#gonna spend most of it napping )

[aberooski]

Oh I don't know what it is,

But there's something buried way down deep inside me,

And it feels like magic.

(Click for higher quality)

The team is complete! Now featuring Blair, Jasmine, Mindy, and a revamped Alexis!

Blair - Fairy of Love

Jasmine - Fairy of the Raging Wind

Mindy - Fairy of the Shimmering Stars

Alexis - Fairy of Frost

I wasn't originally going to do any of the other girls, I didn't think I had it in me, but I wanted to do more of this art so bad and I felt bad leaving Alexis at Alfea by herself so here we are!

I even decided to not just draw Alexis with them but also revamp her Enchantix at the last minute because the other girls were totally outdoing her, especially in the wings department and we can't have that! I mean all I really did was reshape her wings and add a tiara but still lolol 🤭💕

1 | 2 | 3

[ridiculously-over-obsessed]

I swear, this is the last ever New Year that I ring in with people who don't value me or my time and efforts. This is the last year that I spend the holidays etc feeling utterly despondant and miserable. This is the last time I spend the 2 weeks that encompass Christmas, New Years, and my birthday with my cunt of a mother and sister. They have had almost 25 of them in some way or another, and this is their last. I'm done.

[meteorswrd]

sorry i haven't been around much lovies ! back in uni you know what that means 👊👊💥💥back to that MOTHERFUCKIN GRIND ‼️‼️

BUT i want to get my info pages for S0kka and Haru ( @nagititiis follow me there rn ) tonight..thats what i'm aiming for

[dreamcast-official]

good night everybody

[happywitch416]

Don't need a knight to guard the cave

Can't count the dragons that I've slayed

You can give it all you got

'Cause love is running through my veins

Oh, this lion can't be tamed

There's fire in my blood

- Burn by 2WEI and Edda Hayes

[heylinfanclub]

Every day I don’t spend rent money on baldurs gate is a monument to SELF RESTRAINT 🥺 (I have adhd this is anguish).

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.8 a little cottage on the countryside

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 & drinking 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, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 8/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 13.5k (...i'm gonna go take a nap lol)

a/n. hello hellooo my dear kickoff readers, hope you're having a nice day so far! this is the longest chapter yet, so i hope you enjoy <3 it's also got one of my favorite tropes everrr hehehehe you could probs guess what it is halfway through. see you at the bottom and happy reading! sorry if there are typos i didn't proofread this one as much as the others haha

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

You don’t cry much these days, but when you do, it’s usually out of nowhere. 

Like now, as you stand in the school’s photo lab, developing the shots that you took for UTokyo’s game against Osaka last week, and you have to swipe at the tears on your cheek threatening to fall all over the captured images of grass, benches, nets, banners, stands, and him. 

One of the photographs catches your eye, and you pick it up from the table. It’s a candid moment you took of Gojo on the field right before you confessed to him. You had spotted him first while the team was doing their warm-up, and you thought he looked nice from the way he had that concentrated look on his face that you’ve learned to love. But right before you clicked the shutter, he had turned away, chasing after the ball, and so all you could capture was his back facing you as he looked off ahead into the distance. You wondered if that was how it’s always been this whole time–with you looking at him while he’s looking off at something else. It was a depressing thought, but your mind had a tendency for sadness since that day.

The sound of the photo lab door opening jolts you back to reality, and you quickly straighten your posture and wipe your cheek with your sleeve, trying to sniffle as discreetly as possible, then set the picture down. Your fellow film major greets you quietly, asking if you’re still using the developer liquid, to which you say no, then hand it over to them. You stuff your photographs into a folder and head out the door.

You make it across campus to the Film & Media Studies building, then up to the third floor where your professor's office is. His door was ajar, but you still knocked before entering.

He looks up from the photographs he was grading. “Oh, y/n, hello. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you, yourself?” you ask, taking a seat on the chair that was fixed to face his desk. You pull your tote bag into your lap.

“Great, thanks. How can I help you?”

You slide the folder to him over the scraped, worn burgundy wood of his desk. “I still had to turn in my photos for the assignment due last week. I appreciate the extension.”

“Ah, right,” he says, taking the folder from you. “I’ll get around to grading them. I’m curious, what did you end up choosing for your subject matter?” He tucks the folder underneath the pile that was to his side.

“I took photos of the soccer team’s game against Osaka Uni on Thursday last week,” you tell him.

He frowns at you. “Film cameras don’t have that level of zoom, though. I do hope you followed the rubric guidelines for central object to frame ratio, otherwise I’ll have to take off points.” 

“Oh– I did. I took the photos from the sidelines,” you tell him, panicking already. 

His eyes widened. “From the sidelines? On the field?”

You nod at him, fidgeting with your bag in your lap.

“Wow, I can’t say I’ve ever had a student take photos like that before. That’s pretty challenging to pull off, though,” he says, sitting up straighter, “...you mind if I take a look at them right now?”

You shake your head. “Oh, no. Not at all.”

He pulls your folder out from the bottom of the pile, then gently slips the photos out of them, rearranging them all across his desk. He leans down closer to study some of them, tilting his head curiously at others, furrowing his brow in concentration to a select few. “These are incredible.”

You take in a deep breath. “Thank you, professor.”

He nods at you with acknowledgement, and you watch him as he studies the images quietly for another minute, then looks up at you. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asks when he notices you’re still seated.

“Ah…yes, there was something I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?” He taps his pen on the desk.

“I was wondering if you could write me a letter of recommendation for the film graduate program.”

He nods, like he was expecting the question. “Yeah, of course. Just send me your resume and portfolio.” He taps eagerly on one of your images. “Please send me digitals for these, too.”

You let out a relieved exhale. “Yes, I will. Thank you so much, professor, I really appreciate it.”

You left the building feeling extremely relieved about your professor agreeing to write your recommendation, but also feeling sad because you couldn’t tell Gojo about it, since this was the full-circle moment for the little arrangement the two of you had. There’s a thought that considers texting him, and you take out your phone then go to his name, but your thumbs just can’t bring yourself to send him a message.

The days of the week go by in a blur, and between every single little moment in life, your mind always wanders to him. It’s hard to get over someone when you’re surrounded by them. Like late at night while you’re editing the digitals of the game last week to send to your professor, and you find yourself staring at the pictures you’ve taken of him. It’s hard to get over him when the school worships the soccer team and you’re forced to see promotional banners and posters all over campus with his stupidly beautiful face in them. You didn’t have the heart to block him on Instagram, because you remember that time he teased you about how you didn’t follow him back, and you wonder if it would make him sad if you blocked him, so you just resorted to deleting the app instead. And although you were the one that asked for space from him, you were growing increasingly annoyed at how good he seemed to be at keeping it. 

The library wasn’t even much of a safe space either, since you overheard a group of girls the other day at a table arguing about which of the players on the team is the hottest, and so you find yourself doing your homework on a lovely Wednesday morning at your apartment instead. 

You lean back in your chair and look up at the ceiling, and then jump when you hear your phone ring, quickly turning it over to read the caller ID. Nobara. You accept the call, placing her on speaker, then set your phone back down on your desk. 

“Hey, Nobie, what’s up?”

“Hey, nothing much. Just wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out,” she says.

“Oh, I would love to, but I’m working on homework right now. It’s due in a couple of hours,” you sigh.

“Boo, you whore. For what class?”

“My stats 130 elective,” you say. “I’m a film major, why do I need to know statistics?” You tap your pen to your chin. “Actually, it might be valid.”

“Is that the class with the creepy professor?” she asks. “The one that got caught with a PornHub tab open while he was presenting his lecture slides.”

“Yeah.”

“I took his class last semester! I still have all my homework for it,” she exclaims on the other end, “do you want me to send it over?”

“Yes, omg, I could kiss you right now,” you groan, resting your head on your arm sprawled across your desk in exhaustion.

“So definite no to hang out?” 

“Sorry, I’ll reach out later though,” you sigh, “also, my car is still in repair…apparently something came up with the engine. So we can’t go far unless we invite Mina.”

“That’s fine, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to come if we invite her just to chauffeur,” she says sarcastically. “By the way, how’d the pictures come along? For the newsletter?”

You lift your head up off of the desk in a panic. Shit. You were so focused on turning in your digitals of the game to your professor that you totally forgot you were supposed to send them to Utahime as well. “Oh my god, I forgot. When do they finalize the release again?”

“Isn’t it today at noon? I sent over film club’s photos this morning,” she says. 

You glance at the time. 11:56am. 

“Nobara, I’ve gotta go. I need to call Utahime, sorry,” you say. She acknowledges you, telling you to hurry, and then you hang up.

You call Utahime and scribble down on a sticky note to paste on your wall as a reminder to buy her a loving gift basket one of these days because of course she extends the release deadline just for you. You finish touching up the digitals and then send them to her via email, and after you finish your statistics homework, she calls you again to meet up somewhere nearby.

“Thanks so much for coming here,” Utahime says as she sits across from you at one of the local cafes you frequent. “Also, this chai latte is so good, I’m honestly surprised.”

You nod at her. “This place has great drinks.” You slide a folder across the table to her and she sets her drink down to accept it.

“Sorry if it was a hassle, but I just had to ask for physicals of these photos,” she sighs as she pulls them out. “They’re amazing, seriously, I gasped when I saw them. I’m used to sifting through a lot of professional sports photos for the newsletter, for all of the teams on campus, but I’ve never seen photos as charming as these. It could be the film photography aspect, since most of the ones I see are digital, but I’m seriously shocked you could capture shots like this at a rowdy men’s soccer match.”

You’re shaking your head at her. “Please don’t compliment me so much, I’ll cry. And it’s no issue, I had a spare set of physicals from when I developed them. You can keep them.” 

She smiles at you. “Okay, well then, I think it goes without saying that I’ll definitely be including them for the sports recap this week. I’ll send you the money soon, too.”

You clap your hands together and interlock your fingers. “I’m. So. Grateful. For. You.” 

She laughs across from you and takes another sip of her latte before sitting back slightly, glancing at the photos spread across the table. “Hm…how busy are you for the rest of the semester?”

You tilt your head at her and bring your coffee to your lips, taking a sip before setting it back down. “Not terribly busy, I quit my job last month so I’m just taking my assignments as they come and go.”

Utahime nods at you, a thoughtful expression on her face, and she smooths down the fabric of her shirt. “Okay, well, I got an email from the school this morning that one of the newsletter photographers for the men’s soccer team is moving to a different city, so they’re looking to fill in the position as soon as possible and they asked if I knew anyone,” she mentions, resting her elbow on the table and then placing her hand on her cheek. “They usually only hire professionals, but if I put a word in for you, they’d probably offer it to you.”

Your eyes widen at her from across the table, heart beating a bit faster in your chest. 

“They pay really well for a part-time job. It’s essentially full-time pay for part-time hours,” she continues, “but it’s probably because you’ll have to travel with the team to their away games, including unofficial matches and conferences. If you’re not that busy for the next two months, then I think it’d be a good opportunity for you to build experience.” 

You purse your lips together, considering her words. Although it’s a bit different from your long-term career plans, it was still a great way to get experience before graduate school. And besides, you needed the money, considering you quit your job last month and your savings were starting to run thin–never mind the fact that your car repair bill went from a few thousand yen to somewhere in the tens-of-thousands. And you would prefer to still be able to afford rent. Oh, and eat. Possibly still pay for Netflix.

But then there was the fact that having that kind of job meant that you would be spending a lot of time with the soccer team, and therefore increases the chances of running into Gojo. And you’re supposed to be staying away from him to get over your feelings. 

“It sounds like an amazing opportunity, really,” you start, “...but I can’t.”

Utahime frowns at you and sits up straight. “Really? I thought you’d be excited. Why not?”

You sigh. “It’s complicated.”

“y/n…” Utahime starts, “I don’t really know what’s going on in your head right now, but isn’t this your dream? For your work to reach people? I know it’s only a stepping stone, believe me I know very well the path to becoming any sort of artist is an uphill battle of hell, but I’ve known you for a while now. And I know how much your dreams mean to you, and how hard you’re willing to work for them.”

Your heart swells in our chest at Utahime’s words. She was right, and you were starting to get really sick of letting your fears hold you back from what you really wanted in life. “...you’re right, I’m sorry. I’d love to be considered for the position, if you could recommend me.”

She smiles and nods at you. “Will do.”

–

The email for the job offer comes surprisingly fast, and you quickly read through it before accepting. It wasn’t a horrible time commitment, given you’d only have to take pictures during active play during matches, give or take a couple hours before, and the photographers rotate between who takes up each of the conferences so the work was split up. You were able to meet a few of the newsletter photographers & journalists during the game last week, so you already knew some of them. The offer letter came attached with a full calendar of the soccer team’s practice schedule, official match schedule, unofficial match schedule, conference schedule, and other publicity schedule, and you’re shocked at how busy all the players must be. The fact that they still have time to be students–and for most of them, active participants in fraternities–was honestly beyond you. 

It seemed like they only had four more official matches left, two being away matches, along with a couple of unofficial matches that they may or may not participate in depending on how the season goes for them. 

Their next game was on Friday against Kyoto university, and you were scheduled to shoot for their sports conference the day following as well. So you find yourself on a train embarked for the countryside, and you peer out of the window with a nervous feeling in your stomach. The sparkling skyscrapers and bustling crowds of Tokyo gradually started to give way into sights of expansive lush greenery, picturesque and charming towns, and winding rivers surrounded by trees. The closer you got to Kyoto, the sky became more gray until a steady drizzle began to fall against the train window. When you reached the final station, the rain had dissipated, and the taxi ride to the hotel was only about fifteen minutes. The journey felt exhausting, and you were so incredibly ready to pass out in a comfy bed. 

You stood underneath a small sidewalk roof near the vending machines lining the outside of the hotel, trying to keep your bag and suitcase with all your equipment in it dry from the remnant soft mist of rain still lingering in the air.  

“Hey, Utahime, sorry to bother you so late,” you say, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear, “but is it the Hilton on 3rd street? Or on Main? Because if it’s the one on Main, then I may have messed up-”

You stop speaking when you hear a masculine voice down the road towards the left, echoing off of the lined up small shops along the sidewalk, and your heart could have recognized the sound anywhere. You’re swift to turn and face that direction, almost dropping your phone in the process, and you see him– the object of all your suffering lately. 

