.

You run to his arms, excited to see him.

"Did you truly think I would not wish to witness every moment of your arrival to my home? Our home, now." Thor chuckles.

"No, I actually thought I was going to awkwardly have to call Heimdall."

You notice a few other Asgardians are here, glancing around interestedly. "Father is eager for your arrival. He assumed you'd have more... luggage. Insisted I bring porters."

You don't really have much more than a couple large suitcases and a few boxes to contain everything you own. Tony had insisted on digitizing all of your books and movies and games and ensuring you'd have communication and internet even on Asgard with a tiny prism he assured you had a copy of JARVIS on it for your use.

It's his way of showing he cares, because he can't go more than two sentences without snarking, by law, apparently.

"Wait... your father is eager for my arrival? I... I kinda thought Lord Odin wasn't too fond of Midgardians."

"No, he's not disdainful, simply... he worries about me. Our... lifespans."

You balk instinctively, the notion that Thor may long outlive you a little depressing. "Oh."

"But he seems to be much more open. So either he has a plan, or you have simply won him over as a mortal that can wield Mjolnir and learn my mother's seidr."

You do recall Odin becoming more warm to your presence, especially once you got over the hump of learning magic and started to transcend your electrokinesis. Frigga, of course, loves you. "A plan? To, like... deal with my lifespan?"

"Perhaps. Mother mentioned something about a coronation gift."

"Wow, all of this for your boyfriend? They're that eager to have me?"

"All of Asgard is eager. To be completely honest..." Thor chuckles, almost nervously. "I believe they expect a proposal soon."

"Oh." You chuckle a little, almost nervous as well. "And should they?"

"My prince... my king... you know this has been the greatest year of my life. I am more than eager to share all my days with you."

"Thor... I love you too."

"Then perhaps a proposal is not far off at all." He smirks. "Now, are you certain this is all your luggage?"

"Yes. Underwhelming, I know."

"Not at all. It simply means you will have plenty of room for the gifts I will shower you with."

You giggle. And then it hits you that you are truly leaving Earth. You frown softly, looking around as nostalgia crashes over you in waves.

"What ails you, my love?"

"Just... it's suddenly very hard to leave."

Thor takes you in his arms and kisses you. "I swear that as long as the Bifrost stands, I shall take you to Midgard whenever you wish."

You kiss him back. "You're sweet. But... it's just the change. It's always a big moment. But I'm not leaving home, not really. I'm coming home. To you. To Odin and Frigga. Even to Loki."

Thor grins. "Truly, you think of my misguided brother as your family?"

You nod. "Frigga and I have been taking lessons outside his cell lately as part of his rehabilitation."

His eyes shine with something surpassing gratitude and admiration.

"My king... allow me the honor of bringing you home."

And in a flash of rainbow and lightning, he does.

[just-a-ghost00]

No contact : what the heck is going on?

Pick one or several of the following emojis to find out about your reading content. This reading is going to be a bit unusual because the deck I am using is actually a game for children. A card represents a word or an idea. There is just the image. No words, no numbers. So based on the image combinations you get, I will try to channel the messages meant for you to hear.

1 📣 2 🎰 3💥 4💫

Group 1 📣

The person you were thinking of may have put a hold on the connection to take care of themselves. They are currently traveling or they intend to. They need to recharge their batteries. This person has been giving a lot of their time and efforts to make other people happy. They are exhausted. They wish to rest and indulge in some leisure time. They wish they could stop being a door mat for everyone to walk on. They feel like they can’t express their true self. They are tired of pretending like everything is fine. They feel like they can’t afford rest. When it comes to you and the connection, this person gets cold feet. They don’t know what to do or where to go. What is going on around them takes so much space in their life that they don’t have much energy left to spend with you. To them you are like that pot of jelly or that warm chocolate bowl : so sweet and tempting, so vital. You bring them comfort and a sense of home but at the same time they are scared of what that means. They are running out of gas. They may be Dre pressed or going through a burn out. Hence the lack of communication. They are trying to get back on track by stepping away for a time. They don’t want you to see that side of them.