Gojo stood there, wide-eyed and stopped completely in his tracks as the recognition of you under the dim street lighting flashes across his face. He’s in pajamas– a red long-sleeve cotton shirt that looks so stupidly soft and comfortable it almost makes you emotional, with some matching checkered red pants. It was the most casual clothing you’ve ever seen him in. His hair appears damp, slightly tousled, from what you could assume was an effort to dry it off fast. And he had crocs on. In sports mode. You make a mental note to ask him about his charms and if he’s willing to trade any of them with you. But maybe some other day. When it doesn’t hurt to think about him.

“y/n?” he calls your name out, astonished. He’s looking at you like he’s just seen a ghost but in the best way possible. 

You blink at him, heart skipping a beat just from the mere sight of him, and when you hear Utahime’s voice on the line you’re shaken out of your trance. “Oh, sorry, I’m still here. I…I think I just had my question answered. Thank you, have a good night.” You pull your phone down, gaze lingering on your screen for way too long because you can’t brave yourself to look over at the man to your left, and you end the call.

There’s the sound of remnant puddles of water splashing as he takes a few steps closer to you, and you can see his reflection in the water of the one in front of you. The expression on his face matches the one that was there when you last saw him outside of the UTokyo stadium at the west side exit. It’s an expression you could still see every time you close your eyes.

Finally turning to face him, you purse your lips together. “Hi.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asks, voice laced with confusion and you see him take in your appearance with eager flicks of his gaze all around, like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him right now.

“Satoru!” another familiar voice calls out. “Did you get the orange-flavored ones too? Choso’s a fucking idiot and got the grape ones instead. I hate those. They taste like medicine. And ass. Not that I would know what–” You see Geto emerge from the darkness to Gojo’s side, and now he’s looking at you with a surprised look too. “Oh, it’s y/n. What are you doing here?”

“Hey, you two,” you chirp, trying to act as if an entire world of awkwardness wasn’t being exchanged between you and Gojo right now, for the sake of hoping that Geto wasn’t a very good judge of energy. “I’m here to take pictures of the soccer team.”

Your eyes flicker to Gojo, who is still looking at you like he’s never seen a person before. 

“Oh, is it for another one of your assignments?” Geto asks. 

“No, it’s not. It’s for the newsletter,” you explain to him, “I guess it’s my job now.”

There are a few more distant footsteps that follow behind the two of them, with the crinkling noises of plastic bags hitting against thighs echoing through the streets, and eventually they catch up. You see Nanami and the UTokyo team’s goalie, you believe his name is Choso, arrive at this little gathering that was taking place outside of the hotel.

“That’s awesome!” Geto exclaims. “I’m sure the newsletter will lead to a lot of exposure.”

“Who reads the newsletter?” Choso asks. 

Geto nudges him with his elbow. “Dude.”

“What?”

He then fills Choso in on the conversation, “Oh, my bad.”

“Don’t worry, y/n, I read the newsletter,” Geto says, “I read it like the morning paper.”

“It only comes out once a week, but nice try,” you respond, giving him a weary look.

Nanami crosses his arms. “I actually do happen to read it,” he says, “although I refrain from the soccer section. Feels rather egotistic to read it. I find the campus politics section to be enjoyable, though.”

The rest of you exchange annoyed glances at that.

“Satoru reads the soccer section,” Geto says, slinging an arm around him, “‘cause he’s full of himself.”

For a moment, Gojo remains silent, while his teammates, who had been observing him with amused expressions, gradually shift to awkward blinking, like they were expecting him to complain, or say something sarcastic, or joke around by now.

“I do read it,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “I saw the release from yesterday. Your pictures were stunning.”

You’re flustered from the way he’s looking at you. “Thanks.” 

Choso opens the plastic bag he was holding, peering down into it. “Shit. Ice cream’s melting, guys.”

“Yeah, we should probably head back to the rooms,” Geto looks at you, “do you want any snacks?”

“Oh, no. I’m good. I was just about to go check-in,” you say to them.

The boys politely say bye to you, and Gojo mentions something about staying back for a bit and hands Nanami the plastic bag he was carrying before they head back into the hotel. And then the two of you are alone under this roof, drops of water falling from it in between the two of you. He takes a step towards you, and you instantly stiffen. He seems to notice because he sighs and then walks past you to the vending machine that was next to you, pulling out some spare change from his pocket and inputting it into the machine.

“Do you want anything to drink?” The machine feeds him something, and he crouches down to pick it up before standing up again.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” you say, hand clutching the handle of your suitcase. 

He cracks the can of his soda open. “So, you’re going to be traveling with us for the newsletter now?” he asks, so concisely, like he felt that every word comes with a tax.

“Yeah.”

“We don’t have to act like we’re strangers.”

You turn to face him. “What should we act like then?”

There’s a hesitant look in his expression as he looks down at his feet and then back up at you. “Can’t we at least be friends?”

The question softens you at your core, the tone of his voice sounding genuine. Being friends with him sounds so nice, and you kind of wish that’s what you two always were. Just friends. Maybe it would have avoided all of this heartache. But deep inside you knew that just being friends with him wasn’t an option anymore, at least not for now. “No, sorry. That’s just a recipe for disaster. I have to go check-in now.”

You grab your tote bag from the bench, grip tight onto your suitcase handle and make your way splashing across the shallow puddles then through the hotel’s automatic doors into the warmth of the lobby. 

The lighting inside was warm and there were moderately high ceilings adorned with vintage-looking chandeliers. Around the perimeter, there were amenities including a cozy lounge with a fireplace, a small bar serving cocktails, as well as a business lounge with booths and multiple TVs mounted to the walls playing the local news. It made you feel like you were on vacation, and getting to a hotel at this hour while on vacation always meant that you were about ready to pass out on some freshly washed and tucked white linen sheets after taking a nice warm shower with a lavender-scented mini soap bar.

Making your way through the maze of plush seating areas, you get to the concierge desk to check-in. There was a professionally-dressed woman with a slicked-back bun standing there behind the counter, her eyes scanning the computer screen in front of her, and a big, burly man that stood behind her wearing all black that appeared to be security.

“Hello, I’m here to check-in,” you say, placing your forearm on the cold black counter.

The lady doesn’t look up from the computer screen. You clear your throat.

“Oh, hello. Name on the reservation?” she asks you.

You take a look down at your phone screen. The reservation was still under the name of the person that had recently quit the job. “Yui Ishikawa.”

The lady behind the counter hums to herself, obnoxiously tapping at the keyboard with only one of her index fingers. She was chewing gum. “Hm. Don’t see that name here.”

“What?” You squint at your phone and refresh the page, then turn it to face her. “But it’s on your official booking site. There was email confirmation too.”

She glances at your phone screen then taps at the keyboard again, still obnoxiously loud, but she uses her other index finger this time. “Yeah, still nothing.”

“This has to be some kind of mistake,” you say to her.

She looks up at you with an annoyed expression. “Do you want to take a look at the screen? See for yourself.” She turns the monitor to face you. 

You don’t even work here, but you could see clear as day on their interface software that there was a reservation for this Yui Ishikawa woman at this time tonight. You point at it. “It’s right there. The reservation is literally right there.”

She turns the screen back to herself and squints at it. “Oh. Well, unfortunately, we already gave that room to someone else. Since it wasn’t there on our system a half hour ago.”

“What? How is that fair?” You were starting to get seriously annoyed. That refreshing shower you were dreaming of was starting to sound more of a need than a want with every passing minute. “Can you give me another room?”

“No, sorry, we’re all booked for tonight,” she tells you, without offering any additional help.

You look at her baffled. The big burly man behind her has now taken an interest in the conversation as well. “Okay…can you tell me if there are any hotels nearby that I could stay at?”

“Look. This is the countryside, ma’am, there are only a handful of hotels in this area that aren’t tourist accommodations. It’s also the night before a men’s college soccer match, and there seems to be some business seminar taking place nearby too. You can call and check, but the closest hotel this large is about an hour away,” she tells you. 

“What? An hour away? I can’t afford a cab ride like that,” you tell her.

“Unfortunately, that isn’t really my problem,” she says.

You blink at her. “Are you being serious? This is ridiculous.”

“Ma’am, we’re going to have to ask you to leave if you can’t comply with our booking rules,” she declares.

“Leave?! You’re the ones that messed up the booking!” You’re yelling now, a few heads turning from the bar at the back. Exhaustion was pulsing through your veins and your filter was slipping. “Do you have any idea how to do your damn job?”

The woman guffaws at you. “Alright, that’s it.” She snaps her fingers, and you watch as the big, burly man walks around the counter of the concierge desk to make his way to you.

You take a step back, watching in horror as he towers over you and grabs onto your arm. “Let’s leave without any issues, miss,” he says in a deep voice.

“What?! But– hey, that’s my suitcase! Don’t– wait–”

“Woah, woah, woah,” you hear a familiar voice call out from the left. “What’s going on here?”

The three of you turn your heads in the direction of the voice, and you see Gojo, still clad in those ridiculously soft-looking pajamas, doing a light jog up to the counter.

The woman at the reception desk straightens herself up immediately, and she pets down on her dress and fixes her hair at the mere sight of him. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Nothing to see here, sir! Just a crazy woman that can’t comprehend hotel establishment rules.”

“That crazy woman just so happens to be my wife,” he says, pulling the big burly man’s hand off of your arm.

All three of you look at him dumbfounded. 

“Y-Your wife?” the woman asks, sounding equally surprised and disappointed. “But she’s complaining about the fact that she doesn’t have a room.”

“I know, she does that all the time,” he sighs, “she’s got–...early-onset…dementia. Sweetheart, what did I tell you about packing up all your things and leaving the room when I’m not watching you?”

You give him a what the fuck look. He scowls at you to just play along.

“So…she’s with you?” the woman asks.

Gojo nods. “She always forgets that we’ve already booked a room together. Just a silly little sickly lady. Isn’t that right, honey?” He’s holding your shoulders and making you face the concierge woman.

“Y-Yes…” you say awkwardly, trying to put on a smile.

“So, if you could forgive her behavior,” he says with a super pleading voice, pulling you into him so your back is flush against his front side. “I’ll keep her in check from now on.”

The woman lets out a scoff in disbelief. “Alright…just don’t let her out again.” You send her a nasty look. The big burly man lets out a hmph and steps away from you. 

“Sure thing. Let’s go, honey,” Gojo says, grabbing the handle of your suitcase in one hand and your upper arm in his other, dragging you with him across the lobby to the elevators. It isn’t until he’s pressed the up button and you finally gain your footing again after stumbling a few steps that you yank away from his grip.

“What are you doing?” you hiss at him, feeling embarrassed.

He looks down at you with a raise of his eyebrow. “Saving you from getting kicked out of the only decent hotel within a thirty-mile radius?”

“I didn’t need your help, I had the situation under control,” you mumble, smoothing out the layers of your clothing.

“Yes. That’s exactly what that looked like,” he muses as the elevator door opens and he steps inside, taking your suitcase with him as hostage. You panic at the sight and step inside with him, the door closing behind you. 

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“To my room,” he says, pressing a button on the control pad, “you couldn’t get one, right?”

Your eyes widen. “No…I couldn’t.” 

Gojo’s room is on the fourth floor, eleven units down to the right, and you follow him with dragging feet all the way down. Once he makes it in front of the door and takes the keycard out of his pocket, he pauses and looks over at you. “Waiting for you to thank me.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “For what?”

He’s waving the card in the air tauntingly. “You look exhausted as hell right now. I’m the one with the access to a nice hotel vanity and a soft, warm bed,” he practically purrs the words.

You’re instantly folding. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, honey,” he chimes, pressing the card to the reader.

“Stop calling me that,” you grumble as he opens the door for you.

You step into the room, rolling your suitcase inside with you, and take a look around. There was a single bed with the headboard up against the left-side wall, a nightstand on both sides and a desk where you noticed Gojo had his laptop open and a few books out. The bathroom was to the right, and there was a long table that had a coffee machine as well as the TV on top of it.

You place your suitcase against the wall then turn around, standing only a few feet from the entrance of the room, to find Gojo still standing outside in the hallway.

“Do you have to go somewhere?” you ask him. “Why are you just standing there?”

“Oh, I don’t need any of my other stuff,” he says to you, tapping at his pocket where you can see the imprint of his wallet, “room’s all yours.”

Your eyes widen at him. “Wait…are you going to sleep somewhere else?”

He tilts his head at you, as if that was obvious. “Yeah, I was going to go crash on the couch in Suguru’s room or something.”

“But–” you start, stopping yourself. 

He’s waiting for you to speak, but you can’t.

“Well…good night, then,” he says and he turns to the side, about to walk down the hall, when you reach out and grab the sleeve of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks.

This was a bad idea. You’re supposed to be putting distance between the two of you right now, so that you can get over him. This was a man that very clearly said he didn’t have feelings for you. But honestly, you missed him. You missed him so damn much this past week, and you can only be strong for so long. 

“You have an important match tomorrow,” you say quietly, “you should be getting a good night’s rest. We’ll share the bed.”

He turns to face you, looking down at where you were pinching the fabric of his shirt, which was just as soft as you had imagined, and he glances up to meet your gaze once again. “I’m…really confused right now.”

“What if you guys lose and are booted from the competition, and I have to spend the rest of my life regretting the fact that the reason the school lost a 12-year championship streak is all because I made you sleep on a couch?” you ask him.

He takes a step towards you. “You really want me to stay?” His voice was low.

“Yes,” you say. “We’re mature adults. Despite everything, we can just…share a bed for one night, right?”

He’s silent for a moment. “I think you trust me a little too much.”

Your face felt hot. “Are you telling me that I shouldn’t?”

“I’m telling you that you should really think this through,” he says.

“Just stay. Please.” The tone to your voice came off much more desperate than you would’ve liked.

He looks at you like the last thing in the world he could say right now was no. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Positive?”

“Satoru.”

“Okay,” he says, walking past you into the room, like he wasn’t really in the mood to argue about it anymore.

You sigh, sulking your shoulders a little bit, and watch as he takes a seat at the desk and continues to click through things on his laptop, occasionally sipping on the cup of coffee he had made for himself, as if your presence here was no unnatural thing. 

This all felt so domestic for you. This feels like the most intimate the two of you have been with one another, despite the fact he’s literally made you cum with his tongue before. 

“Who drinks coffee at this hour?” you ask, crouching down to unzip your suitcase, opening it up to find your cosmetics bag and a fresh pair of clothes to change into.

“Caffeine doesn’t really affect me anymore.” His eyes were still stuck on his laptop screen.

“You sound dead inside,” you comment, standing back up straight. You step over your suitcase that was on the floor and head into the bathroom, about to close the door but you open it enough to peer over at him from inside. “I’m going to take a shower,” you announce.

You see him poke his tongue to his cheek, leg bouncing up and down underneath the desk, and he squints at his laptop screen like there’s something so damn important that he must concentrate on or else the entire universe would collapse inside of a black hole. “Cool. Have fun.”

“I will.” 

“I’m glad.”

“No peeping.”

“There’s a lock on the bathroom door. Feel free to use it.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” And then you’re shutting the door. 

It felt nice to freshen up, especially after that long journey, and then you’re doing your skincare in the mirror while you’re wrapped in a towel, trying to forget the fact that the man you quite seriously have immense feelings for is somewhere outside that door just a few feet away in this small hotel room. You spray a spritz of your perfume onto your skin, something there’s literally no point in doing before bedtime, but you still do it…for no particular reason at all, obviously. 

When you step back out into the room, Gojo’s eyes are instantly on you from where he stood near the closet. He takes in your appearance and lets out a laugh, looking at you with amusement.

“What?” you ask.

“You look so cute,” he says, “with your little sloth pajamas.”

You’re fully blushing as you make your way over to the armchair in the room to set your cosmetics bag down on it to sort through the mess you’ve just made of it. “Don’t call me cute,” you scold, searching for your lip balm. 

You could feel his frown from behind you. “You don’t like it?” 

“No. I love it.”

“I’m not following.”

You turn around to face him. “Satoru. You promised me you wouldn’t lead me on anymore. That includes teasing me or complimenting me.”

He looks at you incredulously. “What? I can’t even call you cute? This fucking sucks.”

“Your problem,” you say.

“So you’re cool with sharing a bed, but you’re not cool with me complimenting you,” he lays it out.

“We’re sharing this bed out of the kindness of my own heart,” you say to him, “because I care oh-so-very-much about your soccer career, and understand how important good sleep is for an athlete’s performance. I’m just that considerate of a person.” You point a strict finger at him. “But for your information, if you touch me while we’re in bed, I’ll kill you.”

“Hm. Not sure if I feel threatened or turned on right now,” he says.

You roll your eyes and finally zip up your cosmetics bag, set it on the table then make your way to the left side of the bed. When you glance at the nightstand, you notice Gojo has his wallet, his phone and his charger all situated there.

“Why’s your stuff here?” you ask him.

“Huh? Oh, I was going to sleep on that side,” he says to you.

“I usually sleep on the left side,” you tell him.

“But I usually sleep on the left side.”

You blink at him.

“I–…I’ll sleep on the right side,” he suggests, shoulders tense and on edge.

“Okay,” you shrug, and move his stuff.

Gojo spends some time freshening up in the bathroom too, and when he comes out he looks like he’s actually tired, and you feel like it’s the first time you’ve seen him look as worn out as he probably should be for someone as busy as him. You’re already settled under the sheets, the duvet pulled all the way up to your chin as you lay on your back. He comes up to the right side of the bed, checking his phone for a few minutes while standing and rubbing at the back of his neck, then plugs his phone into the charger. He grabs the sheets, about to pull them back, when he pauses and looks at you.

“Are you su-”

“If you ask me if I’m sure about this one more time, I will no longer feel sorry for you, and will make you go sleep on the love-stained couch,” you threaten him.

He grimaces at your choice of words and pulls the sheets back, slipping himself into bed. “Why do you have to put it like that? You’re gross. Also, I’m pretty sure this bed has seen less-than-holy things too.”

The only lighting in the room came from the warm, dim bulb of the night lamp at Gojo’s nightstand. An incredibly awkward silence settles between the two of you. Or maybe it’s just awkward for you, because he seems fine. He’s on his back too, looking up at the ceiling, practically motionless but there’s the faintest sound of his breathing every once in a while and it’s a sound you’ve never heard in such detail before.

He turns his head to you, but you don’t meet his gaze just yet. You shuffle a little bit, hip bumping against his side, elbow hitting his arm. He’s masculine next to you, shoulders hard, muscles heavy, but when you finally turn your head to glance at him and see the expression on his face, you realize that everything about him was rigid—except for the way he was looking at you.

“When did you sneak it in?” he asks.

“Sneak what in?” 

“The can of strawberry vanilla soda. Into my bag.”

You swear your heart stills a little in your chest. 

“Before,” is all you say to him.

He sighs. “y/n…”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to feel bad for me. I wanted you to have it, regardless of how I thought my confession would go,” you assure.

It’s hard to read his expression from the side while he’s looking up at the ceiling, but it’s softer than it was a second ago. The need to change the subject consumes you.

“Why do you have calluses on your fingertips?” you ask him. “You’re a soccer player, you don’t use your hands for anything.”

“I play the guitar,” he replies simply.

You perch yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him with interest. His eyes flicker to your face. “Really?”

“No. I was just kidding. Hate the way you got excited though. I might have to pick up a guitar now.”

“Can you just answer me?” you sigh, flopping down onto your back again.

He laughs a little, a sound you feel like you could get drunk on at this point. He lifts his head up off the pillow enough to tuck his right hand underneath it, then rests it back down. You wish there was a mirror on the ceiling so you could see the flex of his arm. “Coach has us do the rock climbing wall at the gym at least once a week for practice. He thinks it’s a good workout. Causes a hell of a lot of skin tear though.”

“That’s it? That’s the reason?”

“Mhm.”

You shake your head, “You should learn how to play the guitar, because that’s a lame reason to have calluses.”

He lifts his head up off the pillow again and brings the hand that was tucked under his nape to in front of his face and he just looks at it. You look at it too. “Why are you so obsessed with the state of my hands? 

“A girl can’t be curious?” you ask.

“They’re not that bad.” You wonder if you’ve made him self-conscious. 

You watch the way he flexes his fingers open and then closed. He turns it around, and you can see the veins trailing down from the valleys of his knuckles, disappearing into the fabric of his long sleeve. You remember that party, the two of you in that bathroom, when his hands were all over you, and it’s suddenly a little hard to breathe. He turns his hand again so the palm faces him, but now it’s also slightly turned towards you too.

“They’re bad here,” you say, pointing to his ring finger where you see slight peeling at the tip. The padded skin of your finger touches his skin. “A little bad here, too.” You point to his index finger, careless enough to allow all of your fingers to brush against his this time.

He watches you. “Your hands are really small,” he comments, like it was a marvel to him.

You look over at him briefly, and there’s not a single sign of tension in his face as he observes the image of your hand next to his hand in the air above him. He looked like he was at peace.

“Yours are just big,” you tell him. 

He knows he’s not supposed to, and you really shouldn’t have let him, but he interlocks his fingers with yours regardless, holding onto your hand. You feel the roughness of those calluses all across your soft skin. His thumb runs over the curve of your knuckle, almost in a soothing way, like he was trying to apologize to you for something. And this was the only way he knew how. 

Something sobers him up, because he suddenly pulls his fingers from yours and drops his hand to the duvet. Your hand lingers in the air for a few seconds before you do the same. And now you’re both awkwardly staring up at the ceiling again.

“Sorry,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” you whisper too.

The silence settles for longer.

He sighs. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he says out of nowhere.

“Huh?” you turned your body a little to face him, and he was looking up at the ceiling as if there was something across the texture that he was trying to decipher.

“I don’t want you thinking that the reason I can’t-,” he pauses, to think carefully about his words, “...that the reason I can’t return your feelings is because of you, or anything you’ve done. It’s been a while since I’ve liked anyone to be honest, and I’m just really not looking to date right now.”

You’re hurt by his words. Because even if he didn’t want to date anyone, you thought that he would’ve at least tried to for you. You thought that he had at least some feelings that the two of you could’ve worked off of. “Why don’t you want to date anyone?”

“Reasons.”

“Obviously. What reasons?” you prod. When he doesn’t respond, you sigh. “If it’s something traumatic, I get it. My hamster died in the fourth grade,” you say, “I’ve never known peace since.”

He turns onto his side to face you with a soft and amused smile on his face. “Sorry to hear that. What was your hamster’s name?”

You try not to feel hot from the burn of his gaze and you turn onto your back to look up at the ceiling again. “Mr. Guilmon,” you say.

“Like…guilmon from digimon?

“Mhm.”

“You like digimon?”

“Oh yeah, I used to watch it all the time when I was a kid. My mom wanted to name my hamster ‘Scout’ but I refused,” you tell him, blinking a few times as the memories from your childhood come back to you. A small smile makes its way onto your face.

“I love digimon,” he says, fast, like he couldn’t contain it. 

“Really?” you give him a sidewards glance, a little surprised.

He hesitates slightly before sighing, turning over in the opposite direction to reach for his wallet on his nightstand. You feel the fabric of the duvet stretch across you from the movement, and you remember just how intimate this all felt. He’s laying on his back again, holding his wallet up in the air with both hands as he flips it open, then slides his credit card up out of the slot, and shows it to you. Digimon themed. You have to purse your lips together to hold back your laughter.

He turns his head to look at you when you can’t help but let a little noise escape your mouth, and you can see through the laughter-induced sheen of tears in your eyes that he’s frowning.

“Hey–”

“I’m sorry–” you're fully laughing at this point, hand over your mouth to try to contain yourself, “it’s just– oh my god— you’re the last person I would’ve expected to have been such a nerd.” 

“I’m not a nerd–” he tries to argue but you snatch the card out of his hand to study it closer, and also to memorize the numbers on the back.

“Popular soccer boy Gojo Satoru,” you’re giggling, “has a custom Digimon credit card.”

When he tries to reach for it, you stretch your arm off to the left. His weight leans on you, chest pressing against the curve of your shoulder, arm extending across you as he tries to grab his card back. “Quit it,” he mutters. 

“No,” you say, holding it further to your left, weakly trying to push him away from you.

“Quit it,” he repeats, face scowling now with what looks like embarrassment, and he holds his upper body up by the elbow, leaning over you even more to reclaim it, “or else.”

“Or else, what?” you say through wheezes, and it seems like something in him snaps because suddenly he grabs your wrist, hard, pinning it down onto the mattress, holding it there next to your head, and his entire upper body is towering over you. Shocked, you’re breathing fast, your eyes darting across his face, and he’s looking at you with a furrowed brow and a tense jaw.

“Or else I won’t keep my promise,” he says through a harsh breath, his voice low and rough.

You’re stunned underneath him. “What promise?” you ask, breathlessly. 

He leans down closer, to the point where the fringe of his hair brushes against your forehead. “My promise to hold myself back from you.”

You swallow hard, chest heaving. You feel the heat of his hand on your wrist burning through to your veins. You try to squirm slightly in his grip, but he just presses your wrist down further into the mattress.

He glances at your lips, eyes dilated and stern, and leans down even closer to you. “Do you have any idea how bad I’ve been wanting to punish you for leaving me in that bathroom by myself?” he says in a voice so husky you feel the arousal build at your center the second your head registers it.

You can’t find your words. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, as if to make sure yours stay on his too, and you’re docile under him until he’s distracted you enough to pinch his credit card between two of his fingers and discretely pull it out from your grip. He then lets go of your wrist and disappears out of your line of sight when he flops back down onto the mattress next to you, tucking his card back into his wallet.

“But I won’t. Because I’m a nice person, and will respect your space. Or whatever.” 

You don’t know what to say, your hand finding a place over your heart as you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

“We should probably go to sleep,” he sighs after a minute, tossing his wallet back onto the nightstand and reaching over to turn off the light.

It’s dark now in the room, the only light coming from through the layered fabrics of the curtains. It's a cold light, possibly from the moon and maybe some dim neighboring white street lights, but it’s enough to where you could still see the slight texture of the ceiling, and maybe his face.

You both spend a few minutes trying to get comfortable. You try not to bump your butt against him, or brush your chest against his arm, but it happens a couple times anyway, and you mentally curse yourself for it. The rise of the duvet fabric from his chest becomes shallow with his breathing, and you think he’s fallen asleep, but then the two of you turn over at the exact same time, facing each other, eyes flying open and gazes meeting. It startles the both of you, but neither of you look away or say a word. The two of you just sit in the moment for what feels like hours, and very could’ve easily been. 

You’re the first to break the silence. “You know, there was a time where I thought that you weren’t even real.” You’re speaking hushed, like you’re afraid someone will hear, even though there’s only two souls in this room right now.

“What?” he asks, a slight raise to his eyebrow. “...why.”

“I don’t know. You’re like this urban legend around campus. You probably don’t know it, since you’re in it, but the world you’re in is very different from the world the rest of us students are in.”

He’s silent for a moment, his face being briefly illuminated by the reflection of a car’s headlights on the windows of the surrounding building. “I think I know what you mean.”

You blink at him. “I thought you would have a few more follow-up questions to that, but I guess you’re surprisingly self-aware.”

He hums to himself. “I think I can just put it into perspective.”

“Perspective?” you ask. You’re hanging onto every single one of his words tonight. You don’t want a single one of them slipping through you, not understood.

“Yeah,” he says, “there are moments where I feel like I’m not in that world anymore. And it feels nice. To get out of it.”

You want to ask him when those moments are, but he’s quick to speak again.

“I guess that means I’m aware of the moments where I am in it, so I know that it exists, if that makes sense? I don’t know.” He looks down at your pajamas, at the dancing sloth at the front, and the crease to his brow relaxes slightly. 

“Mhm, makes sense.”

His eyes are back on you, studying. There’s a strange look on his face that you can’t really comprehend. “I want to know about your world,” he says.

You breathe in deep, and exhale shallow. “My world is simple. I want to be a filmmaker and then live in a little cottage.”

He smiles at you. “A little cottage?”

“Yeah,” you say, “maybe in the countryside. The Italian countryside. With my own garden in the backyard so I can use fresh zucchini in my salads.”

“Any animals? Pets?” he asks, like he’s envisioning it all in his head too. 

“Maybe some chickens,” you say, “I promised Mr. Guilmon I’d name another one of my pets after him someday. I have to keep my promise.”

He nods. “You do.”

There’s another silence, but it doesn’t feel awkward this time.

“Did you turn your photos in to your professor?” he asks.

“Yeah, I did,” you tell him. “Earlier this week.”

“Nice. What about your reference for grad school?”

“I asked him for it.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows raise. “How’d it go?”

“Mm…I was really nervous, but it went well. He said he’d do it.”

There’s such a tenderness to his expression that you feel so compelled to kiss him right now. “That’s awesome. I’m proud of you. That’s one step closer to your dream.”

You purse your lips together from his words, sitting with the warm feeling in your chest. You want to thank him again, but instead all you say is “we’re even now.”

He lets out a small chuckle. It comes from his throat. “You’ve said that so many times.”