Group 2 🎰

The person you were thinking of could be an artist and/or enjoys partying. This person could have recently been on a trip. The reason why there is no contact at the moment is because they are either sick and/or injured. If not, this person needed to heal something or someone. With the chick and the trumpet player, I get the message of someone being a bit vulnerable but wanting to show no weakness and appear stronger. The chick also reminds me of communicating. Because birds always chirp, this makes me think of throat chakra. With the hospital, I get the idea of someone have throat ache or issues related to their voice. They may have needed to take time off to undergo a surgery or to get a medical appointment. With the car and the horse, I get the idea of someone being restless. Wanting to get away from this situation quickly and get back to business. I also get the energy of someone being reckless. Maybe this person got injured practicing a physical activity. The combination of the matching game, the guitar and the necklace, I get the message of someone wanting to connect the dots and get closer to what is meaningful to them. Music is precious to this person and so are you. If they can’t communicate with you properly, this person will use music to convey their feelings.

Group 3 💥

Seeing the butter card I immediately thought of BTS lmao Once again there are music references in a reading. Also, either one or both of you may be French, wants to go to or has been in France. To be honest with you, there is a lot of chemistry and sexual tension going on. This person is refraining from contacting you in an attempt to resist temptation. That ain’t working well lmao Cause they are running in circles and really wanting to jump on the first occasion they get to interact with you. You might invite this person for your birthday or they are waiting for your birthday to surprise you with something. The combination of the cherries and the lace gives me really sensual vibes. They may want to get closer to you and the way they do it may be a bit rough 😂 With the firefighter and the lit birthday cake, I feel like they wish they weren’t so attracted to you. They wish they could extinguish whatever is going on because it eats them alive. The last card on the bottom right makes me think that you or this person could be working with children or wants children. This person is attracted to your soft side and your childlike personality which may be something you have in common. The fox makes me think that they are prying on you frequently. Even if they don’t talk to you, they closely watch you.

Group 4💫

The person you are thinking of lives at a distance from you. This person is afraid of falling in love and being intimate with you. A part of them wants to make a move but another would rather safely hide away. They wish that they were more courageous and that this connection would be more fruitful. They are aware of your needs for communication and more substance. If they could, they would run straight to you. But there are annoying flies surrounding the connection. Meaning, people are getting in the way, buzzing in their ear about what they should or shouldn’t do, about what they think of you. This person misses you. They think of you. They know your plate is missing on the table. They feel empty without you around. But in order to see clearly and cut the noise, they had to get away. This person needs to isolate in order to determine what their needs are and listen to their own voice instead of the constant buzzing and chirping of others. They need to determine in this cacophony of opinions, what is essential to them. Only then can they make a move.

[kindaorangey]

"are you asking me or making me?" is soooooo interesting to me because i think armand only asks it when he can't gauge whether he's letting louis down. it's barely even sexual - it's a hail mary. it's a show of trust, indirectly admitting that he wants to do something other than what louis expects of him, but that he's willing to obey louis anyway, for the sake of their relationship. it's sort of heartbreaking watching them at the sacré-cœur, because if louis had said "i'm making you" armand would've done it in a heartbeat. he would've taken it as a show of committment on louis' part, and he wouldn't have betrayed him. but louis takes the question just as an expression of disagreement, and so he doesn't play the game. ironically, he respects armand's independence too much to make him turn madeleine if he doesn't want to. and so armand isn't convinced of louis' commitment to him, and he betrays him.

and by the time we see them in san fransisco, louis knows what the question means now, and answers "no, arun, i'm not asking" without question. and armand accepts it without complaint, even as it pains him. companionship really is the most important thing in the world to armand, just like it is for lestat, and he's willing to do any number of horrible things to louis and himself just to keep him as a companion, just like lestat. louis' biggest mistake is not realising how to use that to his advantage sooner.