“I know.” Because you can’t believe it’s all over. This little arrangement between the two of you. You don’t want it to be over. “I can’t remember when the first time I said it was.”

“That night,” he answers you fast and with certainty, like it was at the forefront of his mind, “when you drove over rocks. And we sat together on the curb. And I realized how badly you take care of your car. You don’t need thousands of chain restaurant napkins in your glovebox, by the way. No matter how much you might think you do.”

“Wow. I was almost romanced by you for a second, but you ruined it,” you mumble.

You’re instantly taken back to that night. You remember the gentle quality in his eyes as he stared up at the stars, and you can still see the reflection of that sky in his eyes right now with the way he��s looking at you. 

“I really liked you that night,” you whisper, “I wish you were like that all the time.”

“Am I not like that all the time?” he asks, voice soft to match yours.

“No,” you say, “sometimes you’re mean.”

His eyes on you are gentle, somewhat careful. “I’m sorry for being mean.” 

You wonder if you can change his mind. If you can will him to like you back, if you can will him into wanting a relationship with you. You want to be his exception, not his rule.

“It’s okay. I’m mean sometimes, too,” you say, “mean to myself for sharing a bed with a guy that doesn’t like me.” He’s looking at your lips as you speak. “I’m bad like that.”

“You’re not bad,” is all he says.

“I am,” you say, and you inch closer to him, until there’s hardly any space between the two of you. You look up at him, faces inches away. You feel so safe with him, and yet you also feel scared, because you like him so much that you would let him ruin you if he wanted to. You press a flat palm to his shirt, searching for his heart, and you find that it’s beating fast in his chest. “I’m a bad woman, Satoru.”

“y/n,” he says, like a warning.

“I mean it,” you whisper.

“You said you’d kill me if I touch you,” he reminds you, sounding a little breathless.

“I can’t kill you, you’re way stronger than me,” you whisper, “so touch me.” Your hand is gripping onto the fabric of his shirt now, tight, with desire. He’s looking at you with a whole lot of desire too, but there was something else there as well. “Please.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist–the heat of his touch that you so badly wanted, craved, finally on you–but it’s to pull you away from him. Your grasp on his shirt releases and he brings your hand to the front of your chest, laying it down gently before letting it go. Your wrist lays limp there, missing his touch. Limp in front of your beating heart.

“Let’s just go to sleep, okay?” he says softly. 

Your eyes widen when you look at him, and you couldn’t even hide the hurt that settled across your face if you tried. Gaze dropping to his chest, you see the way it was rising with every breath he took, and for the second time in this life, you’ve felt so utterly rejected by him. You give him a compliant nod, and scootch back away from him before turning away. He stays as he is, watching your back, and you can feel his gaze on the nape of your neck. 

Counting the minutes to fall asleep felt exhausting, but the last thing you remember before you closed your eyes was the feeling of a tear trickling down onto your pillow, wet and cold against your cheek.

–

You wake up the next morning to an empty bed, and an even emptier feeling heart. There’s also this weird feeling of disappointment within you, and you don’t really know why.

Grabbing your phone on the nightstand, you quickly search for the email with the men’s soccer team practice schedule, and you see that they had a sharp 8am practice this morning before the game in the afternoon. The time reads 6:37am, and you’re wondering where Gojo went so early in the morning before heading off to the practice field.

You went back to sleep for a couple hours, and then woke up again. By the time you took a shower, got dressed, and went downstairs to the hotel lobby to eat breakfast, it was already 10:00am and it was time to make it to the field so you could set up and calibrate your camera prior to taking photos for the match. Following Utahime’s gameday instructions, you took a cab to the location with all of your gear.

The Kyoto soccer stadium was less of a stadium and more of an extremely large and open expanse of grass that had enormous silver metal stands stretching across the perimeter. It was something you would expect of an area in the countryside, but security was still somehow tight across the fenced off area. 

It was still a couple hours before the game, so the field was bustling with pre-game set-ups and the stands were empty. There were a few sports canopies being put up, as well as a small truck with workers that were working to stock up the hydration stations. A few men in suits were seated at tables with notepads and clipboards, looking busy in conversation and on what sounded like business calls. As you walk down the sidelines, you notice a few other people checking the distances between the goals and the chalk markings across the field. The stands were extremely close to all of the action, and when you look to the right, you see a couple of familiar faces there.

“Ah, y/n! We’re over here.”

You approach the group of three people, all seated on the lowest metal bench of one of the spectator sections. There were a bunch of tripods, cameras, cases, and laptops sprawled across in front of them. You recognize Hana and Minato, but you don’t recognize the other man sitting with them. You had met Hana and Minato at the game against Osaka last week, they were both professional photographers for the newsletter.

Hana hops off the bench and comes up to you. “It’s seriously so cool you’re here with us and that Utahime got you this gig,” she says to you with a smile. “Make sure your schedule is free on nights after matches, all us photographers usually get dinner together afterwards. You’re the baby out of us, so we’ll pay for you.”

You return her smile with one of your own. “That’s sweet, and sure I’ll try to.” 

You glance at the man whose name you didn’t know, your gaze meeting his, and soon enough he’s jumping up onto his feet too and making his way over to you.

“Ah, this is Kaito. Kai for short,” Hana says, gesturing to the man, and then to you.

Kai extends his hand out for you to shake. He’s tall and a bit lean. His style is really boyish—totally nailing the street photographer outfit with the white shirt underneath a flannel one, and some Carhartt pants paired with some Vans. You reach out to shake his hand, and he holds onto it for a second longer than you would’ve expected.

“Hi,” you greet him and tell him your name.

“That’s a nice name,” he says with a smile.

Hana claps her hands together. “Okay! We all know each other now, that’s great. We should get started prepping before the players get here, I believe they’re scheduled to be here in an hour.” She walks over to the benches and picks up her digital camera. Minato grabs his as well as his tripod, then walks over to Hana’s side. “The way we usually do it is to split the field into corners, and each of us works that perimeter. The videographers are here too, so just make sure you don’t accidentally knock over or stand in front of one of their cameras.”

All three of you nod at her and you unzip your case to take your film camera out. Kai is next to you, looking at the device in your hands curiously.

“Kai, you can work with y/n for today since it’s her first day. Split up those two corners over there,” Hana says, pointing to the other end of the field. You and Kai look in that direction. “Minato and I will take the other short end.”

With a few more discussions and detailed instructions, the four of you disperse to your assigned locations. You’re a step ahead of Kai, although he should really be the one leading your stride since you’re the new one here, but he soon enough catches up to you.

“Is that a Canon AE-1?” he asks you, pointing to your camera.

You look at him a little surprised. “Yeah, it is. As vintage as they get.”

“Sweet, I used to shoot on film too. Second-hand?” 

“No, third. Still cost me an arm and a leg, though,” you sigh.

He laughs. “They’re not that expensive.”

“I’m a broke college student. I sometimes have to choose between paying rent and eating food,” you say to him.

He kicks at a random can on the grass, sending it flying forward, instead of picking it up. “Yeah, definitely don’t miss those days.”

“When did you graduate?” you ask.

“From UTokyo two years ago,” he says. 

You bend over to pick up the can he kicked and jog a little to the trashcan nearby, tossing it in, then jog back to him. “That’s nice. You’ve been doing this for two years?”

“Yup,” he says to you as the two of you reach the corner of the field outlined by freshly drawn chalk. He kneels down on the grass, sets his camera case down, and opens it up. Your jaw drops.

“Is that a—Leica camera?” you ask him, shocked.

He smirks up at you. “Sure is.”

“Oh, so you’re just rich, then,” you sit down on the grass to look at it with interest, marveling at its condition.

“Nope. I’ll bet I got it for cheaper than your Canon there,” he points to the camera hung at your neck.

You meet his gaze. “No way.”

“Way,” he says, pulling out the attachable lens before wiping at it with a microfiber cloth, “I know a guy. He sells used cameras. The only issue is you’ve gotta refurbish them yourself.” 

You sigh. “Wonderful. Because I would know how to do that.”

He lets out a half-laugh, and you glance up briefly to look at his expression. He was amused. “It’s pretty easy, just gotta do it once. And then you’ll have a used Leica that works brand-new, all for just under a hundred-thousand yen.”

You’re looking at him with surprise again. “That cheap?”

“Yup.”

“Wow…” Your finger plays with the lens cap on your camera.

“If you want, I can send you his info. But if you want to meet up with him, it’ll probably have to be facilitated through me,” Kai says, “He takes clients by recommendation. No use in selling a used camera to an idiot that doesn’t know how to refurbish it. He’s looking for niche photographers that have the interest.”

You press your lips together, considering it. “Sure.”

He hands his phone to you. “Alright, gimme your number.”

You hesitate for a second before typing your number into his contacts then hand it back and watch as he saves it in his phone. “Canon girl. Won’t forget ya.”

The two of you make work for a second, eyeing the field and mapping out angles of where to get the best shots during play. Kai gives you some pointers and you’re marveling at how good they are.

“Not really used to shooting on film anymore,” he mumbles, peering through the hole on your camera when you handed it over to him, “but usually a one over five-hundred shutter speed works well for sports. I’d switch between that and over two-fifty though, to avoid a blurry finish.”

“Thanks,” you say to him, wanting to write all this down to not forget it. “Wish I knew this last week.”

“Why shoot on film?” he asks out of nowhere, handing your camera back to you. “Why not digital?”

“Oh, it’s a personal interest,” you say to him, adjusting your shutter speed as he suggested, “I think there’s a charm to it. I want to be a movie maker, and shoot on film medium.”

He frowns at you. “How are you going to do that?”

You tilt your head at him, shuffling on the grass. “I’m going to apply to the film graduate program at UTokyo to start.”

He laughs at that from where he’s seated across from you. “Really? That’s a waste of your time.”

Your heart sinks a little in your chest from his tone. “Why would it be a waste of my time?”

He turns to face you more directly. “y/n, trust me, I know this career path. Been there, done that. Millions of film majors like yourself always have these big-ass dreams like ‘I want to become a director, I want to do screenplay’ etc., but only one or two of them actually succeed.” 

Your shoulders sulk. It’s not the first time you’ve heard those words from someone—your own parents practically recited them word-for-word before you headed off to college—but you had been doing really well all of senior year to ignore that nagging little voice in your head. It was honestly quite triggering to hear it all again right now. “Well, I think I can do it.”

He lets out a short scoff. “You sound real convincing there.” When he catches sight of your upset expression, he straightens his back a little. “My bad. Just trying to look out for you. I’m your senior in this industry. I know my way around these things. Trust me.”

You nod slowly. “I know. Thanks.” Part of you wonders if he’s just projecting.

“Well anyway,” he shrugs, “I think you should just focus on photography for now. It’s the safest career option for you to do.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, wanting to diffuse the conversation.

The two of you disperse to your assigned corners once the stands start to fill with spectators. Shortly after, the players make their introductions onto the field, and you can see Gojo across the field. He’s too far to read his expression, but for some reason when you look at him, that disappointed feeling from this morning comes back to you. You try to push it down and just focus on your task at hand.

UTokyo does well during the match, and Gojo seems to be playing much better than the Osaka game last week, scoring two goals within the first half. There were a couple of times where there were throw-ins near your corner, and you made eye contact with him as he’s breathing heavily, wiping the sweat off his face with his jersey, and every time you look at him, that melancholic feeling washes over you again. UTokyo wins 3-2, the crowd evidently disappointed as they were rooting for their home team, and by the time the disgruntled fans started to clear the stands, the sun was setting over the horizon and the sky was a golden color.

The referees on the field begin to oversee the post-match proceedings with the players. Kai comes around to meet you at your corner, and Hana and Minato arrive there too.

“Hey team! How’d it go?” Hana asks, a little out of breath from her journey over here.

“Went fine,” Kai responds.

“It was a little tricky,” you comment, “but I think my photos came out well.”

Hana nods. “Alright, sounds good. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

Kai and Minato nod, and then all three sets of eyes are on you. You hesitate for a moment, and look off past them to where you see the group of soccer players in conversations with the coaches and referees. You see Gojo standing there, his hands on his hips as he peered across the field, tilting his neck to the side repeatedly, and you realize he had been doing that all match long. That unsettling feeling within you starts to brew once again. “Uh, I’m really sorry, but I’m not feeling very well. I think I might just head back to the hotel.”

Hana and Minato nod at you with a concerned expression, while Kai just looks disappointed.

“Okay, well, I hope you feel better,” she says.

You end up taking an Uber back to the hotel in haste, not wanting to run into Gojo or any of the other soccer players after their match, and make it to the room, using the key card that Gojo gave you to get inside. You take a shower to freshen up, and by the time it’s 7pm, you’re starving. You put on a simple outfit and make it downstairs into the lobby of the hotel, about to go peruse the nearby dining options, but right when you step out of the elevator, you run into Gojo.

There’s a look of pleasant surprise on his face and you take in his appearance. He was still wearing his soccer jersey, covered in grass and dirt stains, and his face was slightly flushed from exertion. You figured he just came back from the field.

“Hey,” he says, “sorry, I was just about to head over there.” He jerks his head off towards the lobby, and you glance in that direction. There was a group of maybe thirty people gathered around the lounging areas and high-tables over at the business suite, and you recognize them as UTokyo’s soccer players, along with Coach Yaga and other team staff. The players were still all clad in their uniforms, carrying all their stuff, and there were plays of today’s game rerunning across the TV screens. You realize they’re probably prepping for interview questions for tomorrow’s conference.

“Oh, please, go ahead,” you say to him.

He tilts his head at you. “Are you doing alright?” 

You were aware that things might feel awkward after last night, and that your cheeks would probably feel hot like they do now the next time you had to talk to him. Your mind takes you back to the memories, when you think about how badly you wanted him to stay with you in the room because of that hollow feeling in your chest from missing him, despite how you knew it was bad for you. Because this man standing in front of you doesn’t like you in the way that you like him. 

And then it clicks. The reason for that feeling of disappointment you’ve had since the moment you woke up today.

When you glance up at Gojo this time, you see him differently than you had from a second ago. You finally notice the slight dark circles under his eyes, and figure out that the reason he’s been tilting his neck to the side all day was because he was trying to stretch out a kink. You vaguely recall that moment you woke up in the middle of the night, and your sleepy brain registered that there was no longer the dip of him in the mattress next to you.

“When did you leave the room?” you ask him. You know your voice is quiet when he has to lean down a bit to hear you.

He takes his time answering, indulging in a few breaths. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” you say, starting to sound hostile, “you left during the night, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t deny it.

“You left once I fell asleep,” you say, eyes widening with realization.

He sighs. “Yes.”

“Where did you go to sleep?” you ask, trying to keep your tone level.

“Suguru’s room had an extra couch. I pushed them together.”

You felt sick and sad, feeling something worse than rejection right now. There was a part of you that still thought that all of this from him was just a joke. A prank. That he was finally going to say just kidding, I like you too. The reason you’ve been so disappointed since the minute you woke up today was because there was a part of you that thought you were going to wake up this morning with his arms wrapped around you, back pressed tight to his chest while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear of how much he likes you, of how much he wants you, of how much he wants to be with you.

“Why? Even after I said I didn’t want you to have bad sleep?” Your voice was laced with hurt. You didn’t even know how to explain to him why it upset you, because deep down you’re scared it isn’t even valid.

“It’s fine,” he says, “I played fine today. And we won.”

“You could’ve stayed. Do you really hate me that much?” Your words are shooting to kill now. “So I’m good enough to finger in a bathroom at a frat party, but not good enough to sleep next to?”

He furrows his brow. “I don’t understand why we’re arguing about this,” he says, tone starting to match yours, “you’re the one that wanted space. I was just trying to respect that.”

“If you really wanted to respect my space, you wouldn’t have agreed to share the bed with me in the first place.”

“y/n,” he says, “that’s not fair.”

“You should’ve known better.” You’re breathing fast, tone searingly accusive. “You know that I’m trying to get over you, and that I’m vulnerable, and that I’m probably confused about a lot of things right now.”

“I ask if we could at least be friends, you say no because it’d be some recipe for disaster, then you practically beg me to stay with you and tell me to touch you while we’re laying down together. You don’t think that’s confusing for me too?” he counters.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment at the memory of your desperate actions last night, and he instantly looks apologetic. You feel like you’re being unfair, but you feel like he’s being unfair too.

“I’m the one with feelings,” is all you say in your defense.

He swipes at his chin roughly with the back of his hand, smudging the dirt up to his cheek, and then closes his eyes for a second, like the weight of today has finally hit him all at once. He looks exhausted. “Right,” he says, softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Yo, Satoru!” one of his teammates yells from the center of the lobby. “Coach needs you, man.”

He rubs a hand down his tired face then throws a haphazard glance over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he calls out and then looks back at you. You can’t make eye contact with him, and just stare at the print on his jersey instead. “I’ll sleep in Suguru’s again tonight. The room is yours.”

There’s a lump in your throat and you feel like you’re about to cry. “Okay.”

He reaches into his shorts pocket and gives you a room card. “Here’s the spare. I don’t need to come grab my stuff for the night, so don’t worry.”

“Okay.”

He sounds like he wants to say more, and you see him take a small step towards you, hand reaching out for you, but this time Coach Yaga’s stern voice is calling out to him too. He sighs. “Good night.”

“Mhm. Thanks.”

He hesitates before he turns on his heel and you watch his back, with that signature #10 stretched across the fabric of his uniforn, as he jogs through the hotel lobby to his teammates.

The walk back to the hotel room is depressing, and you find yourself dragging your feet all the way there. Once you make your way inside, you look around at the room and see some of Gojo’s belongings scattered around, but it didn’t seem like there were any of his essentials. You look down at the spare key card in your hand–a promise from him that he won’t try to upset you anymore tonight–and that lump in your throat from earlier comes back. 

You hated fighting with him. You hated being away from him. Those feelings that you thought would go away just as fast as they came still sat so stubbornly within your heart, and it was becoming impossible to bear. 

You wonder if meeting him was all just some horrible, twisted mistake. 

Before you have time to dwell on that sad sentiment, your phone screen lights up with a message.

|| 7:52pm unknown number: kinda sucks you’re not here with us. was looking forward to showing you more of my camera

|| 7:53pm unknown number: this is kai by the way

The features of your face feel heavy as you look down at your phone screen. You don’t even notice your eyes are teary until you realize the blur of your vision makes it hard to see the letters as you type out a response.

You just wanted a distraction from all this pain.

|| 7:54pm you: can you send me the address? i wanna be there

a/n. grrrr i love a one-bed trope so much grrrrrrrrr it's gonna do it for me every damn time lol. thanks a bunch for reading!! there's still so much that i've got planned for the series haha i think the second half is gonna be a lot crazier than the first. super excited to write it though. by the way! i'm starting a choso x reader zombie au series, if you'd like to read more about it and/or be added to the taglist, you can reply to this post here also if you want to be added to taglist in general, i'd recommend making sure your tags are on!! since i've noticed a lot of people have them off

➸ take me to chapter nine!

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd (hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

[plussizeficchick]

Breeder’s Digest! | Nanami x Chubby!Reader

Summary; Nanami’s always wanted kids, but there’s something about you taking care of your nieces and nephews that just get him going.

Warnings; smut(breeding kink(like huge), pregnancy kink?, cunnlingus, P in V, cockwarming(mentioned), ooc!Nanami?, not proofread(y’all know what it is))

Sn: This was originally requested by @shadofireshinobi but friend I could never do it justice like how you requested😫but I hope you like it boo💕

He truly doesn’t know what came over him.

Nanami prides himself on his self control. Sure, there are times when it becomes too much, you’re a bit too tempting, but he’s always been able to keep himself in check.

So where the fuck is that same composure?

Really, he should’ve known better when you said your nieces and nephews would be at the gathering your family was having for Christmas, he just didn’t think it’d result to this.

It just became too much, the sight of you holding your baby niece to your chest, the way you so carefully cradled her, making sure to position her head right.

It just came so naturally to you.

The way you were able to calm her when she was getting fussy, the soft way you cooed at her when she did just about anything, it was getting to him. 

The want, the need, to fuck you full of his cum, to see you nice and round with his child.

He simply couldn’t wait.

— —

You aren’t sure what’s come over Nanami.

You thought everything was fine, you were at your parents house to spend time with them and your sister, along with her new bundle of joy but as you spent time there, Nanami started to act off.

You two had broached the topic of children briefly in the past. It was a mutual agreement that you both wanted them, just when the time was right.

So you’re confused as to what spurred this reaction.

After your niece was put down for a nap, Nanami gave your family a poor excuse as to why you had to leave earlier than anticipated and all but carried you out the door.

You tried to ask what came over him, but he merely shut you down with a searing kiss, stealing your breath away. “I need you.” He groaned against your mouth. He was struggling to hold himself back, desperate to get you squirming in his cock.

You whine against his lips, pulling back just enough to ask him what happened, when he pulls you right back into him, mumbling about getting you home.

— —

After narrowly avoiding crashing, you both managed to stumble into your shared home, Nanami hoisting you up to grind your clothed core against his. “Feel me, pretty? It’s all f’you.” He murmurs against your lips, the taste of you too addicting.

You grind against him, your panties accumulating an embarrassing amount of slick as you feel his hardness. “Need you, Ken. So bad.” You whine. The friction on your clit is delicious, but you need more. 

“Gonna fill you up.” He promises, walking you to your shared bedroom. “Gonna get you nice and full of my kids.” Your heart thrums at the mention of this, pussy clenching involuntarily. Nanami quirks a brow at that, a smirk making its way to his face. “Oh? She likes the sound of that, hm?”

Your heart just about falls to your ass.

He places you on the bed and strips you both of your clothes, kissing and sucking your most sensitive areas before finally placing his mouth where you need him most.

You gasp as he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue laving over the bundle of nerves as one of his hands to reach up and tweak one of your sensitive nipples. He uses his other hand to push one of your knees up, giving him a bit more access to your center. You cry out as he licks a bold stripe up your core, his eyes demanding contact. 

“You taste so good, pretty. I wonder, will you taste different when you’re swollen with my child? Will you taste even sweeter?” He works a finger into you, thrusting shallowly at first, but as you grind your hips into him, he picks up the pace. “I can’t wait to see your tits swell with milk. You won’t ever have to worry about them being too heavy, I’ll help with that, my dear.” Your mind is too clouded to understand the double meaning behind his words, too focused on chasing your orgasm. “Please.” You beg, though, you don’t really know what you're begging for. Nanami does, however, working in a second and third finger as his tongue works wonders on your clit.

It doesn’t take long before you cum, body spasming underneath him. He works you through it, pressing tender kisses along your body before making his way to your lips. “Need to fuck you, princess. Gotta fill you up.” He murmurs against you, cock grinding into your sopping cunt. You whimper as he strokes himself through your folds just right, tip bumping against your clit every so often.

He eventually takes pity on you, slowly stretching you around his thick length as he sets a steady pace. He pulls back a little to get a good look at your face. Drool spilling down your kiss-swollen lips, eyes hazy as he has you creaming around his cock, tits bouncing deliciously as he fucks into you.

So pretty.

“Can’t wait to see my baby in you.” He groans, the image of you round and your tits swollen making him that much harder inside you. He picks up the pace, angling his hips to hit your g-spot as he thumbs your clit. “Cum for me, Princess. Make a mess for me. Please, baby.” He practically begs. His cock is near to bursting the way you're clenching around him. 

You’re tearing up, the feeling of his cock inside you almost overwhelming. Just as you begin to cry out from your orgasm, Nanami captures your lips in a messy kiss, tongues mingling together sloppily. “Gonna cum f’you, princess. Gonna fill you up and I don’t want a fucking drop spilling out. Understand?” He practically snarls in your ear. And for some reason, it has your pussy clenching. 

He spills his seed deep inside you; a deep, guttural groan escaping him as he fucks deep into you, eager to paint your womb. His large hands roam the expanse of your tummy lovingly before he’s flipping you both over so you’re laying on top of him. He presses soft kisses along your neck even though you’re both spent, basking in each other’s warmth. 

Nanami knows that it’ll take a while before you’re showing, but as you lay there cockwarming him, he can’t help but be excited for what the future will hold.

— —

Taglist: @xogabbiexo @kinq-sleazee @dabilovesme @blkchxrryblyss @tenyaiidasslut @luna-indigoduh @bookwormsenpai @bl--ankhaeji @thicksimpx @namjoonswifeyy @nasty-quillz @musicisme333 @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @celi-xxmoon

[tojipie]

crybaby reader! but it isn’t toji who makes her upset, it’s someone else maybe some guy at her college how would toji react?

i honestly want to dedicate a proper blocked off chunk of my masterlist to this pairing :(( this is for the extreme social anxiety girlies who can only ever be around their boyfies (me)

content: hurt/comfort, fluff, severely introverted reader, anxiety

every hour spent in this class was more time to yourself to mull over why you’d let toji convince you to take an in-person course for once.

you’d gotten through college just fine these past few semesters, sitting through your lectures from the comfort of your living room. most of your school day was spent cuddled up with your back pressed to your boyfriend’s chest, where you were safe. 

you liked your routine, you craved order. there was nothing wrong with doing school online, in fact, you much preferred it that way over making the infuriating commute to school every morning.

toji had liked your routine just fine too, boasting about how nice it was to have you at home. that was until you started to let yourself go, slacking off during class to make yourself snacks, take showers, and nap on the couch.

that’s eventually why—much to your chagrin— toji convinced you to sign up for an in-person course to help you get your momentum back.

you were hesitant at first, blown completely out of the water by his outlandish request.

“just one day a week,” he pleaded, petting over the crown of your head in reassurance. “just one day to get a little fresh air, make some friends. don’t that sound fun?”

“i’m not gonna make any friends,” you explained bitterly, stomach already cramping with distaste at the thought of being forced to take the time out of your day to make your commute and spend 2 hours in a 30-person classroom every wednesday. people your age were cruel, you’d learned that very early on.

you knew it was unhealthy, squeezing your bubble this tight until you and toji were the only ones that could fit in it. was it really that bad to protect your peace though? you trusted toji, and he was better than anyone at showing you how loved you were—in his own way of course. 

you don’t say anything the day you press “enroll” on your school portal, feeling your boyfriend rub both hands up and down your sides in silent support. in fact, you’d secretly been the slightest bit excited at the change in scenery, ready to consider expanding that little bubble of yours.

keyword, consider. you were considering it right up until your first group assignment.

the stranger—your partner for the day, looks you up and down for only a moment, awkwardly turning to tap his friend behind him.

“switch with me,” he mutters, already grabbing his bag to leave your table with a sigh of relief.

the humiliation that settles deep within your bones is excruciating. you feel hot all over, suddenly conscious of every breath you take, how your chest shudders as you try not to cry. had he already decided he wanted nothing to do with you based on one look?

the girl he switches with isn’t much of an improvement, spending the majority of class on her phone while you work quietly on your laptop. you hear her laugh once or twice, too scared to look up and see if the giggling was at your expense.

you slink out of the room forty-five minutes early, unbeknownst to the people around you.

this was such a big mistake.

˚ ✧ ───

toji freezes the second you start to blubber into the swell of his chest, holding his thin work shirt in your quivering fists.

“what is it baby?” he whispers, bringing a large hand up to pet over the crown of your head. “you trip in the elevator again?”

“no,” you sniffle, embarrassedly wiping hot tears with your jacket sleeve. you didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t feel like enduring another wave of embarrassment lest you relive the events from today. 

the older man realizes the source of your tears, choosing his next words with caution.

“didn’t like class today?” he asks, fiddling with a strand of your hair absentmindedly.

“not going back,” you mumble, untangling yourself from his limbs to set your bag down on the couch. you sprawl out on the piece of furniture, exhausted beyond belief.

you tell him what had happened in the hours prior, pausing a few times to will away oncoming tears. toji kisses away each salty droplet, mouthing at your neck to coax an unexpected fit of laughter from you.

“you send in that project yet?” he asks, thumbing at the seam of your shirt.

“not yet, why?”

“bring it here.”

you oblige, curious.

the older man flips through the slides until he gets to the title page, highlighting your “partner’s” name and clicking the backspace with enthusiasm.

“there you go sugar,” he smiles, pulling you into his lap to let you get a better look. “you’re gonna go to that class and you’re gonna get the credit you deserve, okay?”

you truly hadn’t thought of it that way, intertwining your fingers as toji submits the project for you. was standing up for yourself really that simple?

tears start to well behind your lashes for the umpteenth time that day, reducing you to mush as the raven-haired man pulls you flush with his chest.

“thank you,” you mumble. he knows what you mean without you having to explain, wishing you wouldn’t thank him for the bare minimum. 

toji fiddles with each of your smaller fingers as you drift asleep against him, too overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotions to stay awake any longer. 

he whispers sweet promises to you as your mind walks the right rope between consciousness and dreamland, telling you how he’ll hold your hand on every walk to the train station from now until the last day of the semester. 

and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this safe in your life.

[superhoeva]

𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 – 𝐣. 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 (𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝟏𝟖+) | shaking in my boots to post this but we're gonna be brave today and do it anyway. i've been thinking about this man for around a month and i had to do something about it! didn't know it'd be a fic i wrote at 4am but here we are. warnings for this one include smut, language, oral (f receiving), bodily fluids (mentioned), insomnia, penetrative sex (p in v), and dirty talk. if i missed anything, let me know! super big special thanks to @heavenbarnes for just being them and introducing cod into my life. cosmo i love u! happy reading everyone <3 (w/c: 1.4k)

Before you met John, sleep didn’t like you enough to come when called upon.

Your nights were spent staring unhappily at the ceiling as you begged for sleep to take you away, yet it does no such thing. You’d tried counting sheep, only to curse the technique’s failing after you’d nearly made it near 400 and were still wide awake. Melatonin tablets in the early evening. Tea time before bed. White noise machines blaring through the hours of the night. Leaving your phone in an entirely different room. You’d tried it all, to no luck. 

Soon enough, your solution presents itself in a wide man with thick fingers and a sweet, sweet mouth.

Most nights, he has you back-arched and pussy seeping onto the sheets. Fingering, eating, then fucking you into a daze that allows for adequate slumber.

Fuck that he grumbles at you one evening after you pout to him about why you couldn’t make it through the day without a nap. He even evil-eyes your stupid white noise machine before pulling you to sit atop his hard thighs. Don’t need that shit, love. ‘Ve got somethin’ better.

He nearly melts at your tilted head and taught brow line that send him your silent what? You have to blink a few times before you realize you’ve been flipped onto your back.

Night after night, he’s relentless. Wagging and flicking and hauling the flat of his tongue right against your swollen pearl, your strength no match for his as your body tries to squirm away.

John has none of it, as he knows if you really want him to stop you’ll utter the safe word. Ears open and thick arms linking around your thighs, he digs his face impossibly deeper.

It’s as much for him as it is for you, clear as day thanks to the broken grumbles of how he would happily spend the rest of his goddamn life buried in this gorgeous cunt and the throaty growls that vibrate all the way down to his leaking tip. He eats away at you, nose and beard growing far past damp with your mess.

“Gonna come again,” you warn him pitifully, eyes rolling as he feels you start to pulse against him.

It’s your second of the night and just as mind-numbing as the first. John wrings his arms around you as you flail, eyes rolling at the taste of you oozing out onto his tongue.

“Fuckin’ incredible,” John sighs, nipping at the inside of your thigh before kissing his way up to your lips. He hauls you into a dizzying snog, dick twitching heavy as he lines it against your hole.

The kiss is a long one, mouths meshing with a few clashes of teeth. His tongue swirls, hips nudging the head of his pulsating cock into your puffy clit making you jump.

John coos at you through the end of the kiss, and you whine when he pulls away.

“None of that now,” he thumbs you lightly on the chin. His body towers over yours when he tows himself into a kneel, stifling a loud something when you snug a hand around his cock. Heaving breaths compel his chest into steep rises and falls as you slick your grasp back and forth, the wanton expression decorating your face enough to make him tilt his gaze.

“Gonna cum if you keep givin’ me those eyes,” the captain mumbles, the little grin he catches when he peeks down blooming something else within him. You squeal as he flips your body with little effort and sinks himself inside you with a bewitching languidity.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” John pushes out, hand planting just in-between your shoulder blades as he hunches, inhales catching in his throat when he’s finally slid completely inside. Railing into you wetly, he feels you already losing yourself in the measured, deliberate drives.

It’s just what you need. Something–someone, rather–to empty all the thoughts swarming around your brain. Someone to hold and fuck you towards a blissful oblivion. Sleep comes easier these days, your fucked out body sprawled against his as you snore quietly into his skin. No sheep, tea, or damn machines are any match for Price.

John drives himself sharp and deep, punctuating the good fucking girl that tumbles from him and hits against your ear. He smushes himself atop your frame, flaming skin heating yours, and hips grinding him until he’s balls deep inside of you once again. He stills for a moment, groaning with enjoyment at how you’re soaking walls press around him while you whimper out sweet nothings.

“Always feel so good wrapped ‘round me,” he mumbles sluggishly, breath fanning across you. “Squeezin’ me so good like the fuckin’ beauty you are.”

John starts again with slower thrusts, leaving your hole nearly empty before plunging himself back inside in a way that has you crying a lengthy wail. He himself can’t stop the stiff groan that leaves him at the act, grip maneuvering to pull you upwards.

His hips begin to snap into the cheeks of your ass as he clutches you tight, using the rest of his strength to keep you from falling as he fucks you deeper.

Your moan tumbles out as a sobbed string of curses, hand reaching backward for something, anything to hold onto while he pounds into you. Somehow you find the back of his neck that’s warm and humid with sweat, gripping the part of him with a squeeze.

Breaths punch out from deep in his chest, and you can only suck in half lungfuls of air, the bed rocking wildly under the two of you.

“My sweet girl. Poor thing’s gotta get fucked to sleep, huh? Can’t close those pretty eyes without me fillin’ you up first, hm?”

The words hit somewhere far inside you, mixing expertly with the wet sounds of your center drenching his dick in your slick.

“Right fuckin’ there,” John grunts, eyes shutting tight when he feels the angle of his hips flick just right, his throbbing tip gliding against the ridges inside of you. “Right there–fuck, squeeze when you get close, yeah?”

John has to chuckle when you do just that; squeeze your palm against his neck and dick as he gives your ass a light tap in response.

“That’s a girl,” he grins before snaking an arm around your front to settle a hand against your jaw to tilt your head to his. You mindlessly reach for a kiss, John obliging the request by pressing a wet peck into your lips. “That’s my girl, bloody perfect.”

He’s nearly there and so are you, eyes unable to stay open any further as the driving of his thrusts sound out in noisy smashes, cock gleaming with a pretty shine of a mixture of your sticky fluids.

“‘M coming,” is all you mewl out as a bright white blinds you. John watches you as best he can with a parted mouth, huffs of disbelief puffing out as you come around him. You shake and quiver against him, a fat tear or two sliding down your cheek while paralyzing ripples of pleasure heat you into a silent scream.

John keeps his clasp of you tight, encasing you as he works you through it. The way you clench and leak around him yanks the man into his own orgasm, his movement growing sloppy but intense as he comes.

His thrusts don’t pause when he spills messily inside your clamping walls, using you to milk every last drop of his seed out as he groans thickly.

You’re barely hanging on, all of your weight in the possession of John. He’s the only thing keeping you from melting onto the bed in the form of a puddle of cum and sweat, the last of your climaxes pulling a few flinches here and there.

A buzzy warmth has replaced the blinding heat as you sink into John, his wide chest splaying out nicely across your back, a hand rubbing soothing circles into the dewy skin of your stomach.

“My good girl,” the voice in your ear rasps out. You barely catch the words, lost in a pleased, exhausted fog that’s lulling you closer and closer to sleep. “Just what you needed, right? A good fuck to put ya t’a sleep…”

You don’t respond, further away now. You’re brought back a little when John shifts, his hand raising to cup your cheek. He glides his thumb, wiping away the remnants of your cries, leaving light kisses on your forehead, nose, and mouth.

“Gonna pull out so I can get your water. Wan’ you to drink the whole thing before you sleep.”

He waits until a sleepy nod bobs your head, tugging himself out of you slowly.

“Fuck me,” John whispers at the sight, his thick load dribbling out of you and into the bed.

He’ll get it in the morning.

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[winwintea]

dreamies as your flight seatmate + ratings

PAIRING ▸ boyfriend!dreamies x reader 

TAGS ▸ none, crack, established relationship, haechans is the worst someone drop him out of the plane please

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸inspired by an insta post i saw for 127 and thought the dreamies deserved their own version.

Mark Lee

mark and you have 3 hours on this flight, so get ready for 3 hours of straight yapping from mark lee himself. he’s gonna show you pictures he has saved on his phone and goes into every single detail about the photo. you honestly just want to chill and listen to music, but if it seems like he’s given up, 5 minutes later he’ll bring up another subject. even if you’re gonna try to fall asleep he’ll wake you up, “yo, did you hear what i just said?” and you can’t get mad at him, who wants to see him sad? (4/10 seatmate, sometimes cooks, most of the time idk what he’s talking about)

Huang Renjun

renjun is probably one of those insane people on planes. he can get through the whole flight not talking to a single person, not listening to any music at all, not even looking out the window, just staring straight forward, lost in his own thoughts. if the flight map is available he’ll watch it for fun, otherwise he can pretty much entertain himself for however long the flight is. renjun would even read the safety manual for fun??? however if you needed him for anything, or if you wanted to watch a movie he’d be down you just need to ask, otherwise he’s gonna be in his own zone. (6/10 seatmate since he’s insane, but points only bc he’ll do anything if you ask him too)

Lee Jeno

jeno would be in your personal space, BUT IT’S NOT HIS FAULT DON’T BLAME HIM. he’d take up the armrests too but that’s because his arms are so big… and you wouldn’t want him to be uncomfortable. and lowkey you’re fine with the personal space invasion thing too cause he smells good. (you’re coping) and maybe during the middle of the flight he’ll put the armrest up and hold you in a big hug, just so you can feel more comfortable cause he feels bad for taking up so much room. “i hope this is comfortable enough for you, it’s just a few more hours, you can take a nap on my shoulder or legs if you want” (7/10 seatmate, he feels bad and i would feel guilty if i gave him anything under a 6)

Lee Donghyuck

haechan is an armrest hogger… and he doesn’t even need to. instead of talking to you though, he’ll be on his phone the whole entire trip, watching tiktoks OUT LOUD on his phone. you honestly wanted to watch a movie with him, but you aren't even going to consider it now. and when you catch him peeking over your shoulder trying to watch whatever tv show you’re watching, you give him an annoyed look, and turn the device so you can’t see him. (-127/10 seatmate, just wait until he takes off his shoes cause then you’re both getting kicked off by the stewardess)

Na Jaemin

jaemin is the embodiment of the BEST seatmate ever. he’s always checking in on you, making sure you have ample leg room, let’s you use the armrests even if you don’t want to. he brought a whole bunch of snacks to for you two to share and snack on. downloaded a bunch of movies and tv shows for the ride, but if you don’t want to watch a movie, that’s fine. want to sleep? he brought a neck pillow. want to just talk? he can do that. (10/10 seatmate this is why i have high standards in men)

Zhong Chenle

chenle’s company could either go one or two ways. one, he could spend the whole entire flight watching the basketball game with the third person in your row that somehow was also a golden state warriors fan? to which… fuck him cause how tf did you become a third wheel? or two, he and you spend the whole entire flight just shit talking the other passengers on the plane with each other. chenle and you would probably be whispering to each other and giggling away. (3/10 cause the first outcome is more likely. we know even if there’s no other person to watch it with, as long as there’s a game on he’s watching.)

Park Jisung

jisung… it’s a little too quiet… and a little too tense. the mood is almost way too awkward? “jisung… you can talk to me you know?” you turn towards him, and his cheeks flush with embarrassment. “oh i wasn’t sure if you… wanted to talk or… maybe you were gonna sleep-“ you shush him with your finger, and lay your head upon his shoulder. His whole body begins to relax and he no longer feels cooped up in the seat like he was at first, “Whatever we do, let’s do it together alright?” (8/10 seatmate, very awkward, originally it’s way too close for his comfort but he gets into it and will do anything you want <3)

[unsolvedjarin]

Thinking about a kimi x fem! Driver! Reader who is basically the female version of Sebastian, where the fic is kimi and the reader doing a challenge for Ferraris channel, the reader being a bit of a know it all, and kimi just not caring

You can choose if it’s romantic or platonic:) thank you!

FERRARI AND CHINESE FOOD

pairing: (kimi raikkonen x ferrari driver! reader)

summary: ferrari has a sunshine driver and an iceman driver partake in a challenge for their youtube channel. thankfully, the sun can melt ice.

note: its 1am sorry i have no comprehensive thoughts this is a bit bad but have it anyways i am proud i made this with less than 5 hours of sleep. okay enjoy anon!!!!

content warning: my grammar at 1am

“Another one,” Kimi groans, throwing himself onto the couch in his room.

“Oh come on it’s not that bad,” you say with a grin, closing the door behind the both of you so no one could come in. You’re sure if Kimi had to talk to another person from the media he might explode. “Besides, this next one is the last one for today.”

“For today,” he emphasizes, groaning into a throw pillow once more. You’d both been doing media duties for Ferrari all day, and while it was tiring, you would say some of them had been fun and enjoyable. Although, evidently not for your teammate.

“Cheer up Kimi, it’ll be over soon,” you smile, sitting on the edge of the couch where he was laying down. You sigh, knowing the one thing that would get him to cooperate. “Dinner will be on me after.”

That grabs his attention, slightly pulling himself up and looking at you. “You mean that?”

“God you’re like a child I have to bribe,” you tease, yet with no malice. “Yes, I mean that.” You loved spending time with Kimi, and whenever there were media duties you both always had food afterwards. It was like a reward of sorts.

“Where d’ya wanna go?” Kimi mumbles, laying down on his side and resting his head on his hand. He was staring straight at you, waiting for a response. You think he looked pretty like this.

Smiling at him, you take your hand and run it through his hair softly, unable to help yourself. You would never normally do this, but you barely got moments alone during media week. Kimi grumbles but doesn’t stop you, you knew he always secretly liked it. “I dunno, what’re you up for?”

“Mmm…” he nuzzles into your hand a bit more, “Maybe chinese. I would enjoy some dumplings right now.”

“We can get Chinese then.”

Before you could have another moment of peace, however, a PR agent walked in the room to remind you that your next shoot was in ten minutes. You quickly pulled your hand away and Kimi sat up hastily, trying to fix up his hair. You give the agent an awkward thumbs up, hoping he got the message to leave.

“Okay, you’re right, this incessant filming is a bit tiring,” you say the second the door closes.

“Told you,” he simply replies. You pout in return, slumping your form beside him. He thought you looked so cute like this. Holding your cheek, he kisses your forehead, your nose, then your mouth, making you scrunch up your face. He chuckles, at least he made you feel a bit better.

“I should probably get ready for the shoot. You good here?” You ask, getting up from the couch. Kimi hums a yes, but doesn’t let go of your hand. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, Kimi, but you will have to let go of my hand so I can get to my room.”

He looks at you with puppy eyes for a second before reluctantly letting go, deciding to lay back down on the couch.

“You’re not gonna get ready?”

Kimi shakes his head, eyes already closed ready for a five minute nap. You scoff softly at him, before heading for the door. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he mumbles. Kimi was not a man of many words by any means, but he would always utter those back to you. Smiling to yourself, you shut the door and get ready for the shoot.

“So this is how the challenge goes: you have to compete with each other on who knows your fellow drivers and each other the best, and of course, most points win. You’ll write your answers on a whiteboard so there’ll be no cheating.” The interviewer behind the camera explains. You nod, giving her a signal that you were ready for them to start filming. Kimi sat beside you on a couch, his face not showing any emotions whatsoever. Looks like you would be doing the heavy lifting on this shoot today.

They snap the check in front of the camera, and the interviewer asks the first question. “Starting with something simple, who on the grid has the most wins?”

“Oh, easy.” you mumble, writing your answer down on your board. Kimi wrote his answer in silence, not talking even when he finished.

“Done?”

You nod, both you and Kimi showing your boards. Lewis Hamilton.

“Easy enough, next question! Who was Y/N’s idol growing up?”

“Aha! You should know this, I told you about it before!” you exclaim, poking Kimi. He grunts, “Not fair, she knows her own idol of course.”

“Sorry, the question wasn’t finished. For Y/N, who was Kimi's idol growing up?” The girl adds.

Oh. Your smile drops as you look to the man beside you who, for the first time in any of the shoots you did today, showed emotion by grinning wickedly at you. “You should get this, I told you about it before,” he teases, echoing your own words. You think for a second before writing down a guess of an answer.

“Time’s up! Can you both please show your boards.”

You reveal yours first, the words Ayrton Senna scribbled down on it. Looking at the man beside you for confirmation, he shakes his head.

“Awh no way! Who’s your idol then?”

Kimi shrugs his shoulders, not answering your question. He didn’t even give Ferrari an answer for that one. He looks at his own empty board for a second before jotting down an answer he’s sure is wrong, but he’s also sure as hell is funny.

Turning his board around, you see Kimi Raikkonen written down with a smiley face beside it. You snigger loudly before replying, “Sure it is bud. In your dreams, maybe.”

“Unfortunately, that is incorrect, Kimi.” The interviewer calls out.

“Go figure,” he mumbles wryly, making you grin even wider.

“No, his answer is correct.” You joke, trying to tease him even more. He gives you a look but you simply keep your sly grin. He decides to drop it, after all he at least made you smile. That in itself deserves a point.

The questions went on for a while, before they got to the harder ones. “Okay, amping it up a notch, who won the 1985 World Championship?”

“Woah, that escalated quickly,” you exclaim, pausing to think for a second.

So far the score was 4-1 for you and Kimi respectively, as he really wasn’t trying at all. You’re pretty sure he could’ve gotten the question about what year Fernando Alonso came into F1 right if he cared. Jotting your answer down to the current question, you see Kimi from your peripheral vision trying to take a peek of your board.

“Hey!” you smack him lightly with your board, “Cheater.”

He smirks, trying to block your second hit. “Wasn’t cheating.”

You continue writing your answer but this time hiding it from Kimi, keeping it as close to your chest as possible. He looks at you for a second as if planning something before going back to write on his own board. Well– he pretends to write something, but you can see him just drawing a star in the corner of his board.

“What’re you planning?” You mumble. Kimi simply shrugs his shoulders, but you can see the slight grin playing on his lips. Locking in your answer, you feel the couch shift slightly to your left. Kimi inched a little closer without you sensing it. He notices your side eye and realizes it’s now or never, and tries to tackle you to see your board.

You shriek, attempting to hide your board from him by sliding down the sofa, to no avail. Your reaction was too slow and he was already on your side of the couch. You were giggling helplessly at this point, unable to contain your joy. Opening your eyes that you didn’t notice you closed, you’re met with a large smile, your teammate proud of himself.

“Get off of me Raikkonen!” You exclaim, using his last name for emphasis. You try to shove him off but he stays solid slightly on top of you, still pretending to try and take a peek of your board. You knew he didn’t give a damn about those answers anymore.

“Say please,” he mutters, still smirking. You truly didn’t know what had gotten into him.

“Please get off of me, you bastard.”

In truth Kimi didn’t want to, he enjoyed seeing your face scrunch up under him with a laugh. He had forgotten about the cameras a long time ago– they weren’t important to him. He just liked seeing you smile. Still, he knew the faster they finished this challenge the faster he could get some alone time with you.

He finally concedes and moves back to his spot on the couch, fixing his hair and going back to writing his answer as if nothing happened. You sit up straight, fix your shirt, and do the same. The crew looked confused, feeling like they saw something that they shouldn’t have. You didn’t care, though. If anyone asked you would just say what you always did, that physical touch was your love language with friends. It wasn’t necessarily a lie, except for the fact that Kimi wasn’t just a friend.

The interviewer clears her throat before speaking up again, “Okay– uh– answers?”

“Prost, of course.” You answer with a smile. You loved studying the history of Formula One. Even though you couldn’t see, Kimi gave you the softest look he has in a while. He loved how you genuinely lit up whenever something you liked came up.

“And you, Kimi?” The interviewer asks, making the man snap out of his moment of adoration.

Kimi flips his board, a Lewis Hamilton written on it. The interviewer shakes her head but continues, “I’m sure that’s a gag answer b—”

“Is it?” Kimi butts in.

“I’m sorry?”

“Is it a gag answer?”

You shove Kimi softly on his side, “Don’t mess with her like that!”

He chuckles, before raising his hands in defeat. “Whatever you say.”

The rest of the game moves pretty quick, save for a quick argument between you and Kimi on what Sebastian’s favorite track was. As you both leave the set, you give Kimi a sneaky grin. “Bold move earlier.”

“Hmm?”

“Doing all that tackling in front of the camera. I thought you were the one who said we should be discreet. You definitely gave Ferrari a lot of bonus content. I’m sure they’ll cut it out though.”

“Ehh,” Kimi shrugs, not replying for a good while as you both walk out the Ferrari building and out into the night streets. You knew he was trying to find the right words, trying to figure out how to articulate his thoughts. It was part of the reason why he didn’t like talking so much.

Once outside he wraps his arms around you, a sign that he was finally back in the present and ready to talk. “I just wanted people to know, you know?”

“Know what? That you have a quarterback tackle?”

He chuckles at the recent memory before replying, “No, that I love you.”

You blush, hoping Kimi didn’t see it. He did. You carry on your conversation, “And how exactly did you plan to convey that message when they don’t even know we’re in a relationship?”

“Hey, Sebastian knows.” He argues.

“Seb hardly counts, he practically forced his way into figuring it out.”

Kimi shakes his head, his arms still around you. “And he walked into a room at the wrong time.”

His comment makes you laugh, a soft smile on your face as you turn to face him. “I love you, you know that?”

“Mhm. Love you too. Even if I don’t say it much.”

Your grin grows even larger, leaning up to kiss him. “You don’t have to say, I know.” He kissed you back, and he could feel your smile as he did. He thinks it’s crazy that he’s hidden such a blessing from the world. How you ever loved someone like him, he didn’t know, but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

Pulling away, he gives you a smile that only you get to see. The softest in the world, looking at you as if you were the world. He breaks eye contact to hold your hand, headed towards the chinese restaurant down the road. “Okay, now dumplings.”

[cinnanmonn]

🥛 𝑀𝐼𝐿𝐾. 🥛

𝑌𝑎𝑛! 𝐹𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑒𝑟 𝑥 𝐺𝑁 𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑣 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

TW: Lactation, suggestive content, groping

Wow. For this summer, instead of spending time with your friends or having fun, your parents forced you to help at your grandparents barn.

You had already planned to make this summer the most memorable and enjoyable moments of your life, only to be shattered by your parents threatening to cut off your allowance if you don't help out.

Well you weren't even sure you could make this summer that good because of your budget. You tried to save up for this moment!

Well maybe next summer.

Your allowance was a big part in helping you pay your rent, because you literally cannot support yourself with small part-time jobs.

But they even promised a paycheck, so you had no choice, really.

➹➹➹

You knock on their door, after a few moments your grandma opens the door, greeting you sweetly.

"Oh dear, come in! I'm so glad you were able to come. Haha, we've been understaffed here so you helping is so thoughtful! " she says, as she leads you to the living room.

"It's alright, ma. I'm glad I could at least help. " even though you were lowkey doing this because your mother was paying you.

"Hahaha! Your old man is alseep right now. He's pretty tired, today."

She gestures you to put your things on the couch, you do as told as you sit down. The couch was comfy, despite being worn out it's still in good condition.

The room was colorful, filled with pictures and other vintage things. Mostly broken.

You wait as your grandma gestures you to come into a room.

"Here! The room your mom used to have. Unpack all your things and take a rest, baby. "

"Alright." You smile at her as she closes the door. You quickly open up your stuff and unpack all your things.

You shove your clothes in the old wardrobe and place your other stuff on the stand near the bed.

Wow, the room looked so old. You sigh as you lay on the bed, taking off your shoes.

Your gonna be here for a good 3 weeks. Hahh, you really wished there was something interesting to do, didn't you?

Sadly, there's no internet or signal here, so it's gonna limit your entertainment. Plus, you don't really know people here, since the ones you used to know nearby moved out.

You decided to take a little nap before anything, after all the travel was pretty tiring.

➹➹➹

You woke up in cold sweat, you hear knocks on your door as you sloppily get up and open the door.

Woah.

There stood a tall man, no matter your height he looks real tall. There stands a moreno with a buff looking body and.... The most plump chest you've ever layed your eyes on.

"Um.... Your grandma told me to grab go grab you for dinner. " he shifts uncomfortably at your weird gaze. Maybe you weren't tall enough because you didn't even held eye contact with him.

You were looking at his chest with a tight shirt, wow I hope the buttons would rip off.

You give yourself a little pinch to get back on your senses.

"Oh yeah... You are? " you say, awkwardly as you look away from him.

"Um... I'm Isagani. "

"Oh ahahha, I see. Alright can you please move?"

He flinches as he walks farther away from you, so you could walk towards the dinning room.

He walks in front of you, giving you a mouth-watering view of his ass.

DAMN.

I bet it's jiggly. (💀)

As the both of you reach the dining room, your granddad approaches Isagani and puts his hand on his shoulder.

"Isagani, this is my lil' grandkid. Take care of 'em alright? "

"Oh! Yeah of course, pa. " he awkwardly smiles. You grin in embarrassment. Wow this feels so awkard. Your grandma walks into the room, with a tray of your favorite food.

Your eyes light up, you quickly sit down and get ready to eat. Isagani sits next to your granddad while your grandma sits next to you.

"Dig in, of course I had to make your favorite for today! " your grandma says, smiling proudly.

"Thanks a lot, ma. I'm sure I'll enjoy it here. You smile as you ate.

➹➹➹

As soon as you finished your meal, you went to the bathroom and took a warm bath. It felt so calming, maybe your stay wouldn't be so bad.

Especially with such fine looking specimen being here. You laugh to yourself at the thought. You were already enjoying this.

You hop off the bath and walk towards your room. You remove the towel as you start wearing your undergarments.

When suddenly, the door opens.

"Did you get your-" you quickly look at him. Isagani is wide eyed at the sight he saw. Before you could speak, he quickly closes the door and speaks up. "I'm so sorry! I didn't know!! " he says sounding nervous as you could hear him run off.

You couldn't even get a singular word in. But to be perfectly honest, you don't really give a fuck if they were hot enough.

I'm definitely gonna tease him with this.

Those were your thoughts as you fell asleep.

By the next morning as SOON as you ate your breakfast, you were ordered to milk some cows, with the help of Isagani.

He wouldn't even look at you, while he talked.

"So first of all... "

"Hey."

"Yeah? "

You pull his chin to make him face you, making his face go red. "U-um... Uh... "

"You act like that as if you haven't seen me nude." His eyes widen at your words, he could feel himself get more flustered with how you said it.

"It's not like that! I swear! I'm not interested in high-schoolers, I'm like 27! "

.....

"I'm not a high-schooler. I'm 25." He looks at you, surprised. "Really.... You look like, 20."

"20 year olds aren't high Schoolers. They're also in collage. "

"They are? "

"Yeah never mind. " this conversation was going nowhere. Wahh, you really can't focus when you look at that chest, he's even sweating, making his chest puff up and down at how hot it is.

You had a devious thought, as you suddenly pull him to you. "Hey... You wanna feel good real quick? "

"W-what..? " you smile at his Innocence. "Wanna make out? Well not here, somewhere hidden. "

He quickly gives distance to you as he waves his hands. "We can't! Grands are gonna find us! "

You sigh, "not unless we get caught, c'mon, it's my revenge after you saw me all vulnerable. "

He hesitated, but his eyes shows that he was tempted to. In the end, he ended up following you to the back of the barn. You push him against the wall.

He whines at the sudden impact, as he pathetically looks up at you. "Your so cute.. " Your words make him go red, as he touches his face and think deeply about your comment, you give him a sudden kiss, you make him look up to face you by grabbing on his hair.

You grope his chest, making him squirm. You pull away as you quickly pull off his shirt. "H-hahhh..." He gasps for air at how rough your treating him.

Meanwhile, you were absolutely dazed. His tits are such a cute color of pink, you immediately go ahead and squeeze it, while your mouth bites on his bud.

"He screams out a moan, trying to keep himself quite by covering his mouth with his hand.

"Shut the fuck up, slut. " you wince, as you continue to bite and grop his chest. You lick on it, earning a few moans from him.

You kept lapping until suddenly, you could feel a substance on your mouth. You pull away to see both his buds, leaking with white liquid.

Hot damn. He even lactates? How's that possible and that's so fucking hot.

"I wanna eat you out. "

You say before suckling on his sweet tasty bud. "Ahh..! F-feels weird... Nghh.... " he attempts to quite down his moans, as he could feel his pants get tighter.

You rub on his clothed shaft, earning moans from him. You twist his little buds, milk coming out of it endlessly. You lick it up as you continue lapping his tits.

"I feel.... Ahh!! Something..gonna come.. A-ahh.. ". Is he gonna come? That so cute. With his tits? You couldn't help but go faster and faster as his moans get more frequent.

"S-something.... Ahhh... Ngh....!! " You watch as he cries out, a wet spot visibly on his crotch.

"Wow, you came with your tits like a whore. ". You grin at him. As you give him a little kiss on the cheek.

He whines as he wipes his tears. "What.... Now? " let's get you cleaned up alright? We don't wanna get caught. Le's go. " I help him up as I sneakily lead him to the river so he could wash up a bit at least.

♡-------------------------------------------------- ♡

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 (ू˃̣̣̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣̣̣ ू) 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚍𝚔, 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚕

𝙱𝚝𝚠 𝚝𝚢𝚜𝚖 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚕𝚢 (^з^)-☆𝚌𝚑𝚞!! 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝙸'𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚖 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚢𝚝𝚢 ♡♡♡

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐏𝐭.𝟑 | 𝐊.𝐇𝐉 ♡

【Synopsis】 : Hongjoong offers to drive you home, not realising it was a one was ticket to having his way with you.

『Word count』 : 1.82k

-> Genre: Smut. Fluff. DBF.  

Pairing: Dilf!Hongjoong x Park!Reader  

[Warnings] : Flirting. Making out. Car sex-ish. Thigh fucking. Clit play. Dirty talk. Pet names.

Note: I'm on a roll with this Dilf story. And I know I'm leaving you all hanging again. What can i say? i love to tease you guys. Hehe ♡♡ Also Special tags for @mingis-prince @itza-meee for liking this mini story thingy so much, hehe.

Masterlist | Navigation | Part Two | Part Four | Buy Me A Ko-Fi

The last few days of your trip were nothing but painful. You had woken up the morning of the lust-filled night, to Hongjoong already up and in the kitchen, among the other of your father's friends and some of their kids.

He didn't even look at you, pretending to go on with life like nothing had happened. But once you were inside your room, grabbing your swimmers to join Jongho and his two daughters in a game of pool volleyball, you were cornered by two firm hands gripping your bare waist and whispering, "You shouldn't get dressed so freely when anyone could walk in on you."

And by anyone he meant himself. He wouldn't let you leave that room until he was satisfied enough. Tasting your lips for around twenty minutes. But he never touched you where you needed. It was torturous. Your car was finally packed and ready. Everyone was staying around the front door of the cabin, saying their goodbyes. Your father looked sad but relieved, most likely happy he gets some peace now but sad all his friends were leaving.

"Yeah, but you should join us. Minnie's performance will be around lunchtime in the day, so you can hang around in the morning." Wooyoung was rambling on about his daughter's performance you heard about from her. She was a singer, and she had auditioned to join this label thingy. You didn't pay much attention to the conversation

"I'll show you the new bike," San interjected with a click of his tongue. His husband just rolled his eyes, mumbling something about how San doesn't shut up about that thing. Hongjoong was standing there also. Arms crossed in a tight black compression shirt. His tactical jet black pants and army boots made him look like walking sin. How does he look so hot just by standing?

“we should have a ride one night when you’re free from the kids.” Hongjoong laughed.

“Hey, that’s a great idea. But I’m never free from my kids.” San chuckled, making the rest of them laugh, having known exactly what he meant.

“I’m glad I’m over that stage of parenting.” Your father’s attention was now on you, but you hadn’t caught it. Now that you mention it, you had lost all focus on the conversation the minute Hongjoong spoke about his bike. Just the thought about him in full leather gear, on his slick motorbike. Would he let you go for a ride with him? You’ve never been on one, but you’ve heard they can be iniamite ‘cause as a passenger you’d be flushed against his back, arms tightly around his waist. Holding onto him like a lifeline. God you could feel your face heat up just at the thought. “Peach!”

“Huh?” You snapped out of your thoughts, noticing all your father's friends were looking at you. Including Hongjoong. His smirk told you he knew what you were thinking, but the others were more showing confusion or slight worry at your spaceiness. “I… uh. I’m gonna go. Sorry for spacing I’m just tired.”

You said quickly before even trying to understand what your father might want. He just rolled his eyes, giving you a tight hug. “Are you sure you’re gonna be able to drive, bub? If you're zoning out like that, maybe you should stay longer, a nap?” Your dad started to parent you, listing off things like ‘just stay one more night even, go home tomorrow’. but you needed to go home now…. you couldn’t spend another day without some type of relief.

“I’m okay Dad... I’ll just—I could drive her home.” Hongjoong’s voice lurked behind you. You swore you could feel his body heat against your ass. “I didn’t bring a car. I was planning on catching a cab. But If your girl doesn’t mind. I’ll just drive her car back inner city.”

You finally turned to look at the hunk of a man behind you, he was standing so causally, his hands in his pockets and his sunnies covering his gorgeous eyes. He looked completely relaxed as if him asking was doing you such a favour. Your father's smile was bright, giving his friend a pat on the shoulder, “Sounds perfect. But drive safely. You got precious cargo with you.” Your father laughed making the tatted male chuckle simply.

-

 The car ride was stone-cold quiet. Not even the radio playing lowly in the background could shatter the tension that had filled the car the moment Hongjoong started driving. There was still another half hour until you were home, and from the past hour of silence, you knew the time wasn’t about to change the conditions of the awkward car ride. Your heart was racing, and all you wanted to do was say a million different things to ease your brain but at the same time you just wanted Hongjoong to stop somewhere random on the side of the road so you could finally have him. God you were going to go crazy.

“I swear your thoughts are so loud.” Hongjoong chuckled making your head snap in his direction.

“M-My thoughts?”

“Yes, angel. Your thoughts. They are so loud.” He smirked not once diverting his eyes from the road. You squirmed a little bit, now having your attention completely on him and the way he was holding the wheel. Those strong hands, that you wanted more than anything to be on you.

“You have no clue what I’m thinking about.” You crossed your arms turning to look out your window but in truth, it was so you could hide the blush forming on your face.

“Oh, sure I do darling.” his words only caused a ‘uh huh’ out of you along with another huff. It went silent for a moment, making you think you might have said something wrong. But then as soon as you heard Hongjoong’s voice again, it was like all the air was punched out of your lungs. “My cock.”

A whimper escapes your wobbly lips as you feel all your self-control fly out the car window. You turned to him, seeing he was looking straight at you. It was only then you noticed you had come to a red light, giving him a moment to bask in your beautiful figure. The way your body curves and dips, your shorts hugging your thighs tightly. His Adams apple bobs while he bit his lips, he wanted nothing more than to fuck your thighs right now. “Hongjoong…” Your soft whisper slowly pulled him out of the trance he slipped into, letting his hazy eyes meet your cheeky expression and cocked brow. “The light is green.”

A loud honk from behind made him jump, snapping his view to the bright green traffic light in front of him. He pressed his foot on the gas at such power, making the car jolt. You gripped onto your seat belt questioning what on earth had gotten to him but as he turned a few more streets, down a weird pebbled road, you finally took in a large black roller door connected to a huge sky tower. You glanced at the older man with confusion, noting that this wasn’t your place. But his tight grip on the wheel made you shut up before you even let another word out. He leant out the window after coming to a stop. Punching some numbers on a keypad stand, the roller doors slowly opened, letting him drive into the dim parking lot. “Where are we?”

Hongjoong just merely grunted, searching for the nearest empty parking spot amongst rows and rows of high-end, lavish vehicles. Your small little car at nothing on the price of them… He finally pulled into a space, coming to a sharp stop. He unbuckled himself without a second breath, leaning down to grab the lever at the base of his seat so he could push it back. Raking his fingers through his hair he growls with a panted breath, “If you don’t get on my lap right now I might just lose it.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, ripping off your buckle, you climbed over the middle console very unattractively, but you didn’t care. Your lips were on his in a rushed huff, his hands cupping your face tightly. He bit your bottom lip so hard you feared for a moment he’d draw blood. Your legs sat on either side of his thighs, the buckle clip digging into your flesh but you couldn’t care less. Your hips were unsteady and your pace was nothing short of desperate. You needed him so badly. “Hongjoong p-please.”

Again with the begging. You were so good for him in every moment. How did he get so lucky? Your hands reached for his belt, undoing it enough to unzip and shimmy his pants down slightly. His cock was already straining against his boxers, precum leaking onto the silk fabric. Your soft hands pulled him out without another moment not letting him have any say. His mind was screaming at him ‘What happened to doing this by the book, doing right by her.’ He wasn’t about to let your first time be in a fucking small ass car.

“Let me fuck your thighs angel. I promise I’ll fuck my cock in your tight cunt when I have you naked on my bed.” His words caught you off guard making you yelp out a whinny ‘okay’. turning around your head rested on his shoulder as he closed your thighs tightly, letting his cock slip snuggly in between them. God, it felt like heaven. Your soft plump flesh around his cock. He wanted to bust his nut then and there. His thrusts were small and sharp. He was gonna cum sooner than he planned, but he needed you to come with him. “Fuck, play with yourself, baby. Rub your clit for me.”

Your hand disappeared into your shorts, slipping into your panties. Letting you press two fingers firmly on your bud. You rubbed in time of his thrusts, falling into a rhythm of pleasure. You weren't far behind him when his grunts and groans tickled your neck and his tongue licked along your hot flesh. His hands gripped the outer parts of your thighs, holding them tightly together as his hips began to stutter. You both were so close, so close to the edge, you just needed something to tip over and then he whimpered so desperately in your ear. “Please, angel. Your thighs are s-so good. I’m going to cum so fucking hard.”

That did it for both of you, cumming in your pants while he squirted all over your plump thighs. Everything was a mess. Your hair, your legs. Him, completely. All you could hear was his heart racing as you cuddled up to his chest for a moment. He held, you close, kissing lazily on your neck, jaw and shell of your ear, whispering soft compliments along the lines of ‘well done, such a good girl. My best girl’

All you could think about in that moment is that you never want this to end.

—♡

[terapsina]

The Wheel of Time character types:

The Dumb Puppy - aka - Serial Imprinter - aka - Won't Get A Single Break From Now Until the Final Heat Death of the Universe... Or After.

Tiny and Angry - aka - The Sleeping Berserk Button - aka - The One They're Not Gonna See Coming Until She Rips Out All Their Throats.

'If my middle name wasn't Spite it would be Fuck You' - aka - The Duck Mother to the Very Dumb Baby Ducks - aka - Will Spend at Least an Episode a Season Inside a Tragic Romance B-Plot - aka - Had The Braincell, Temper Made Her Lose It (she contains multitudes).

The Violent Sunshine Character - aka - Would Sucker Punch a God for a Homie She Met Two Hours Ago.

If Evil, Why Hot?

The word 'Nap' isn't in her vocabulary but it should be - aka - Can't Have 'One Nice Thing' for More Than Two and a Half Minutes - aka - Allergic to Feelings.

'There's a big sign that says Don't Touch The Red Button... I'm gonna touch the Red Button.' - aka - Who is This... Self Esteem You Speak Of? Never Heard of Them.

Voted Most Likely to be Adopted by a Hundred Random Strangers - aka - The Wolves Would Like Him to Get the Braincell but it Fell on the Ground and the Ground is Lava.

Doesn't Get Paid Enough for this Shit - aka - Clinging to the Last Braincell With the Tips of His Fingernails - aka - 'I can't believe I of all people am willing to have a single goddamn conversation here.'

'Fine I'll Do the Babysitting But You Owe Me So Much Booze' - aka - The Aunt That Once Forgot You In the Mall - aka - The Aunt That Gave You All the Safe Sex Tips and Traumatized You For Life - aka - The Aunt That Would Absolutely Bury a Body No Questions Asked.

[tiajk]

Being their sibling headcannons (Monster trio)

Characters included; Luffy, Zoro, & Sanji

Warnings; sibling love, fluff gn! reader

A/n; My sister just left to go back to college miss her already

masterlist

MONKEY D. LUFFY

Sibling realtionship; Twins

— He honestly needs a sibling to be there for him he has the crew yes but you being there is just different like his missing piece (not romantic)

— He will steal your food but if you try to steal his he’ll throw a big fit talking about how you have so much food already

— Garp was sick of both of you growing up you both relented going into the marines so he couldn’t stand it

— He gives his hat to you all the time you guys sorta share it but he has it most of the time

— The crew get tired of both of you sometimes sanji has to feed two overly eating people and he never catches a break

— he would protect you without a doubt

— you guys 100% have the same brain cell you hold it most of the time luffy rents it sometimes

— your his favorite out of all you guys siblings and ace and sabo know that

— he tries to steal your food and it turns into a whole rumble for some meat (nothing less of luffy)

— when he has nightmares he will go to ur room and ask you to hold him because he just wants his twin to be by him

— he doesn’t say i love you ask much as you think but he does say it in his sleep sometimes when you guys are around each other

— doesn’t care if you flirt with guys or girls or any person but will be mad if they take you away from him when he wants to spend sibling time together

​Ronoroa Zoro

Sibling dynamic; Big sibling little brother

— You would have to watch him all the time growing up because he would always go picking fight nd shit

— he doesn’t want to admit it but he wants you to tell him how proud you are of him and his strength

— def the little brother to hate when you give him affection but he loves it but will never admit it out loud

— doesn’t care what your doing but when it’s nap time he will leave his swords with you and get mad but get mad when he’s sleeping and you take the swords and put them to the side

— he doesn’t say i love you only says it when your seriously about to die (don’t tease him abt it he was actually worried)

— if you wear something that’s too revealing in his eyes he will 100% go “i’m telling mom that your wearing that” (bro what mom robin?) (it is robin)

— he’s always asking you for money like it’s worst that nami

— he’ll point his finger in your face and be like “i’m not touching you your face it touching me”

— doesn’t like when ur dating someone he’ll stalk you for sure if ur dating sanji he gets pissy but as long as your happy he’s happy

— he’ll protect you in battle if you need it and other way around but makes fun of you if you need his help in a unserious fight ofc

— do not show this man your outfits if you want his opinion he will just be like it looks the same

— he forces you to workout with him whether you want to or not

(he’s so fine me and u could eat him)

Vinsmoke Sanji

relationship dynamic: big brother little sibling

(i know his backstory but i haven’t got that far so we’re js gonna act like it’s you two for rn)

— when you guys were on the rock with zeff he gave you majority of the food

— makes you his personal taste tester for anything gives you stuff before the ladies

— he doesn’t like when people try to date you because he just wants you to be treated right if you date zoro he’ll be mad but he knows zoro will do anything to protect you

— he likes when you guys cook together it’s a personal connection for both of you

— type of brother to say he’s gonna kill a bug but makes you kill it

— he gives you his money but the second you mention it he won’t give you anymore (he does)

— he loves hugging you that’s all he does he just wants you to know how much he loves you

— says i love you almost everyday he wants to make sure you know your self worth

— if y’all got them same curly brows and you wear urs with pride your gonna make him do the same

— zeff makes sanji promises he’ll take care of you

— try’s to stop smoking for you but always go back to his ways you make jokes all the time about it

— if you wanna sneak out he’ll cover you but then make you do something in return for it